“Text me the details and I’ll consider it.” I drop my gaze to the disaster that’s compiled on my desk. This is precisely why people aren’t allowed in my office.
Jordan nods while backing toward the exit. “I’ll see you tonight.”
I dismiss his persistence with a flick of my wrist. His laughter echoes down the hallway as he retreats. Fucking finally. With another expletive, I gather my discarded reports and prepare to dissect the account distributions for Global Winters from this past quarter. My money is spread in thousands of directions, which makes tracking the progress and gains a full-time job on its own. There are nearly a dozen people assigned to this task, but managing my funds is a responsibility I can’t fully relinquish. It’s one of the only obsessions I allow myself.
Jordan has been out of my sight for less than five minutes when the telltale clicking from high heels assaults my ears. How women manage to walk in those stilts is a skill I’ll never comprehend. I’d lost track of time thanks to Jordan and his insistence on distracting me. A glance at the clock shows she’s arrived promptly on schedule for our appointment, even favoring the early side. If only that trait didn’t have the means to turn me on. There’s something very sexy about being punctual. I’ll have to be more diligent about reining in my baser needs, such as recalling her less than appealing attributes.
Speaking of headaches not worth the pain, Vannah Simons struts into my domain as if the space is hers to dominate. This silly minx is wandering into the wrong wolf den. It wouldn’t be a chore to meet her halfway and make good use of the bare walls. Instead of feeding my impulses, I slip into comfortable indifference as she slinks deeper into the room.
That doesn’t make her any easier to ignore.
This woman is an exclamation in a sea of useless periods and commas. Vannah’s personality is loud and brash without uttering a sound. Vibrant red waves flow over her straight shoulders, swishing with each precisely measured foot she eliminates between us. Her sharp chin is tilted high with pride. She’s painted her face with makeup, but just a thin layer to accentuate an already stunning canvas. The bright ruby lipstick is another story, though. Confidence oozes from her sure stride with each swinging step.
As I watch her approach, she’s busy stabbing me with a lethal glare. Animosity wafts from her in putrid waves. I almost plug my nose against the offensive stench. A lesser man might cower under her brazen intensity. All she earns from me is an icy mask—frozen from years of experience.
The open hostility melts from Vannah’s features, replaced with what I’m beginning to assume is her signature smile. “Good morning, Mr. Winters.”
My expression remains stony. “Pleasantries are wasted effort.”
She snorts and drops into a seat without invitation. “I wasn’t planning to give you more than the bare minimum.”
“Glad that’s settled.” I give her a slow once-over. Having her on my turf grants me control of all elements besides her unpredictable mouth. This will be entertaining.
And some people think I don’t know how to have fun.
“I love what you’ve done with the place.” Vannah makes a show of taking a long look around at the bare floors and empty rooms visible through the window.
“If only your opinion meant something.”
Her phony grin never falters. “It’s cute that your immediate reaction is to insult me. I’m thinking that’s because you feel guilty for being an asshole, but will never voice it. Might as well sling more dirt onto the pile, huh?”
That snarky wit makes me pause. I treated her poorly yesterday, whether she provoked me or not is irrelevant. Demeaning women with lewd stereotypes is the lowest level of dishonor. It’s despicable behavior that I’m ashamed of. I have every intention of owning my faults and apologizing. Just as regrets form on my tongue, she crosses her toned legs and leans forward. The shift in position provides me with a direct view of her ample cleavage. There’s no mistaking the intentional move.
“What’re you doing?” Jordan already tested my nonexistent patience. Vannah isn’t getting any slack from me for pulling this shit. Admitting I’m wrong, especially to others, is an extremely rare occurrence. One to be treasured and not wasted.
She pops her mouth open, feigning shock worse than a soap opera actress. “Is this too scandalous for you?”
“Careful, Ms. Simons. You’re dangerously close to proving me right.” This wouldn’t be the first occasion where a stealthy female attempted to trap me in a crime worthy of a lawsuit.
Her lips curve into a demure grin. “But this is what you expect of me, yes? I’m only capable of success by spreading my legs.”
A snarl curdles at the back of my throat. Hearing my crude assessment regurgitated by this maneater erases any inkling of remorse. I’d planned to make amends, to some degree, but being served a taste of my own medicine isn’t a lesson I appreciate. The bland mask I’ve trademarked slips to reveal a sneer. “Are you offering?”
She arches a slim brow. “That depends.”
I curl my hand into a fist, squeezing to alleviate the brewing pressure. “Playing coy doesn’t suit you.”
She rolls her eyes and tucks the draping fabric at her neckline, gaining some semblance of modesty. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“And this little lamb act won’t grant you any favors. I’m all lion, baby.”
Vannah straightens with a huff. “Your flattery could use some vast improvements.”
“It wasn’t meant as a compliment.”
She holds up a palm. “Don’t worry, Mufasa. I’m not under the impression that you’ll ever pay me praise on purpose.”
“It pleases me to hear that you’re finally coming to terms with our roles in this deal.” Prior to concluding our initial meeting, we managed to reach an agreement. Or so I thought.
Vannah narrows her emerald eyes, fierce and ferocious. “Let’s not pretend I’m willing to surrender. Our stakes are nowhere near equal. Also, it’s hilarious how you think I can be tamed.”
“Just give it time, sugar. I’ll prove a lot more than that.”
“Stop calling me that. I hate it.”
“You shouldn’t have told me.” I can practically feel the gleam reflecting from my gaze.
“Dammit,” she spits. “You can drop the asshole act.”
I snort. “That would require me to be pleasant during certain circumstances, which I can confirm isn’t the case. I’m not sure what gave you the impression that today would be any different. What do I have to gain from being polite?”
She taps her glossy lips. “Common courtesy?”
Another grunt escapes me. “Overrated. I’m somewhat of an acquired taste.”
“No shit? I wouldn’t have guessed that the flavor of rich prick doesn’t appease everyone’s palate.”
That almost gets a chuckle from me. Instead, I smooth a thumb down my red tie. The color might not be due to random selection, after all. “So crass, Ms. Simons.”
“Thought I was sweet?”
“Delectable indeed, sugar.” I lick my lips for emphasis.
She squints, taking inventory of the blank expression on my face. Not sure what she’s expecting to find. “Maybe you’re not a total lost cause. I could probably tolerate you after three glasses of wine, especially if earplugs are provided.”