by Harloe Rae
“So, neither of us is willing to surrender.” His slight detour in topic raises my hackles. He could derail our discussion for hours with a few misplaced words.
I roll my neck, a few joints popping with the stretch. “I guess that leaves us to finally getting down to business.”
“It’s about damn time you’ve warmed up to my idea.” He reclines in his chair with a moan any porn star would envy.
“Oh, please, stop.” A retching sound yanks from my throat.
“Why should I? You’re quite gorgeous, Savannah.”
“Quit flirting with me.” My tone borders on begging.
“Why?” A curious sparkle twinkles in his gaze as he repeats the question.
“It’s… weird.”
“Only because you like me hitting on you.”
I make another show of choking on bile. “You’ll never get me to admit such a despicable thing.”
“A new challenge? I accept.”
Why does it feel like I just signed my own resignation notice? Veering this conversation onto professional ground is my only chance to salvage his account. “Ditto, which is precisely what your demands are to me. Did you get my emails with the listings?”
Landon scowls. “Yes, but that can wait.”
“It should take precedence. I’m prepared to accomplish actual progress on finding you a property. That’s why I’m here, remember?”
“Terms and conditions change by the minute.”
I wag my finger, reverting to scolding him like a child. “Not in this case. What is it you do for a living exactly?”
“Taking an interest in me?” Chocolate-colored smoke ignites in his eyes. I wonder if he’d melt in my mouth.
Ripping my gaze off him takes more willpower than I’m willing to admit. “Consider it research of my own.”
“I buy businesses and make them bigger.”
“A global tycoon?” I’m not super positive about what that title entails, but it sounds cool.
Landon’s chest vibrates with amusement. It might be my imagination based on his stoic expression, though. “Sure, let’s call it that.”
“Are you a monopoly type of man?”
“Nah, that game has too many rules. I just take what I want.”
“How appealing.” And not at all surprising.
“You’re somewhat extraordinary too.” He’s giving me whiplash with his creative liberties.
I slap on a wide grin and cheese at him. “There you go giving me backhanded compliments again. Be careful, or I might think you’re trying to romance me.”
“There’s no threat of that happening. You should know better by now. If you don’t, the lesson will be easy enough to teach.”
The urge to flip him the bird twitches my middle finger. He’s the worst. Period. There’s no need to proceed with caution. Anyone with functioning vision and eardrums can attest to him being terrible. But I’m committed to the cause, dammit. Even so, he’s proving to be more foul than I originally gave him credit for.
Landon Winters represents everything that makes women run in the opposite direction. He’s the kind of wicked my mother steered me from, but I never believed such a man could exist. Yet there’s a piece that doesn’t quite fit. I’d risk losing this account on the odds that there are secrets lurking beneath his steely armor. The anger and hostility are a front to hide vulnerability underneath—I’m sure of it. He pushes people away with such practiced loathing that it must be a defense.
Suddenly, a new plan forms in my mind. I want to know what makes this man tick. I don’t believe he’s inherently rotten. Not down to the marrow, at least. Finding the good in people is somewhat of an obsession, and Landon Winters is one that might prove futile.
But there’s no harm in scratching the surface.
I reinforce my soft heart against his barbs and shove onward. “Since you’re clearly not ready to move on, let’s whip up a hypothetical. What happens after I let you fuck me?”
That gets his attention. Landon straightens in his seat, the strict position alluding to him being all ears. “Let me? Sugar, you should be begging for my attention. Other women would kill to be in your position.”
I snort. “Wow, your arrogance has no limits.”
“How kind of you to notice,” he counters.
“Just for the record, I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Yet.”
“Ever.”
“We’ll see.”
I inhale a cleansing breath. His ability to dominate and alter the direction for our dialogue makes me queasy. “Tell me, how does one become so clinical when it comes to personal relationships?”
It’s his turn to grunt. “That’s a bold word choice. Sex is merely a physical act, and doesn’t require more than mutual permission. Pleasure is even questionable.”
“I would strongly disagree. Sharing your body with someone is a deeply personal experience.”
“Maybe for an emotional individual such as yourself.” The snarl in his tone makes me cringe. “And only if the purpose is to form an attachment.”
“For the sake of curiosity, how long will these shallow flings satisfy you?”
“Until my cock refuses to participate without medical intervention.” His complexion goes a tad gray around the edges.
“I hear those little blue pills are miracle workers.”
“My future impotence, if I ever succumb to such grotesque weakness, is none of your concern. Feed your curiosity elsewhere.” His discomfort only serves to fuel me.
“Don’t you want to find someone who makes you happy for more than one night?”
“That’s what my business partners are for. They make me very wealthy, which in turn gives me more joy than any temporary affair.”
“Everyone craves intimacy,” I reason.
“False, Savannah.” His eyebrows slice inward, the two dark slashes almost becoming one. “Love is a fool’s fantasy. Relationships are better off as bargaining chips.”
“Wow, you’re not jaded or anything.”
“That’s just reality, sugar. I was never given the courtesy to assume otherwise.”
It’s a struggle to maintain my composure. I’ve just stepped into a juicy pile worthy of suffering through this drivel. “What do you mean by that?”
“I’m a product of my environment.” His simple statement has zero chance of satisfying me.
“That’s not cryptic or anything.”
Landon’s scowl would make the devil shudder. “People in my position don’t have the luxury of dating for the fuck of it. Searching for a true match is juvenile. Not that the idea ever appealed to me, even at a young age.”
This is beginning to sound familiar, but I’m determined to uncover new intel. “So, you just magically stumble upon someone who meets criteria?”
“Don’t be dense,” he growls. “There’s an approved list to choose from. Don’t worry—I’m not lacking in the prospects department.”
I’m sure my expression reflects utter horror. My hopeless romantic soul is currently cowering in the corner. “Who’s orchestrating these unattainable guidelines? It sounds like nonsense to me.”
“That’s because you weren’t born with the expectations already in place.”
I furrow my brow. “Your parents?”
“They had an arrangement.” His reply is crisp and frosty.
“That feels so empty.” My stomach churns at the thought alone.
“Only if you’re careless enough to want more.”
“You’re trying to tell me these restrictions are for security reasons?”
Landon grinds his teeth, not spewing another syllable. I almost clench with the fear of him shutting down. Then he exhales a mouthful of pent-up frustration. “It goes well beyond that, as I’m sure you’re aware. Why are you fixated on this?”
“These customs are archaic. You must realize how backward this all sounds in modern times.”
“My practical choices amuse you?”
“Sure, let’s go wit
h that. To be honest, it feels like I’m watching an episode of Reign.”
“I don’t know what that is.” That small confession seems to wound him as he turns his glare to a spot over my shoulder.
“A dramatic Renaissance period show about the royal hierarchy in Europe. It’s beginning to form a connection with your story.”
“My decisions have nothing to do with overtaking the throne. I already have it.” He swats at the air, clearing my ramblings away. “These traditions are steeped in power and stability and alliances. What would a common coupling provide me with?”
Even his explanation makes me nauseous. “I’m well aware of your opinion on the matter.”
His nostrils flare with a harsh breath. “Ah, yes. We discussed the sanctity of marriage at Josh’s wedding.”
“I learned a lot about you from that brief, one-sided chat.” And dealt with a curse as punishment for pursuing him.
“Nothing of real value, I’m afraid. Perhaps that’s why you’re still here.”
“Gaining background information on my clients is protocol.”
“It’s highly doubtful that my preferences for a suitable significant other fit in those boundaries.” He yanks at his shirt collar again.
I hold up a palm. “Wait, am I making you uncomfortable?”
Landon’s features smooth into an unreadable mask. His hand drops faster than a lead weight. “That’s entirely impossible.”
“Then you won’t mind telling me more. Shall we proceed?” I tap a thumb on my thigh while swallowing a smile.
His gaze flashes as my sentence backs him in a proverbial corner. Unless he’s willing to admit defeat, I’ll continue prodding at this topic until the well runs dry. “Invading my privacy is a coward’s tactic.”
I twist my lips to one side. “Is that a no?”
A muscle at the hinge in his jaw flexes. He’s liable to crack a molar under that pressure. “By all means, Savannah, entertain your dull existence with my archaic customs.”
Repeating my choice of terms does little to deflect the attention. “What if you don’t like the person you’re paired with?”
Landon sighs, aggravation cracking the edges of his flat affect. He’s still humoring my interest, though. “Affection has nothing to do with it.”
“Don’t you have feelings?” I pucker my mouth tighter, the idea more sour than sucking on a lemon.
“Yes, unfortunately. I’ve done my due diligence to ensure those weaknesses don’t interfere.” That ominous statement makes me shiver.
“Emotions make us human,” I murmur.
“Then perhaps I’m a different species.”
“An alien?” I tilt my head to inspect him. “Yeah, I could see that. That’s the only way a man with such power would settle for a lacking marriage.”
“Trying to manipulate my meaning? You’re quite transparent. By choosing a bride for reasons beyond attraction and commonalities, I only have more control to gain.”
“Ah, yes. I suppose the overwhelming divorce rate benefits your case.”
Landon pauses for a moment. “Are you agreeing with me?”
I snort. “Hardly. I prefer to remain optimistic regardless of the probability. Without chemistry and compassion, there’s no purpose to build a foundation on. Those core values allow a relationship to flourish and last.”
He grunts, the hollow sound striking against my sternum. “Your bleeding heart is making a mess on my floor.”
The snarky bitch who resides on both of my shoulders lifts her perfectly coiffed head. “Are you jealous that I have the freedom to choose?”
Landon throws his head back, showing off the notch of his Adam’s apple. That knob is a vibrant stain buried in short stubble. I want to bite it off just so he can watch me spit it out. “Hardly, sugar. I’d have to care in order for that to be true and I give fewer shits than what I flush every morning. Besides that, there’s nothing you have that I want. What I’ll reap from a designated pairing will double my worth, which means far more than measly pitter-patters and butterflies. Plus, my current fortune significantly outweighs the piddly sum you’ll accrue in a lifetime. And that’s only if you bust your ass. I highly doubt that will happen since you seem to have a bad habit of running your mouth.”
It’s sufficient to say I’ve struck a nerve. “Damn, Rambo. What girl broke your heart? I need to call her and figure out how she managed to tolerate you long enough for that con.”
A bellow escapes him, letting me know I hit the jackpot on his weakness. “We’re done here.”
That escalated rather quickly. I flutter my lashes while shifting upright in the chair, feigning shock like a poorly paid actress. “Don’t you want to discuss the property listings I found?”
His complexion takes on a ruddy hue as I picture steam spewing from his ears. “Get the fuck out of my office.”
“Gonna make me?” Goading him while he’s already knocked down isn’t my finest decision.
“I’ll get Vince on the phone and have you fired within seconds.”
“Degrading yourself to more threats against my career? At least toss in some blackmail. I thought you were a better opponent than that.” But I begin packing to leave regardless. There’s no reason to push him any further. The throbbing veins in his temple are concerning enough. I give a wiggle of my fingers while crossing over the threshold. “We’ll talk tomorrow once you’ve regained that prideful indifference you’re so fond of. Have a pleasant day now.”
He slams the door behind me as a parting blow, but it lacks any conviction. We’re both well aware of what’s reverberating through that wooden barrier.
Silly Landon. With that reaction, you just gave this girl enough ammunition to win the war.
I clutch the glass until my knuckles turn white. This is my third whiskey in under twenty minutes, but the liquor has yet to take the edge off. All I see are painted red lips spewing the venom potent enough to infect my composure. I’m fit to argue with the richest, cockiest, most reckless executives our world has seen—and I always come out victorious. Yet that woman strikes me down with a lucky guess. Her undeniable appeal takes credit too. My attraction to her is only the beginning, and already proving to be problematic.
A smokey burn sizzles my taste buds as I savor another swig. There’s no harm in letting the expensive label ease my burdens. I might need to request the entire bottle at this rate, though. It’d probably be cheaper too. Not that the tab is any of my concern. Jordan offered to—and I quote—treat my surly ass to a fun-filled evening. Excuse me while I mock his bonding attempts. But here I am, waiting for the numb to settle in. Until then, that treacherous siren is consuming my thoughts.
Vannah Simons wormed her way under my defenses. She managed to rattle me with barely more than a conveniently placed assumption. There’s no chance she’s privy to the vicious truth. All she did was fling some stereotypical bullshit and hoped it stuck. Why did I allow her impulsive ranting to make an impact? I don’t crack under pressure—that’s a weakness I shed in grade school.
I guzzle the remaining alcohol and signal for one more. Hours later and I’m still reeling. My reaction was so predictable that it’s almost comical. If only I hadn’t handed Vannah control on a silver platter. I should’ve brushed off her efforts to rile me without even curling my lip into a sneer. It was a rookie mistake that my pride will pay for. That doesn’t mean she’s winning. Quite the opposite. I’ll ensure she pays dearly for unveiling thoughts of that wretched wench.
A meaty palm clamps onto my shoulder, giving me a jostle worthy of alert. I don’t bother shifting my gaze from the amber liquid currently failing me. Whatever Jordan is about to say will only aggravate the buzzing in my ears. “Our entire purpose of being at the bar is to relax. You look worse than this morning. What the hell happened?”
Rather than answering, I distract myself by taking a lay of the land. This is the type of dimly lit establishment my father would loathe. I find myself appreciating the swanky lounge atmosphe
re from that fact alone. The air is saturated with an upscale quality, like it costs a small fortune to even consider stepping inside. A long inhale grants me a whiff of supple leather, the char on an expertly grilled steak, and the tang from a ripe ego. That last tendril might be all me.
This booze palace could almost be misconstrued as seedy with its shadowy booths and dark alcoves. The clientele appears to be mostly male, which only feeds the gentleman’s club reputation. Jordan’s suggestions from earlier make a screeching reappearance as I take another slow look around.
“Why’d you bring me to this place?”
His gaze follows the trek of mine. “What’s wrong with The Lair? Figured a posh dude like yourself would appreciate the bold concept.”
“That’s one way to describe including exotic dancers and happy endings on their menu.” This isn’t my first rodeo. The night never ends with a mere striptease.
Jordan chokes on his drink, beer dribbling from his chin. “The fuck?”
Maybe I’m reading the situation wrong. I flick a glance to the framed artwork displayed on a nearby wall. The candid photographs seem innocent enough. “I wasn’t sure what sort of entertaining company you were planning to deliver.”
His booming cackle breaks the silence ballooning across the room. “And you think prostitutes would be a wise choice? I said this was my treat, but I’m not paying to get you laid. Nice try, Winters.”
The man sitting beside him snorts into his crystal tumbler. Brance Stone, Jordan’s buddy from work, is parked on a stool in the corner. The thunderous expression hasn’t left his face since he sat down. “I wouldn’t risk my marriage on this joint if that were the case. You can trust me more than Hughes. His wife would probably like the thrill.”
A grunt of my own tickles the back of my throat. Whipped much?
His friend is most likely bent out of shape due to the platinum band strangling his ring finger. Lord knows marriage—when obtained by standard vows—is a soul thief. Just one more reason I’ll never allow myself to fall victim to such a charade. Witnessing the dumpster fire that was my parents’ union is enough to deter me indefinitely, even if the arrangement is in my best financial interest.