by Starr, Tara
A devilish handsome asshole, but an asshole nonetheless.
“I see that you’re already familiar with each other,” Taylor chuckles, clapping Austin on the back. “The best furniture companies in the state, battling it out for the deal of the year. This should be interesting, don’t you think?”
“Depends. If you think a massacre is interesting, then I agree.” We haven’t even shaken hands and Austin’s already taking a shot at me.
Cocky bastard.
Smirking, he allows his gaze to drift from Taylor to me. Just as I did with him, he seems to be taking me in, his eyes shamelessly tracing the contour of my curves. Right away, I can tell that he’s used to having women groveling at his feet.
Well, that’s not going to be me.
“Don’t you worry,” I reply, “I’ll do my best not to humiliate anyone. You’ll still have a reputation to defend when I’m done with you.” Never taking my eyes off him, I return his smirk. “Maybe.”
“Well, this is definitely going to be interesting,” Ashley chirps merrily as she joins us. She’s standing so close to Taylor that their hands are almost brushing together. “Just try not to tear the building down while you’re at it, alright?”
“Yeah, or Draper Pierce will eat you for lunch,” Taylor throws almost casually, even though I know he’s dead serious. His bank isn’t known for fucking around, especially when we’re talking about billion-dollar deals.
For a guy heading one of the scariest financial organizations in the world, he sure seems laidback about things, though. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. One word out of his mouth and he can probably tank the economy of any country he chooses, so why should he be worried about anything in the world? Hell, the world should worry about him.
“Speaking of lunch, I’m ravenous, ” Ashley cuts in. “Haven’t had dinner yet. What do you say we go and grab a bite?” The way she just pronounced that slippery we leaves no room for a doubt. She’s talking about Taylor and her. My God, she’s head over heels with this guy.
“Sounds like a plan,” Taylor nods, shaking Austin’s hand and mine. “I’ll see you guys soon enough. In a day or two, you should get the guidelines for the first challenge.”
“Enjoy...dinner,” Austin tells Taylor, giving me a knowing look as he does it. Turning around, he returns his attention to me.
“These two are going to have more than just dinner,” I’m saying as I watch Taylor and Ashley walk out of the conference room, laughing and looking into each other’s eyes like two lovebirds. What the hell happened to Ashley? She loved to bust guy's balls almost as much as I do, and now look at her being all cozy with Mr. Banking Billionaire.
“Yeah, they’re definitely planning for a long dessert to be included in the menu,” Austin agrees, and I find myself laughing. I actually have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from overdoing it. I don't want to act too friendly toward this guy.
He’s the enemy, after all.
“You ready for this, Tess?” he asks me.
I keep my game face on.
“I could ask you the same question,” I say back to him.
“Oh, I was born ready for this, baby,” he says.
I roll my eyes.
I’ve had enough of this.
So this condescending asshole—convinced he’s God’s gift to women—thinks that just because I have a pussy that I can’t play the game at his level? We’ll see whose laughing when I sign the fucking contract for this place.
Honestly, babe, I’m not some angry bitter woman.
I’ve just had to fight and struggle for everything, you know?
You gotta know what it’s like being a woman in America. If you’re not at home with the kids then you’re somehow not the perfect mom and thereby not the perfect woman. If you do end up working, there’s a chance that guys will walk all over you. But if you act forceful and assert yourself, people will call you a bitch. But when a guy acts forceful, he’s a player and a rock star.
Well, I’m done with that.
I’m going to destroy everyone here in this competition.
We start walking out of the conference room together, but I stop as something catches my attention.
“What the hell is he doing?” I ask, watching as Willis goes down on all fours on the corner of the room, his head just a few inches away from the wall. Judging from the incessant shutter sound coming from his phone ever since the meeting ended, the guy hasn’t stopped snapping pictures.
“Probably trying to figure out the best way to sell himself as a human chair,” Austin replies, turning around to glance at Willis and cocking one eyebrow at the poor guy. “Seriously, I don’t even know why they bother. This isn’t a competition.”
“No, it isn’t,” I agree, making my way toward the elevator with him. Once we’re inside, I immediately regret being alone in a closed space with Austin. There’s something about him that’s...suffocating. And I’m not even sure if I mean that in a bad way.
“It’s just between the two of us, if you really get down to it.” Tapping the number to what I assume is his floor, he leans back against one of the walls and gives me a smile. Not a grin or a smirk, but a smile.
I hate to agree with him, but he has a point there. From everyone in that room, only the two of us have a real shot at nailing that contract.
Not that I’ll ever let him know that.
“Do you really think you stand a chance against me?” he asks again, as if not believing that I’m ready for him. “I’m the Austin, of Oakmont,” he says. I swear, it takes every single nerve in my body to stop me from just yelling at him.
“Do you think you stand a chance against the Tess, of Domina?” I say back, giving him my most dismissive look at his ‘don’t you know who I am’ bullshit.
Neither of us reply. We just stare into each other’s eyes for a long second, electricity crackling in the air around us, and that’s when the elevator stops with its usual ding. The doors slide open, and I wait for Austin to walk out. Instead, he just waves at me, performing a mocking bow.
“Ladies first,” he announces, straightening his back. “I thought we could do with a drink before we go our separate ways.”
“I thought this was your floor.”
“Nope,” he shrugs. “I just wanted to come to the bar and invite you for a drink.”
Jesus Christ. The balls on this one are huge. I’m impressed.
“Very well. But you’re buying.”
“Don’t worry. My company is doing well enough to cover your expenses.”
Bastard.
By the time we finally settle in by the counter, I can’t help but feel slightly intrigued by him. I had heard stories about him, and although I believe them to be true...I just had no idea that he is as interesting as he is arrogant. I thought he was a buffoon, one more asshole to add to the long list of idiots I have to deal with it on a daily basis. But, surprisingly, his charm is actually quite polished.
“Your company has never handled a project this big, right?” Austin asks.
As he nurses his whisky, he waves one hand at the expansive area of the bar. Sitting on the 40th floor, this one is actually reserved for the exclusive use of the residents, unlike the one on the ground floor. The glass panels that replace the outer walls stretch outward, diagonal to the ground floor, and give the impression that the room is about to take flight.
“No. But size isn’t everything,” I reply, my words like a whip. Smiling, I take a sip out of my vodka, the sting of it going down from my tongue to my stomach. “There are other things to be considered.”
“I agree. But you’ve got me curious now. Aside from size, what else is important to you?”
“Many things,” I glance at him sideways, dragging my thumb along the rim of the glass. “I like to have the whole package.”
“You’d be a demanding client, I can already tell.”
“Oh, no doubt about it,” I laugh, raising my glass in his direction. “I’d be the worst.”
/>
“I’ve never failed a client before.” He doesn’t miss a heartbeat as the words rush out from his mouth. “I’m sure I wouldn’t let that happen with you.”
“Confident. That’s a start.” I already feel the alcohol making its way into my bloodstream, my cheeks growing more and more flushed. But I’ve just had one glass, and I’m not even feeling tipsy.
God, talking to him affects me more than it should.
“But I know what you’re getting at, Tess.” His eyes are locked on mine, and I have to force myself to shift my gaze away. “The trick to something as complex as this lies in the details.”
“Right,” I nod, and now it’s my turn to stare straight back at him. If I want to battle it out with someone like Austin, I can’t act coy. “Size is irrelevant, truth be told. I’ve had my fair share of big projects, and I never gave it a second thought. I rather focus on the...experience.”
“The experience?” He raises one eyebrow, his words almost a whisper, and I can see the corners of his lips softly curling upward.
“Think of something like...leather. Is it pleasant to the touch? When you’re lying on it, does it make you want to stay there forever? How does it make you feel when you close your eyes and feel your naked skin against it?”
This time, he doesn’t reply.
My words just float in the air, right between the two of us, and I feel the tension rising with each tick of the clock. What the hell are we even talking about? Sure as hell isn’t furniture.
“You seem to know a few things about leather,” he says after a bit.
“I’ve forgotten more things about leather than you’ll ever know,” I shoot back.
“Leather is fine, but it’s not everything.” Laughing, he motions the bartender to bring us a refill. “At the end of the day, I prefer to focus on the design. And you’re right, the experience is what really matters.” He makes a slight pause, then swivels his stool around to face me directly. “And I like to create an experience of intimacy.”
“Really?” I smirk. “Because from what I’ve seen of your work, it all seems so...raw.”
“Oh, and I’ve seen your work. It’s all about soft, feminine curves, isn’t? It all seems so...fragile. To really melt into a room, you have to add a certain degree of rawness.”
I swallow hard, trying not to choke on the vodka.
“Those are pretty words, I’ll admit,” I clap my hands softly, mocking him. I fold my legs as I turn to face him, just like he did, and I can’t help but notice the way his eyes immediately dart to the hemline of my dress. “But at the end of the day, your work is too aggressive.”
“I’ve never had a complaint,” he says smugly.
“I’m not complaining,” I show him the palms of my hands, smiling. “After all, I never really tried your furniture.”
“Maybe that should change.” Yup, it’s getting hot in here. I might need to rub the sweat of my glass over the back of my neck in a second, thanks to this conversation. “Maybe you’d find that, after all, you enjoy a certain degree of...how did you put it? Aggressiveness?”
Holy shit, I need to get the hell out of here.
Fast.
Standing up, I try to look as relaxed as possible as I grab my purse from the counter. I take a deep breath, trying to stop all that heat from taking over my body, and finally turn around to meet his gaze.
“I’ll see you around, Austin.”
He just tips his glass at me, that maddening smirk back on his lips.
As I walk toward the exit, my heart kicking and punching against my ribcage, I can still feel his eyes on me, following out.
Holy shit, why is my heart racing like this?
Why am I breathing this hard?
And, Christ, why am I so fucking wet?
Chapter Seven
Austin
“Fuck me,” I say underneath my breath, leaning against the back wall of the elevator.
My dick strains against my pants, feeling as if it’s about to burst, and I grab it, adjusting it to hopefully ease the ache.
It was fucking hard to watch Tess squirm underneath my gaze, see her cheeks blossom into a color more alluring than her body itself, especially as I grilled her about her furniture and teased her about mine. Fuck. It was fun, and it’d make any man explode right then and there.
Luckily, I know how to control myself, even if I’m not used to a woman like her. A woman who knows exactly what she’s doing and who knows how to walk away. From me.
But before I get distracted by her slick tongue and delectable curves, I need to do some work.
We’ve established that we’re the only two people in this competition that really matter. No one has a shot against us, so I need to make it worth her while. Although I know I have this competition in the bag.
Yeah, she might be the fucking Domina Designs, but she isn’t at the level of Oakmont. As she admitted herself, she’s barely had big clients like the Clarendon before, whereas that’s my specialty.
Size doesn’t matter, huh? What woman has said that before and actually believed it? Baby, you can’t tell me you believe in that ‘motion in the ocean’ or ‘all about the experience’ bullshit? We all know it’s not true. Sorry to burst that fairytale bubble for you.
The elevator bell dings as I reach my floor and I walk out towards my door, unlocking it and throwing my keys on the marble counter. I head straight to my bar, needing to dull some of the after-effects of Tess Armstrong.
She might be the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen, with a mouth that makes my dick throb, but she’s also my competition. And, I need to get my head in the game.
I pour a few finger lengths of the whisky into a crystal glass and take a swig before I head to my office. I don’t even switch the light on I’m so focused on getting intel on Tess. More than I already have.
First, I send a few emails to my staff, letting them know what we’re up against and detailing the competition and the stakes of it. Once my team is behind it, I know I’ll be golden.
I might’ve done most of Oakmont’s heavy lifting, but I’m man enough to admit that you don’t get anywhere in life without a team supporting you. And, I have some of the best damn people in the business working for me. That’s the thing, you have to know who you’re working with and what they’re skills are. For instance, if they’re trustworthy, hardworking and actually capable of doing what you tell them to do. Knowing who that is and how to manage them is the work of the best damn CEO in the tri-state area, one with the most successful furniture company in the country. Yep, that’s me, baby. Don’t forget that.
So, maybe it is all because of me.
I am Austin Randall after all.
Once the emails are written and sent out, I settle in on researching Tess Armstrong, taking a sip of my whisky in preparation.
I type in “Domina Designs” on Google, her website being the first to pop up in the search results. I click on it and like I imagined, the site reflects her designs—feminine, soft, fragile. Each border of the box is colored in gold while the background gives off a pink-ish hue.
A color resembling the tone of her face when she’s turned on.
My cock throbs at the memory of her hands twirling her hair off her neck and shoulder, exposing her bare, flush skin to me. I sigh, loudly, and briefly close my eyes.
Fuck me. Calm down, Austin.
I move on, pressing on the menu item labeled, “clients.”
A see a few recognizable businesses: Cosmopolitan, MAC Cosmetics, Tiffany’s. All of which makes sense seeing as her pieces align with the business model and clientele they cater to.
Ok, so she’s niche but she’s also smart. She’s working her angle and with the clients that both seek out and fit her aesthetic. And I’ll hand it to her, these clients aren’t too shabby.
I press on Tiffany’s link to peruse the images and pieces she designed for them.
Holy shit.
I didn’t expect that.
Not only are he
r pieces shown in impeccable lighting, but they capture her working with the materials from start to finish. That’s fucking impressive. She’s gorgeous, smart, and knows how to use a toolbox.
A fucking dream woman.
In one picture, she’s bent over assembling a pink chaise lounge chair, stitching the hem of the velvet fabric together.
I zoom in, admiring the way her body is positioned. The simple jeans and t-shirt she’s wearing hugs her curves in a way I didn’t know was possible. I thought the dress she was wearing tonight captured my attention, but even in this simple attire, I find myself aching to touch her.
My dick pulsates, adopting its own rhythmic heartbeat. And I take a hardy gulp of my whisky, needing to distract myself from her and that impeccable body.
I press on another file of hers, a showcase of some sort, and a slideshow pops up. I hit the next arrow to move through the pictures and because I can’t help myself, I’m glued to how her body floats through a room, positioning herself from one piece to the next.
Each of the designs are similar but the architecture differs slightly, the curves of each piece are either soft and delicate or sharp and pointed. It’s fitting, really, it matches her personality to a tee. She has a softness to her that’s only detectable when you push hard enough. I’m learning that’s all you have to do with her, you have to work around the hard-edged persona she puts on—that is, if she allows you to.
But come one, it’s me. It’ll only be a matter of time before I get her permission.
I continue to study her designs, but I keep finding my eyes lingering over her frame and not the furniture.
I admit, I’m impressed with her pieces. She has a flair about her that I know is desirable to many clients, like the bigger clients she’s worked with. But I can’t keep looking away from her and remembering how she adjusted her ass in the seat across from me.
Fuck it.
I’m not going to be able to sleep if I don’t get rid of this fucking aching rod in my pants. I’m surprised it hasn’t shot off into space already given the torture I’ve put it through tonight.