by Harloe Rae
I snort at her distorted image from our video chat. “Nope, but my options are limited when he insists on being an asshole.”
“Report him to Vince,” she insists.
That possibility is tempting, of course. My boss would be outraged on my behalf if I told him the extent of Landon’s behavior. But I’m not an innocent bystander. The disappointment Vince would carry for losing this account would follow me like a toxic shadow. “That would kill this deal completely, and I’m not prepared to be responsible for that. I’m capable of standing up for myself.”
Her features carry enough tension to make my temples throb. “I don’t care what you say. Provoking Landon Winters seems like a horrible idea.”
A pesky ache spreads through my chest. There’s no backing down. “Oh, ye of little faith. I’m well aware of when to quit. He’s predictable. This will be a war of willpower. I’ve been managing egotistical men my entire life. Are you forgetting about how my father and brother provide practice on the regular?”
She hums in agreement. “How’s your dad doing?”
I smile despite the hints of animosity that arise whenever he’s the topic. “Oh, fine. Spending his semi-retirement on the golf course.”
“I’m sure that’s helping him move past your so-called traitor status.”
That yanks another eye roll out of me. My dad opened a rather successful law firm decades ago in hopes that his children would take it over when the time came. I couldn’t have been less interested in that career. He’s still holding a grudge. Brother Dearest swooped in as the golden child, though. As if Trevor needs more reason for his head to swell.
“If my father finds out I’m representing Landon Winters, he might be proud of me.” I inspect my flawless manicure, getting a small boost from that possibility.
“Well, that’s another mark in the win column.” Yet she still doesn’t sound convinced.
Cue another disgruntled sound from me. “Ah, yes. My dad’s approval means so much to me these days.”
“You know what I mean,” she grumbles.
“I do, and thank you for being encouraging in an extremely delayed way.”
Clea shrugs. “You’ll do you, whether I approve or not.”
I tap the screen, mimicking a boop on her nose. “You love me for it, and you’re absolutely right. Landon is never going to see me coming. He’s going to curse the day he decided to mess with me.”
She giggles. “There’s nothing covert about that dress.”
I tug at the tight material. “This is simply quality packaging to fit his shallow insinuation. He assumes I’m nothing but a bimbo using my body to get ahead. Might as well feed the rumors if it causes a distraction.”
Her grin is just the slice of sweet I need. “Even though most of my words suggest otherwise, I admire your tenacity. Most would crack under the intensity that is Landon Winters. You’re brave, Vannah.”
“To a fault.”
“Nah, you get shit done.”
“I do, right?”
“Always,” she agrees.
A glance at the clock has me searching for my heels. I don’t want to imagine the consequences of arriving late. “Thanks, love. We’ll see if my jumbo lady balls pay off.”
“Just be careful.”
I give her a wave. “The reward is worthless without the willingness to risk it all. We’ll be celebrating my success shortly.”
“Just picture how Landon will handle losing.” Clea pauses for a moment. “Although, I’m not exactly sure what he has to lose.”
I button my lips and toss away the key. “Lucky for us, we don’t have to worry about that.”
Blinding streaks from the rising sun cascade across my desk, illuminating the typically dull earnings report I’m analyzing. Pressure builds at my temples as one number merges into the next. It’s too damn quiet, affording my thoughts the freedom to wander onto unsavory topics.
Silence is a fickle beast that’s rarely satisfied. Most often I crave the solitude, cursing anything that dares to interrupt my artificial serenity. But sometimes, that gives voice to authorities no longer in command. Regardless of my efforts, old habits rise from the vast stillness shrouding me.
Even as I sit in this soundless lull, the monster paces just below the surface. Flickers from my past, where I was forced into similar shackles, ram against my skull. I shift in my seat while trying to escape those ancient bonds. My father is probably pinching his lips in barely contained fury as these memories assault me. Another wave of utter stillness descends, and the comparison isn’t lost on me. His demands could never be met either.
For a brief escape from the resentment, I force my mind to stop tripping over capital gains and profit margins. I glance out the window and capture an anchor to normalcy. The commercial space I rented offers a decent scope of downtown St. Paul. Bustling traffic and crowded sidewalks greet me, even from thirty stories above the ground. That controlled chaos is a familiar trait many would eagerly accept to remain tethered.
The sharp clarity and architectural angles blur, my vision getting fuzzy around the edges. Getting lost in the motions is entirely too easy and I drift without effort. I’ll need more coffee if I expect to conquer all while running on three hours of sleep. I latch onto a suitable comfort to meet my needs—snapping the fuck out of this stupor.
Similar to the scene in Chicago, I have an unobstructed view of a river. The Mississippi doesn’t call to me quite the same, but there’s still a soothing sensation to be found in that tranquil sight. I grant myself another minute to digest the cityscape before reality catches me.
The steady slap of footsteps shatters my momentary contentment. My muscles bunch without conscious effort at the approaching intrusion. Only three people are aware of my location. I secured an entire level for privacy. Nothing drives me to the brink of madness faster than overhearing others engage in meaningless conversations. Untimely guests come in a close second.
“Good morning, Winters.” Jordan’s baritone is too chipper for the early hour.
I rip my gaze from the flowing water to pin him with a glare. “Did I miss an appointment memo?”
“Nah, this is a spontaneous visit.”
“Just my luck.” My chair squeaks as I recline in an attempt to defuse the mounting strain.
“You don’t fuck around, huh?” He lets a low whistle loose as he clomps into my office and sits down in front of me.
I lift a brow. “Meaning?”
He motions to our otherwise empty surroundings. “You have an entire floor to yourself in one of the most expensive buildings in this state.”
“It’s cost-efficient and only temporary.” As if I need to explain myself. I barely noticed the price while signing on the dotted line. It seemed like a fair amount—and a fraction of what I’d pay in Chicago.
Jordan scratches his jaw. “Not sure if that makes it better or worse.”
“And I’m not sure why it matters. There was a vacancy that the owners were all too eager to fill.”
“Because no one can afford to pay the lease.”
I serve him a scowl. “All the more reason for me to take advantage. Are you suggesting I should’ve set up shop in a dark corner somewhere?”
He shakes a finger at me. “Ah, there’s the big boss who doesn’t accept any flack.”
“You sound surprised, regardless of my name hanging on the door.” I gesture to the complimentary sign that was included in my purchase. Staking my claim is unnecessary, but I appreciate the gesture.
Jordan chuckles. “Damn, who sharted in your Wheaties?”
“I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question.”
His laughter booms louder. “How did I become the bad guy?”
“We could start with the reason behind this spontaneous visit.” I toss his words back at him with a sneer.
“All is on track with Sunny Skies?”
“Yes.” The reassurance is automatic. “Thanks again for the tip.”
He nods, his gr
in managing to stretch further. “No problem, man. I’m glad to be of assistance.”
I wait a beat, giving him the courtesy to state his actual purpose. “Is that all?”
His mirth dims with a sigh. “Just checking on you, locked away in this ivory tower. I worry about your sanity, man.”
“That’s entirely unnecessary. This is business as usual.” I’d almost think he’s joking if his presence could be ignored.
“While that might be true, it doesn’t stop me from caring.”
My glower reaches record-breaking status. “You’ll still get a percentage if I go belly up.”
He shakes his head. “Now you’re insinuating I’m only interested in your money.”
“I won’t take it personally,” I reply.
“Well, that doesn’t make two of us.” He stares at me for a moment. Picturing the thoughts rattling in his brain is enough to haunt my already gruesome nightmares. “Do you have a woman, Winters?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Do I look like the type to engage in small talk? Who the hell is this dude? “Please enlighten me on when I would have time to entertain such frivolous affairs.”
“It doesn’t have to take long. I assume a man in your position isn’t too keen on commitment. Even so, separating your personal life from work requires a healthy balance.” His relentless ramblings grate on my simmering temper.
I press my lips into a firm line as the fever stirs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but having an authentic relationship that isn’t reliant on financial factors doesn’t exist in my world.”
“That’s a shame.”
“It really isn’t. Trust me when I say that remaining single is the less complicated alternative.”
“Aren’t your parents hounding you for grandchildren?”
The mere suggestion of them in any nurturing role is almost comical enough to make me smile. Almost. My father being six feet under ruins the humorous image. I let a snarl curl my upper lip. “Didn’t yours teach you to avoid personal topics that might cause discomfort?”
He scoffs. “Don’t bullshit me. Nothing ruffles your feathers.”
It appears that way on the surface, of course. The truth remains hidden under a custom suit and decades of suppressing emotions. I tug on my tie, the damn knot suddenly choking.
“It’s a necessary evil. Comes with the territory.” I said something similar to Vannah yesterday. That sentiment describes most of my existence.
He swats at the air as if it annoys him. “Fine, whatever. That doesn’t mean you can’t get laid.”
“I never claimed otherwise.”
His eyes gleam and I brace myself for another onslaught. “So, you do have a girl.”
“If I say yes, will you leave?”
“Not yet. Tell me about her.”
“There’s nothing to share.”
“Ah, clamming up on me? I get it—you’re not one to kiss and tell.”
I spread my arms out, scattering papers in all directions. “What gave you the impression I would?”
“We’re bonding, man. Talking about chicks is a gateway.”
“To what? We’re not frat brothers.” Calling him my acquaintance is being generous, but I’m strongly considering cutting him off after this stunt.
Jordan leans forward, resting an elbow on his thigh. “I get the hint I’m striking a nerve.”
“What was your first clue?”
He holds up his palms in an act of surrender I wouldn’t bet fifty cents on. “Okay, discussing ladies is off-limits. Noted.”
“Add every other subject to that list as well,” I mutter.
“You need to take a load off, man. I’ve been here for less than ten minutes and I can feel the stress closing in on me.”
“Feel free to show yourself out.” I motion toward the door.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“How’d I guess you’d say that?”
“Because we’re making a connection.” His reply is laced with far too much enthusiasm. If I hadn’t met his wife, I might assume he’s into men. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
“You’re not my girlfriend.” I spit the words with extra venom, hoping he’ll let this idiotic topic drop.
“Oh, I’m so glad you brought that up again. I figured we were moving on, but this is great. Who’s your significant other?” He wags his eyebrows.
“Perhaps you should check your hearing. I already told you dating isn’t on my radar.”
He nods in what I assume is meant to be understanding, but I highly doubt he actually empathizes. “You should make it a priority.”
“No, thanks. Headaches are less aggravating when there’s money to be made.” Why I’m entertaining his invasive questioning is beyond me. Maybe being isolated so often is eroding my defenses. I do need to get out more.
Jordan sits back and crosses his ankles, settling in for the long haul. Removing him by force is beginning to look like the only option. Where’s my worthless assistant when I actually need him? “Don’t you ever need to relax? Ease your bodily urges?”
I abandon the document in my fist, tossing the packet away with a grunt. “What are you trying to gain from this conversation? All you’re managing to do is put me in a piss-poor mood.”
He stills, scrutinizing my rigid posture. “Wait, you’re not always this grumpy?”
“You’re skating on thin ice, Hughes. State your business or get the hell out.”
“The lakes melted months ago, but nice try.”
“Is there a point to all this?” Repeating myself only serves to darken the red edging my vision.
Jordan shrugs. “Not really, to be honest. I’m just shooting the breeze.”
“And effectively wasting my time,” I add. “Isn’t there somewhere else you should be that’s more productive?”
He waves me off. “Yeah, I’m heading to a meeting in a minute. This is just a quick detour to chat with my friend.”
I glance from left to right, looking for this missing source. “You better hurry along then.”
His snort is louder than a bull. “Such a smart ass. I appreciate your humor, Winters.”
“I don’t share the same fondness for yours.”
He clucks his tongue. “If only I could believe you. I’d be long gone if you really wanted me to be.”
“Security is pretty thin at the moment.” I jut my chin at the empty space around us.
“There’s that snappy wit again. You’re a funny guy. How about you come have a drink with me after you’re done crushing skulls and stealing smiles?”
“I can’t imagine why I’d ever agree to such a thing.”
“Because you’re in this city alone and want some company.” The way his dry tone frames that statement makes it seem like he actually believes that.
“I’m capable of finding my own entertainment, should the need present itself.”
“You need a boost in the fun department.” At this moment, Jordan resembles a bloodhound chasing a fresh scent. He won’t be easily dissuaded, and I don’t have hours to waste trying. I’d kick his ass to the curb if I didn’t appreciate his decent leads on investment opportunities.
“I appreciate the invite”—I really don’t—“but I’ll pass.”
He’s quiet for a moment, allowing a false sense of victory to cloak me. Then his smile spreads and I flex my gut in preparation for more low blows. “You remind me of someone who had issues accepting happiness. He was a real surly asshole, hellbent on being angry.”
“Sounds like my kind of guy,” I remark.
“Great.” He claps and stands from his chair. “You can meet him tonight.”
I have to give the pushy bastard credit for setting a decent trap. “That’s highly unlikely.”
“I’d say the odds are strongly in my favor, unless you’re fond of my dropping by unannounced.” If I didn’t have prior knowledge of his profession, I’d be certain by this point that he’s a lawyer. The gu
y can probably get a cardboard box to fold on command.
“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.