by Emilia Finn
His power move.
“What do you want, Bryan?” I sit in my leather chair, roll it in close to my desk, and fuss with my mouse, like using my computer will make me appear less welcoming. “We had no meeting. In fact, you and I never have need to speak. Ever.”
So fucking at ease, so relaxed, he only grins and watches me fake-work. “Wanted to check in on our investment.”
My eyes whip to his. “Your investment? We’re the ones providing the finances in this deal. You seem to be confused on who is investing in who, Mr. Kincaid.”
“Whom.”
No anger. No passion. He only gives a gentle shake of his head and chuckles.
“Money doesn’t mean shit to me or mine, Madilyn. We have enough to last, and we were long ago bred to live on baked beans. We’re the ones risking our brand on your inferior car products. Your company is a hundred years old, and yet, you come to us.” He tilts his head. “That right there,” he bites his tongue in what I’m certain he thinks is a sexy look, “well, that’s the writing on the wall, ain’t it?”
Clenching teeth, racing heart, I release my mouse and sit back to study his face. His arrogant smirk. I frown at the coloring beneath his eye, the scuffing along his jaw, and wonder who he fought since I saw him at his gym.
They hurt him. Whoever they are, they left their mark.
“First of all,” I start. “Monaco’s brand is solid. Having a hundred-year-old company is the writing on the wall, Bryan. We’ve been here a long time. We’re evergreen. And we’ve a track record of success and profit. Secondly,” I lift a brow, “inferior products?” I actually scoff. “If Monaco was inferior, then explain to me why you drive on Monacos? Why does your exhaust have our stamp? Why was your steering wheel swapped out for ours?”
Now it’s my turn to smile. “I saw it. I saw your steering wheel. Your gear stick. You’re a loyal customer, Kincaid, so don’t come at me about ‘inferior products’. Speaking of which…” I point at my jaw. “You losing your touch?”
His lips twist into a snarky grin as he clasps his hands. “I’m good with my hands, Madilyn. But I’m hardly the best fighter on the planet. Fortunately for me, I only have to be better than Jackson Price.” He chuckles. “Which, frankly, is hardly a tall order. I suspect his ineptitude in the octagon translates to bed, which…” He looks me up and down. “Your taste in men surprises me. Did he buy you?”
“You despicable prick,” I snap. “I’m not for sale. Jackson’s skill in bed has nothing to do with you. And you’re completely delusional if you think I’m going to entertain this discussion for a minute more.” I push to my feet. “You can leave. If Stacked Deck would like to speak with me, then have one of the important members call.” I flick my wrist. “At this juncture, you’re simply a seat-filler. Nothing more. Leave, walk straight to your car, and stay off every property connected to me, my family, and my friends. We no longer need to communicate.”
“Why did you seek out my family?” No longer carefree, he sits forward and shows off dark, dangerous eyes. “Why, Madilyn? I’m gonna be like a dog at a fuckin’ bone over this until I know your motives. You should have left this,” he throws his hands up, “whatever this is, between us. But you couldn’t help your damn self. You had to involve those I love.” He grits his teeth. “Men have died for less.”
“Oh, you’re going to threaten me now, too?” I thrust a hand in his direction. “Super classy, Bryan. But I shouldn’t expect anything else from someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” he shoots back. “You don’t even know me! You take one sentence, one douchey thing I say, and figure you know me. I’m a good man with a bad rep. I live my life without apology, I treat people well until they give me reason not to.”
“You don’t respect women!”
He scoffs. “I treat women how they treat me; my mother, I treat her with the utmost respect. My grandmother. My sisters and cousins. I treat them like gold. Girls at the track?” He lifts a brow. “They come to me, they ask for a fast fuck. So I oblige them. That doesn’t mean I mistreat them. It means I give them exactly what they asked for, then I make sure they get home safely. Explain to me how that makes me a bad person?”
“Every woman I’ve ever come into contact with says the same thing about you.” My eyes wheel around in search of… something. A savior? A hole to hide in? “The proof that you’re a dog is everywhere. You’re the only one claiming innocence.”
“You call me a dog,” he snaps. Loud. Too loud. “But you hang with the likes of Price, and ignore the fleas he’s giving you.”
I jolt back with a kind of hiss, and think of my best friend’s brother. “You have no clue who I am, or my relationship with Jackson Price! You make assumptions about my life.”
“Doesn’t feel nice, does it?” Point one, Bryan Kincaid. “You ride with him, you arrive in his car, you stand behind him when he’s squaring up to me.” Finally, he stands. “If you’re standing on his side of the line, then you and I cannot be friends. If we can’t be friends, then that means we have a fuckin’ problem when you’re signing my family into multi-million-dollar contracts.”
“Your family members are grownups, Bryan. They’re free to make business decisions without your input.”
“That’s true. And I’m free to enquire as to those business dealings. Don’t forget, Princess; my name is on every single one of those contracts you countersigned. Every single thing you plan to do with those papers involves me, and since I have bucketloads of free time, I might just hang around here and make sure you’re conducting business in an appropriate manner.”
With this new idea, he sits back down, folds his hands in his lap, and, to add insult to injury, lifts his feet to my desk and slams them down so clumps of mud and dirt drop to my mahogany desktop.
“Carry on. Work.” He waves a hand toward my phone when it rings. “I don’t need to be hosted. I can chill for days and watch you work.”
Sitting forward when I continue to stare at him, he waves to… nowhere. “Is that a dropped thumbtack on the floor? Probably should pick it up before you hurt yourself. Bend over,” he drawls. “Do it slowly.”
“You’re a terrible person,” I seethe. I sit back in my chair and try to hide my panic. “You’re absolutely despicable.”
“Cry me a river.”
He takes out his phone and begins tapping. It takes only a moment for me to recognize the Angry Birds theme music.
“So far, I’m unimpressed,” he adds without looking up. “All this time spent on the clock, and you haven’t even turned your computer on yet. I’ll be sure to mention it at the next Stacked Deck meeting. I’m certain my family will be interested in how you spend your time.”
Do I call security? Do I call Jackson? God, do I call the police?
In reality, I do none of those things. It would look terrible on the six o’clock news if word got out that I had a Kincaid removed from the premises just days after signing a massive endorsement deal with the very company he has shares in.
And I don’t call Jackson, because despite the fact he works here, there’s no way in hell I’m letting them tear up my office. Plus, the six o’clock news thing.
So what am I supposed to do?
Staring at my blank computer screen, I swallow my nerves and take a moment to collect myself.
I have Bryan-effing-Kincaid in my office, and he’s made it clear he’s staying to torment me.
All because I kneed him in the balls?
“I want my hat back, by the way.”
I glance up, but his eyes remain on his phone. “What?”
“My hat.”
He readjusts his heavy legs and draws my attention to them. To the thick denim, thick thighs. Thick… everything. His hips are wide. His stomach is solid. His shoulders are so broad that he makes me feel tiny. He’s a fighter through and through. Born and bred for the sport.
“The hat was my dad’s,” he continues. “And his dad’s before him. I’m not playing, Madilyn. I�
�m gonna need that fuckin’ hat back, and soon. If you think trashing it would be fun, then you’re way wrong. This isn’t a game to me.”
I look at the hat he wears now. At the dark hair that pokes out from beneath. “You have a hat.”
Without thought, he lifts a hand and plucks the navy-blue cap from his head. He tosses it at my desk, lets it drop with a clunk when the brim smacks the mahogany. “Have this one. I know it’s common for women to want a souvenir, so take that hat, free and clear. I won’t even ask for it back. But I’m gonna need the Padres cap back. Unharmed.” Finally, dark, dangerous eyes study mine. “Yesterday.”
“Oh!”
I spin when my office door opens wide. Jenna stops on the threshold and turns positively pale.
She was wearing a smile, but now she looks between me and Bryan, and presses a hand to her stomach. “Hooooooly… Um…” Finally, her eyes come to mine. “What the actual eff?”
“Jenna Price.” Bryan lowers his feet, but only to sit forward and study my best friend with an appreciative eye.
Why, when I loathe him so, does it make me sick to my stomach the way his eyes scour her body? The knowledge they’ve spent time in bed together used to make me angry. Now… I feel sick.
“Good to see you again, darlin’. You look…” His eyes stop on her chest. “Perky.”
Jenna’s fiery gaze snaps to me. “Maddi?”
“It’s not my fault,” I sigh. “He came here unannounced. Now he says he’s not leaving.” I frown at her. “Why are you here?”
“Yeah, Jenna.” Bryan sits back and slams his boots onto my desk. More mud. “Don’t you work someplace else?”
She turns her back to him in complete dismissal as she sits on the edge of my desk and tries to scream with her eyes. “Explain?” That’s all she says out loud, but in her mind, she’s shouting obscenities. “Slight… conflict of interest, no?”
I drop my elbows to my desk so they rest by her hips. Then I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, but not before catching sight of Bryan’s laughing gaze.
“He wanted to discuss the endorsement contracts I recently signed with his family.”
“Excuse me.” His voice is sweet like sugar. Bubbly like a soda stream. “Hello? Hi.” He grins when he has our attention. “Is Ms. Price employed by Monaco Auto?”
When I shake my head, his eyes turn to fiery slits. “So why the fuck are you explaining legally binding contracts to someone that has no business knowing about them?”
“Because she’s my– Ugh!” I look to Jenna. “He’s right. He’s here for business. That’s all I’m legally allowed to tell you. Could you step out please? We can catch up later.”
“Though you won’t be discussing business, will you, ladies?”
“Ya know what?” Jenna spins so fast that she knocks over half my stationery. “Shut the hell up, Bry. Don’t you have a Clorox bath you need to get to?”
“Because of you?” He scoffs. “Nah, one was sufficient. You’re not that STD-ridden, are you?”
“You– You’re—” she blusters. “You’re a prick!”
He shrugs. “I’ve also got medical clearance. Fit to fuck… er, I mean fight another day. If you were all about the experimenting life before you cancelled your engagement, then I suggest you make an appointment with your doctor. I know of at least three other dudes you kept warm while you wore another man’s ring. That’s a lot of cross-contamination.”
“Why are you so fucking rude?” Jenna screeches. She bounds up from the desk and charges forward like she might deck him. “Why are you trying to hurt people?”
He looks completely at ease as he lowers his phone. “I’m the messenger, babe. I’m the human embodiment of your conscience. You did dirty things with dirty men, and I simply… made it known.”
“All because my brother took your sister out on a date?”
“All because your brother sought my sister out, knowing who the fuck she was, doing it with the pure intention to hurt me through her, then he sent her home with a broken heart. I explained this very conundrum not twenty minutes ago to your friend; fight with me, and I’ll turn up every time. I’ll square up, I’ll go a round. But bring my family into it, and I stop playing nice. Jackson screwed up the day he set his eyes on my sister. Madilyn… is walking a fine line. She approached my family, so when I figure out how she intends to harm them, I’ll end it. I’ll end her. I’ll end Monaco. And any motherfucker that wants to stand in my way will meet the same fate.”
“You’re a damn psycho,” Jenna hisses. “It was just a friggin’ date. He made her cry, just like you made me cry. How do you justify your continued war on my family?”
“Because I did nothing to you,” he growls. “I did nothing but expose your ugly personality. You’re pissed because you were caught.” Finally, he stands and pockets his phone. “You were caught, and you like being angry at anyone except yourself. You’re angry at me, at your ex, at your daddy, at the whole fucking world. But you know what you are?” He doesn’t give her time to answer. “A spoiled fucking brat. You’re that asshole kid that nobody likes in the playground, because you scream and cry to get your own way. And when you screw up, you refuse to take responsibility for your own actions.”
His fiery eyes snap to mine. “Jokes aside, the fact you call her your friend says a hell of a lot about you. The fact you’re Jackson’s girl finishes off my opinion. You’re filth.” He looks to Jenna. “The both of you are fuckin’ filth. And instead of a little self-reflection and responsibility, you’d rather talk shit about me.”
He storms around Jenna and stops at the corner of my desk. “Have my hat delivered before the end of the week, Madilyn. Undamaged. Don’t push me on this. If you’ve marked it, torn it, cut it, or lost it, I’ll deliver the same back to you.” He grits his teeth and growls, “You don’t want me as an enemy. It’s not good for your health.”
He swings the door wide with such force that the wind blows papers on my desk, then he stomps out, and slams it so hard that the vibrations work their way around to my windows.
So much for not letting my staff hear us. So much for remaining impassive and professional.
“Oh god.” I work on my breathing before I completely lose my shit. “Oh shit, Jen. Holy shit.”
“I told you,” she hisses. “I told you he was an asshole. He’s the worst of the worst.”
“What do you want?”
I keep my head down and off my windows when I hear his boots stomping past. He can’t see in, but we can sure as shit see out.
When he’s on the stairs, I look up to my friend, “What? What are you doing here?”
“I—” She stops and scowls at my tone. “Why are you mad at me?”
“Because that was clearly a bad fucking meeting! Because the volatility between his family and ours is unstable. Because before you came, he was being obnoxious, but calm and kind. Then you turn up and send him over the damn edge.”
“It’s my fault that he’s got a bad temper? Are you serious right now?”
“It’s your fault that you poked! It’s your fault that he blew up!”
“Oh wow!” she cries. “Way to victim-blame, Maddi. Jesus, it’s that easy, huh? You’re on his side after knowing him for two seconds. You’re that easy?”
Not as easy as you.
“Who’s the victim?” I ask. “Who, Jen? Because he’s right. What you and he did was consensual. You were grown adults who had sex. And you said it yourself, a crook of his finger is all it took for you to remove your panties. So whatever fallout came from that, that’s on you. He wasn’t the one engaged to be married. You were. And now, because Andrew walked, somehow that’s everyone else’s fault?”
“You’re being a bitch,” she glowers. “You’ve known him for two minutes, and now you’re his best friend? A lifetime of friendship with me, but two minutes with him, and you’re jumping ships like,” she snaps her fingers, “that? Seriously, Madilyn?”
I push around my desk, and barely
stop short of screaming when I see his hat sitting exactly where he tossed it.
“I’m trying to run a company here, Jen. Despite you and Jackson and Hannah being put-out because big-bad-Bryan Kincaid was mean to you one time, I’m trying to run an actual company with actual money. I laid down four and a half million dollars of Monaco money on this deal, and despite immature grudges, I’d really like to not lose that money and have to explain it to my family.”
Her eyes, full of rage and challenge, stare me down as she stands in my office in a dress she designed and created on her own. She drops her hands to her hips, and leans closer to snarl, “I came here to tell you I just got done on today’s fitting for Kincaid’s wedding dress. I was coming to take you out to lunch, because they paid their fifty percent installment, and because of that, I was feeling pretty damn social. I wanted to see my best friend, I wanted to gossip with her about the bitches I had to tolerate today…” She lifts a dangerous brow. “But I guess I ran face-first into another bitch. Charming.”
She turns toward my door, swings it wide much like Bryan did, but she stops and turns back to me. “Call me when your period ends. You’re usually more chill once you stop bleeding.”
She blows through my door and slams it with extra drama tacked on for show. And when I find myself alone in my office, I rush across and flip the locks to keep anyone else out.
I’m done with people for today. Done with this entire friggin’ week.
I stumble back to my desk in annoying heels, and drop down into my chair in an annoying skirt suit. And when my phone rings, I curse it with the fire of a million suns while I ignore it.
Then my cell rings. Jackson Price.
I ignore that too.
Instead, I sit on my hands to keep myself from touching the hat that sits just two feet away.
It’s not a hell of a lot different to the Padres cap that sits in my desk drawer. I could have given it back. And maybe, if Jenna hadn’t barged in, I would have. I want to act like I have my shit under control, I want to act sophisticated and cold. Unreachable. Untouchable. Like a true princess. But the real me hates heels, suits, and gossip. I hate bitching, I hate stealing, and that girl that kicked Bryan Kincaid in the nards… I hate her too.