Maybe she was. I’ll table that…for now. “So you’re not curious at all about what made me hate your brother?”
Corinne hesitates, her dark hair spilling over her bare shoulders. “It’s not why I’m here.”
But she looks intrigued. I’ll give her time, lure her in. She’ll want the truth. She won’t be able to help herself. “Okay. Tell me your business plans and what kind of funding you’re looking for.”
Her smile is immediate. She thinks she’s won. It’s cute. In fact, she’s adorably ballsy and seemingly naive at once. She’s definitely not as jaded as she wants me to believe.
“I need five million dollars to expand, preferably in the next sixty days.”
“For machinery?”
She shakes her head, and I can’t help but notice the way the last of the day’s rays make her face glow. How beautiful would she look with her head on my pillow, her shiny dark tresses spread across my white sheets, and her cheeks pink while I’m fucking her to orgasm?
“No. I hand-bead every piece. I always will. But I’ve outgrown my apartment, which I rent. I found a nearby house for sale that’s perfect. Three bedrooms and a bonus room. I’d use one for myself, and I can take the wall down between the other two to create one big workspace, like a craft and office area combined. The bonus room I can use for storage. I offer a lot of different styles, plus I do custom pieces. That means I keep a lot of raw materials on hand and they have to be organized.”
She’s clearly thought through things that would make her production easier so she can expand to fit the current slew of orders. Still, I can’t help but play devil’s advocate.
“What kind of partnership are you offering?”
“I’m looking strictly for a loan. I’ll pay you back in no more than three years—with interest.”
“Why me? You can get a loan anywhere. Can’t you?” Let’s see what she says to that.
Corinne nibbles on her lip. “Banks won’t lend me that kind of money. Turns out that a twenty-two-year-old woman with a ‘hobby’ that makes money but has no collateral isn’t considered a good risk in this economic climate.”
“Hmm…” She’s being honest about her loan status, at least. “What if hand-beaded smart watch bands aren’t the rage in a year? In a month? What will you do?”
“Smart watches aren’t going away anytime soon, and every female who hates the industrial drone look—which is a bunch—wants something more interesting. I keep up with trends and fads, so I’m always at the forefront of fashion. And I have more traditional designs for people who want that, plus I’ve expanded to include bands for men that are bolder and more substantial but still functional. And I’m in touch with the celeb who first recommended my product. She’s turned me on to other influencers, many of whom have said they’ll do a plug for me for nominal fees as a favor to her once I’ve geared up. I can’t get cheaper, more effective advertising.”
“Probably not, but I don’t give out loans, princess. I invest.”
“That’s twice you’ve called me that. Don’t.”
Is that silver spoon a touchy subject? “Take the endearment. It’s better than the other names for you rolling through my head.”
“I’m not even slightly surprised.” Corinne sounds annoyed as she raises her hand to get the waiter’s attention. “Since you seem determined to make every moment we’re together difficult, I’m going to need another drink.”
I smile. She’s playing right into my hands. “Go for it.”
She drains the last of her French 75, then smiles when the waiter rushes off to bring her another. “Back to your question… You don’t have to worry about trends or my business going south, remember? In three years, I’ll come into my inheritance, then I can pay you back. All cash.” She snaps her finger. “You’ll make a profit, and we’ll go our separate ways forever.”
Sure, but I have other ways of making a bigger return that don’t require me to tie up my liquid capital for three years. “You must have other rich friends. Since I’m both your brother’s enemy and an egotistical manwhore, why ask me?”
“Because I thought you’d want revenge enough to say yes.”
“Let’s be honest. That’s not the only reason. You need someone in your life who’s willing and able to stand up to your brother when he pulls his overbearing bullshit. Am I still the only person in pampered Parker’s life who’s never bent under his pressure?”
She flushes a pretty pink, so I’m taking that as a yes. “Despite your flaws, I don’t think you can be bought.”
Not by anybody. But especially him? “Fuck no.”
When the waiter sets her fresh drink down in front of Corinne, she grabs it like a lifeline, swallowing half in two gulps.
“When was the last time you ate?” I ask.
After more of those noises that make my cock press uncomfortably against my zipper, she sets her drink down and rakes her tongue across her lips. It’s an unconscious gesture, but one that makes me wish we could skip dinner and get naked. “Breakfast.”
Time to get her some food before her stomach rebels. I nod toward her menu. “Decide what you want to eat.”
“You’re bossy. This business arrangement isn’t going to work if you’re questioning me half the time and spending the other half telling me what to do.”
“I’m not your brother. I’m trying to keep you from passing out or throwing up.”
Corinne scowls. “I’m not drunk.”
She’s not…yet. “If you keep drinking like that on an empty stomach, you will be.”
Her scowl deepens. “You might not be my brother, but you’re a lot like him—always thinking you know better. No wonder you were good friends before you became enemies.”
“Let’s get one thing straight: I am nothing like your brother. If we go into business, I will never stab you in the back…unless you stab me first.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Why are you here if you don’t?” I shrug. “This place grills some amazing fish, but if you’d rather just drink your meal, fine. I won’t stop you.”
Corinne studies her half-empty glass, then sends me a tart stare. “All right. I’ll order.”
“Good call, princess.”
Her dark eyes narrow on me. “I told you not to call me that.”
“I heard you the first time.”
“But you don’t care. Perfect.”
“I said I wasn’t overbearing like Parker. I didn’t say I’d be easy to deal with. But…since you can’t get the loan you need anywhere else and all of your friends are too afraid of your brother to stand up to him, it looks like you’re stuck with me, princess.”
She presses her lips together in a mute white line as the waiter approaches and takes our order. He promises to have the food out quickly. I ask for a bread basket to help soak up some of the alcohol in Corinne’s stomach. Thankfully, he hustles back with it, then I butter a piece of steaming sourdough and set it on her plate. “Eat.”