by Meghan March
I relaxed a fraction when green eyes set beneath dark brows pierced me.
“Trouble, Ms. Santos?”
Lucas Titan. The same asshole who’d landed a cheap shot in Con’s balls, and whose friend thought I looked like an easy pickup tonight.
“I’ve got it handled.”
One dark eyebrow lifted and he pulled away, but he didn’t go far. No, he pulled up and parked in front of the Blue Beast, and his driver’s side door opened.
Great. Just what I need, some rich prick thinking he knows how to handle my business better than I do. Titan gave off that master of all I survey vibe that rubbed me the wrong way on every level. Old habits die hard, and all that.
I looked back down at my cell and found Cousin Stevie’s contact info. Before I could hit the Call button, Titan stood beside me, looking pissed off.
“Why the hell did you get out of your car? It’s not safe. If you break down, you sit your sweet little ass inside, call a wrecker, and wait.”
Oh. Hell. No. If he was expecting me to nod my head like a pretty little doll and follow orders, he was in for a shock. I’d come a long way from the days when I fell in line just because a man told me to.
I spun to face him. “I don’t live my life according to the laws of Lucas Titan, so you can feel free to get back in your car and go on about your night.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected from him, but it wasn’t a deep, rumbling laugh.
“Everyone lives according to the laws of Lucas Titan. You just don’t know it yet.” He leaned in closer until the green of his eyes reflected the interior light of my car, and I could clearly make out the five o’clock shadow shading his jaw. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll enjoy the hell out of it.”
The combination of the sexy laugh and innuendo-filled words sent shivers through me. I didn’t give a damn about Titan or his cocky attitude. I just needed to get my car on Stevie’s tow truck so he could take it to the shop.
I shrugged off my unwanted reaction, getting back to what was important. My car. “Whatever. Now that you know I’m fine, you can go on about your evening.”
He flashed a wolfish smile. “And lose my one chance to play the white knight? Why would I do a thing like that?”
When he lifted a hand as if he intended to touch me, my entire body tensed in anticipation. “Because I’m no damsel in distress. And white knight? I think that’s a hell of a stretch for you, Titan.”
His hand curled into a fist, and he dropped it to his side. My eyes snapped up to meet his now cold stare, and disappointment slid through me. What the hell, Yve?
“Good to know you’ve got no misplaced assumptions about me being one of the good guys. Apparently you’ve got a better sense of self-preservation than your actions imply. Now get your stuff and get in my car. I’m giving you a ride home.”
“Wh-what?” I sputtered. “I have a cousin with a tow truck. He’ll figure it out.”
“I said get your stuff,” he repeated. “I’ll have my guy come get it and bring it back to his shop.”
I didn’t handle decrees well. And by that, I meant not at all. “Not necessary. I’ve got it covered.”
“I didn’t ask if it was necessary. Now get your stuff.”
Each of the last four words were bitten out in a harsh tone that pushed all my buttons. Simultaneously. My hands hit my hips, and I squared off with him to give him a piece of my mind.
“Now listen here, Titan. I’m not about to let you roll up and start ordering me—”
Gunshots echoed in the distance, halting my tirade mid-breath.
Titan flew into action, slamming the hood shut and turning to face me. “Get your shit. We’re going.”
I wanted to argue, but a second round of shots and the shriek of squealing tires nearby made my decision to shut up and comply a little easier. “Fine.”
I strode to my car and leaned in to pull my keys from the ignition, then slammed the door and locked it. I didn’t wait for an invitation, just marched around to the passenger side of his still-idling car and reached for the handle.
Titan beat me to it. I jerked back, jumpy at having him sneak up behind me so quietly. He was a big man; he shouldn’t be able to move that soundlessly. But those old, fearful reactions—the ones I’d fought to overcome—were shoved aside by an altogether different kind of awareness. Heat zipped down my spine where his body was only an inch from mine.
No. That’s impossible. Lucas Titan is the last man who should pull that kind of reaction from me. My body couldn’t be trusted. I steeled myself against the growing urge to press back against him as he opened the door, and I slipped inside the car.
I knew from the outside that it was expensive, but the interior proved it, especially when I read the embroidery on the floor mat. Aston Martin. There were several things I knew to be true, and one of them was that my ass did not belong in a seat this pricey. But I didn’t have time to think about that because Titan was already in the driver’s seat, throwing the car into gear and pulling away.
“You’re stubborn, you know that?”
“And you’re bossy,” I replied.
His gaze cut to me before shifting back to the windshield. “You want to get caught in a drive-by? Is that on your agenda for this evening? Jesus, woman. You should have a better sense of self-preservation.”
Words. So. Many. Words. And they all bubbled up inside me to spew at him. To tell him exactly where he could shove his judgments of me. But I didn’t. I held them back because he didn’t need to know my sad little story, or how I had dragged myself out of a relationship that could have made me the guest of honor at a funeral parade.
“Where do you live?” he asked, slowing at the next light.
“Tremé. Take a left at the third light.”
An awkward silence filled the car, making me wish he’d hit the gas a little harder, because God knew this fancy car could move quicker. The interior wasn’t small, but Titan’s presence was overwhelming. And Jesus Christ, why did a man who was such a dick have to smell so damn good? Clean with a hint of some exotic, expensive spice. On any other man, I would have leaned closer to inhale the intoxicating scent.
But not him. No way. I’d done rich man before. I knew how that story ended.
When we neared the major cross streets closest to my apartment, I decided we’d gone far enough. “You can drop me here,” I said as he slowed at a stop sign.
Titan’s dark green eyes pinned me to my seat. “Here. At the corner.” His words weren’t a question; they were a wry statement.
“Yes. Here. At the corner,” I parroted back at him.
“You have a problem with someone seeing you to your door?” His tone dripped with condescension.
Lord, but I’d never disliked someone quite so quickly in my life. “Maybe I don’t trust you to know where I live.”
“And I don’t let women out on random street corners in neighborhoods that aren’t safe after dark.”
“There are a lot of things that aren’t safe about this neighborhood, and I know them all. You’re the wild card here, Titan.”
I reached for the handle and tugged. It didn’t move. I ran my hand along the panel, looking for the lock. Stupid expensive cars, everything had to be sleek and hidden. I found it and popped the door open.
“Are you always this stubborn?” he asked as I climbed out.
I thought of the time in my life when I’d let a man walk all over me. “I am now,” I replied.
“Good, then you’ll recognize stubborn when I follow you to your door and make sure you get inside without getting shot or stabbed.”
I slammed the door, and he pulled into an empty spot along the road.
Screw that. It might have been undignified and downright ridiculous, but I ran across the street and ducked between two houses. Darting down the narrow space, I headed for the alley that skirted along the back of the house where my apartment sat on the second floor.
“Goddamn it,” I heard him grunt. “You
’re fucking kidding me.”
A small grin tugged at my lips, and I jogged down the alley to let myself into the side gate. Apparently not everyone lived under the law of Lucas Titan. It should be a good lesson for him.
It wasn’t until I reached my door that I realized I’d left my car keys in the Aston Martin.
Shit. I sat down on the steps of the porch, listening for the sound of the Aston Martin to come purring up the road, but the low rumble never came. With a sigh of relief, I pulled out my phone to call my landlord to let me in. That was one way to distract myself from these unwanted thoughts of Lucas Titan.
MY HANDS SHOOK AS I read the letter. It was just a piece of paper, and yet it had enough weight behind it to rock the foundation of my world—and my world was centered around this store. I didn’t need to lift my eyes from the letter in order to visualize the bright blue walls of Dirty Dog and the shiny black trim. Or the vintage dress forms I used instead of mannequins, and the shabby chic armoires I’d chosen and refinished myself. This shop was my life.
But I only managed it. Harriet owned it. And now she was selling it.
The letter from a business broker, already creased from my sweaty palms, thanked Harriet for engaging them and said they were looking forward to finding the right buyers for her entire portfolio of businesses. I lowered it to the display case and eyed the envelope as if it might contain anthrax. It had been addressed to Harriet, but like all the other mail, I’d automatically opened it anyway.
I sucked in a breath but my lungs were malfunctioning; I couldn’t get enough air. Pain shot through my chest, and my stomach churned in big, swamping waves. My eyes burned with tears I’d never let fall.
I can’t lose this place.
The door chime jangled, snapping me out of my downward spiral. I hauled in a full breath and pasted on my customer-friendly smile.
“Hey, lady! How’s it goin’?”
Elle’s cheery voice filled the shop, and my lip wobbled until my smile fell away. If it had been anyone else walking through the door, I wouldn’t have revealed a chink in my armor. But this was Elle, one of the few people I trusted. The woman who’d held my hand and poured me tequila when I’d first heard my ex was up for parole. The woman who hadn’t called me crazy when I’d sat on her apartment floor and stitched a voodoo doll of him to take out my frustration, disgust, and bone-chilling fear. I could count on one hand the number of people I’d let see me in that state, and Elle happened to be at the top of that short list.
Elle’s forehead crinkled and her brows drew into auburn slashes as she took in my expression. “Whose ass do I need to kick? Is it him? Did he do something?”
The him she was referring to was obviously my ex. And—knock on wood—he was the one thing I wasn’t worrying about at this very moment. As far as I knew, he was still in prison, pending release.
“No. Nothing like that. It’s . . .” I didn’t even want to say the words out loud, because then what was written in the letter would be real.
Picking up on my mood immediately, Elle came to the counter and leaned her elbows on the glass. “Seriously, hon. What’s going on?”
I pushed the letter toward her. “Looks like it’s the end of an era.”
Her brow creased, and she picked up the paper. I watched her face as she scanned it, expecting commiseration, platitudes meant to placate me. But when she’d finished, instead I got a pointed look and her no-bullshit attitude.
“Why don’t you buy it then?” she asked as she handed the letter back to me.
It was such a simple concept, but my brain struggled to wrap around the idea. “B-buy it? I can’t—” I sputtered.
“Why not? You’ve run this place without Harriet’s supervision for years. There’s no one who would be a better owner. Actually, I’m surprised she didn’t come to you first. It would’ve made the most sense.”
That thought hadn’t even made it through my thick brain. Why hadn’t Harriet asked me first?
Because you’re nothing but a shop girl—not owner material, a voice inside me taunted.
My hands curled into fists. I’d been fighting that voice for years—the one that told me how worthless I was at every opportunity. And still I couldn’t shut it up. It was a remnant of him.
Who else could possibly love you? he’d told me. You’re lucky I even put up with your ass. Don’t you know how much better I could do? I picked you because I knew you needed me to love you.
I gritted my teeth as an unwelcome burst of his negativity flooded my brain.
Fuck. Him.
I could own this shop. Hell, I should own Dirty Dog. No one was more qualified to run it. Who else knew where to get the best inventory? Who else could keep the quirky reputation intact? This store was mine.
“You’re right,” I said as I lifted my head and squared my shoulders. “I should buy it.”
Elle’s lips curled into a wide smile. “Atta girl. That’s the sassy Yve I know and love.”
Seconds later, practicality battered my newfound determination. How could I ever pay for it? My savings account was okay, but not anywhere near flush enough to buy a business in the French Quarter.
Elle’s brain bounced right along the same track as mine. “You need a backer? Silent partner? Because I know a girl . . .”
The offer should have been tempting, but I would walk away before I accepted a handout.
Strings. Money always came with strings.
“Uh. No. I mean, I’ve got some ideas. You know what they say about taking money from friends, anyway. I’d never want to lose you, and certainly not because of that.”
The crease in Elle’s brow deepened. “You think I’d—”
“No. I’m just saying . . . I appreciate your offer, but I’m going to have to decline.”
“Do you really have other ideas? Or are you feeding me a line of crap?”
My brain shuffled through all the possibilities. The bank? The SBA? Maybe one of those organizations that support young entrepreneurs? I’d figure out something.
I met her frustrated stare. “I’ve got some ideas. I swear. No bullshit.”
“If you’re sure . . .”
“I’m sure.” My tone rang with finality, which Elle didn’t miss.
“Okay. Dropping it. Now let’s talk about this dress you’ve got for me. Hand it over.”
I turned and unzipped the garment bag hanging on the funky iron hook behind me. Parting the sides, I revealed emerald-green satin perfection. Elle was going to look amazing. And I happened to know that her man, Lord, had a thing about his redhead in green.
“Oh!” Elle clapped her hands. “It’s so much better than I even thought. I’m gettin’ lucky when I wear this.”
She dug her credit card out of her purse and handed it over. “You are the best. See—this is just one more example of why you were born to own this place. It would never be Dirty Dog without you. It would be just another touristy shop. You are the lifeblood of this store. Harriet has to know that.”
Her words unleashed a shimmer of pride inside me. I was the driving force behind the success of this store. It wouldn’t be the same without me. I needed to find a way to make it mine permanently, and I needed to meet Harriet as an equal—as a businesswoman with a plan. Shoulders squared again, I charged Elle for the dress as my mind spun with what I needed to do next.
This determined Yve—the one I’d forged out of broken pieces—never backed down from a fight.
IF I HADN’T SCHOOLED MYSELF in keeping my expression completely blank, I would have given away the rage coursing through me. I was a man with simple expectations: do what I ask, the way I ask you to do it, and do it right the first fucking time. I held myself to a ridiculously high standard. No one could keep up with the demands I placed on myself, but I expected people to live up to the lower expectations I had of them. How fucking hard was it to be a goddamn lobbyist? I paid them to get shit done.
And yet shit wasn’t done.
“So, what you’r
e telling me is since the last time we met—over a month ago—you’ve gotten absolutely no support for this bill?”
Cartwright, the principal of the most prestigious lobbyist firm in the state of Louisiana, seemed to shrink a little in his starched French collar shirt. “I’m sorry, Mr. Titan. I thought one of my associates was handling the matter, and it appears he was more fixated on handling a young legislative aide. He’s been terminated.”
Wonderful. A guy led by his dick—and in a way that totally fucked my chances of getting this bill passed.
“Then what’s your plan, Cartwright?” The man better have a plan. I didn’t take well to people who brought me only problems and not even a hint of a solution. People needed to show a little goddamn initiative.
“Well, Mr. Titan, I hadn’t really thought beyond solving the immediate problem. I’ll go back to my office and brainstorm some ideas.”
I said nothing for a few moments, just let the silence of the room wrap uncomfortably around him. Finally, I nodded. “Go. I expect an answer by midnight.”
His eyes bugged wide. It was already after five.
“Or you’re fired,” I added. “And I know damn well Titan Industries is over a third of your business.”
Nodding his head in a jerky movement, the man backed away until he hit the door with his heels. Then he turned and shuffled through it, and the room was silent once more. Until Colson spoke.
“You should’ve fired him on the spot.”
Anyone else questioning my judgment would have caught the sharp side of my tongue, but Colson was an exception to the rule.
“Giving him a few extra hours is easier than bringing on a new lobbyist at this point. I’m doing it for me, not as a favor to him.”
“Still, he doesn’t deserve it. Besides, if he’d been thinking on his feet, he would’ve offered up the obvious solution.”
And this was why Colson was my COO. Because he was smarter than ninety-nine percent of the people I came in contact with.