For a hefty additional price.
Just the thought of what he could expect was abominable.
No. The scruples would stand, even if it meant eating ramen noodles for the next six months.
She cringed visibly, which caught my eye. “What?” My demand was a little strong.
“Well, you see…” The words faded as she glanced quickly over her shoulder at the closed door.
I followed her line of sight and exhaled. “Let me guess. He refused to take no for an answer.”
“Well, he just kind of showed up demanding to talk to you. I tried to get him to leave, but he isn’t budging. I don’t know what to do.” Now she was whispering.
After I stood, I threw out my hands. “No need. I’ll handle this. I’ve eaten men like him for breakfast.” I smoothed back my unwieldly strands of hair I’d been tugging and twirling around my finger all morning, rubbed my hands down my wrinkled skirt, and headed for the door with my head held high. The man was going to get a piece of my mind.
I threw open the door, taking long strides into the waiting room directly outside. A tall man stood with his back to me, staring at a shitty piece of art I’d purchased at a yard sale years before. I was certain he was criticizing my choice and tastes.
For some sick reason, I was curious if he’d remember me.
“Mr. Elliot.” I was proud of myself; my voice was strong and firm, even and devoid of emotion.
He slowly turned around and I was forced to tip my head to look him in the eyes.
Holy shit. The years had been good to him.
Too good.
He was every woman’s fantasy on steroids and at that moment, that very awkward moment, I could see him fitting the sugar daddy mold.
Whoa. Hold on.
He wasn’t smirking or leering.
Just looking as annoyed as I remembered.
I was tall for a woman, but he was… huge. Much larger than I remembered. Or maybe I’d done my best to mentally emasculate him after the interview.
Broad shoulders filled out a perfectly tailored suit jacket, the form-fitting cut accentuating his muscular, long arms. The dark suit was in direct contrast to the crisp white shirt and vivid cobalt tie bringing out the ice blue coloration in his eyes.
Ice blue.
Another sugar daddy moment.
His features were chiseled, his jaw seemingly cut from stone and his thick, wavy hair highlighted his aristocratic bones. There were reasons he was considered the hottest looking man on the East Coast. Damn it.
But I could feel the electric buzz of superiority from where I stood, the crackling effect enough to create prickles down both arms.
He eyed me auspiciously, allowing his heated gaze to fall to my flat shoes. Why had I foregone my usual signature black heels?
While there was obvious initial disdain, there was not a single hint of recognition in his eyes. I could be one of a billion people.
Score another asshole point.
He stood still, watching me.
His silence was unnerving.
Air crackled.
