But no, I was frustrated over whether to accept the job with Mr. Asshole, even going so far as to begin creating a qualified list of candidates from the models and actresses on the roster. Why? What point could it serve? I could swear the man had a hidden agenda or an ulterior motive.
Maybe I should be beating my head against the wall instead.
“Then you decided to accept Mr. Elliot’s offer. Yes?”
God, she sounded so hopeful. “Not yet. Maybe never.”
“Is that why I’m here so I can talk you into accepting?”
“Yes. Maybe. No. Hell, I’m not sure.” I handed her a glass of wine as I fumed. After taking a gulp, then another, I grabbed two spoons and some napkins.
“You’ve never been this indecisive. Okay, we’ll go over your concerns. Again.”
“Follow me. Grab the wine.” I gathered the bags and cartons of treats, cradling them gently against my chest. If I dropped and crushed the chips or the cookies, I’d likely go ballistic.
Unable to get his face out of my crazed mind, I stormed toward the den that also served as my makeshift office. I’d cleared off the coffee table so I could work on my laptop. I positioned the goodies, keeping the items neat as I usually did with everything before plopping down on one of the pillows I’d dragged from the couch.
Amelia snagged the other, shaking her head as she sat down. “Come on, girl. What happened yesterday? You’re not only flustered, you’re glowing.”
Oh, fuck. I slapped my hand against my cheek. She was right. My skin was hot to the touch.
“Christian took me around the city, showing me all his new properties. They’d all been renamed, the old employees tossed out and new, less expensive employees hired.”
“That was it? That’s what you expected.”
Snorting, I ripped open the lids from both cartons of ice cream, jamming a spoon in each. “No, he showed me this bizarre community he built close to the heart of South Beach.”
“Residential?”
“Yes, which caught me by surprise. I read in one of the glitzy magazine articles he’s bringing in some foreign hotel chains, but this place was designed as affordable housing.”
“Wow. He wanted to show you that he’s not such a bad guy. Pretty awesome if you ask me.”
“Yeah, but did he think I was buying the goody two shoes spiel? I’m certain he’s getting a lot of tax breaks.”
“Maybe, but maybe he has a reason for the development. What’s the name of it?”
“Caroline Manor or something. The name isn’t marketable, which I find fascinating since he has his own marketing department and works with the most well-respected marketing firm on the East Coast.”
“That makes it sound more personal,” she suggested, giving me an evil eye.
I thought about the name of the boat. “Maybe.” When a huge scoop of ice cream on my spoon, I waited for Amelia to do the same. We clinked the cheap metal and she gave me a funny look before we both gobbled the frozen cream.
Pure decadence on a spoon.
“Ouch. Gets me every time,” Amelia whined and pressed her hand to her head.
“Brain freeze.” We both laughed and it was good to do so after berating myself for the entire day.
“So what’s the holdup and we’re not going back to his arrogance again. We’ve beat the dead horse more than once. I know you don’t like him and my guess is that Mr. Elliot isn’t thrilled that you’re a tough lady, but business is business.”
“He’s not all bad. At least not completely.” My admittance was tougher than it should be.
“Oh,” she almost purred as she pressed her hand against her chest, pulling back and scrunching her face. “Perhaps the ice queen is melting.”
Given her ‘Wicked Witch of the West’ voice, I snarled in response. “I guess everyone has two sides. Although I’ll still stand behind my thoughts. I think he’s an evil bastard.”
“Okay. Why? Confess or I’m going to email him as you, telling him you’d like to go on a date with him.”
