Summer I walk out of the elevator. This time, the trip had been accomplished mercifully alone, thank you very
much. I get off on the ‘Asshole’ floor then move forward to the conference room at the very end, as directed by the
second rec eptionist.
She'd cautioned me that Mr. Sterling hates to be k ept waiting.
What a surprise, huh?
I glance past the doors that open off the corridor. The entire floor is hushed. The faint scent of leather and cigar
smoke clings to the walls. The place smells like the inside of an old boy’s club.
Figures. Of course, alpha asshole is a chauvinist.
Probably went to boarding school with other rich toffs, all of whom are now top politicians and captains of
industry. Bet he could call up anyone to get a favor done for his company. That’s how he’d established his
company so quickly. Okay, maybe that was uncharitable. By all
accounts, 7 A had been set up by him and his partners and they’d built it up from scratch.
Though Sterling is in charge of the marketing, which is why I am meeting him. Just my luck. My shoulders droop
as I approach the massive double doors of the conference room. Ornate woodwork laces the frame. There’s a
knocker with a lion’s head on it in place of the handle. I blink. My fingers twitch. Before I can stop myself, I’ve
grabbed the knocker. Slam it down, do it. Not as if you’re going to get the account so why ke ep the pretense up,
eh?
For Karma, yeah. Okay. Do it for Karma. She deserves you giving this your best shot. I push open the door and
enter.
A rectangular glass table stretches the length of the room. There are at least ten chairs clustered around it. One wall
is taken up by a white projection screen.
I walk around, until I am facing the table. I have a Power Point on my laptop. Which means I have to plug in my
computer, or plug in my usb fob with the deck. Should have taken a print-out, but there hadn't been enough time.
Okay, don’t panic. De ep breath. You can do this.
I drop my tote bag onto the table, pull out my fob, and pivot to face the screen. I spot the console to the side, and
walk up to it... How the hell does it open? I press down on the surface. Nothing. To the right... left... What the—?
The hair on the nape of my neck rises.
"You won't need that."
A shiver runs down my back. I’d known it was him seconds before he had spoken.
"Of course, I will." I continue to flutter my fingers over the console, and it slides back. Whew!
I shove my fob into position, then straighten. His scent envelops me. Bergamot and fresh cut grass, saturated with
testosterone. I gulp, walk toward the table.
He clicks his tongue. "You’re going in the wrong direction."
I whip around, and he drums his fingers on his massive chest.
"I don’t have much time."
I swallow. Of course. He is the client; this is his office.
He knows where everything is.
"Fine." I round the table, drop into a chair.
"Didn’t give you permission to sit."
I stiffen. "Controlling much?"
He drums his fingers on his chest, "I can't tolerate childish tantrums. Clearly, you don’t have what it takes to
manage our account." He pivots on his heels, heads for the door.
In that moment, I have never hated anyone more.
Superior jackass with a God complex. If I didn’t need his business desperately, I’d have told him that to his face,
too.
"Wait."
He ke eps going.
"Hold on, please."
He opens the door.
"Look, I'm sorry. I apologize. I shouldn't have said that."
"Too little, too late." He glares at me, "You should have thought of that before you directly contradicted me."
The blood fades from my cheeks. What am I doing here trying to negotiate with a man who has clearly lost touch
with reality so much that he doesn’t see anything exc ept the tip of his own nose? His strong patrician nose that
hooks above a square jaw and hints at the strength of his obstinacy. A strong will that could crush me if I let it.
If you give in now, you are going to regret it.
I need his business, and if I show my desperation, I can kiss any hope of gaining his account goodbye. No, it is
time to change course. To hold my own, to fight him at his own game, with his own tactics. Say something,
anything, to ke ep him here. I gulp, then toss my head, "Fine, leave then."
He frowns.
"But you’ll never hear about how I was going to put myself at your disposal twenty-four-seven."