“See you at five, smart ass.”
CHERYL
Nick was right, I do love his directness and his brain, along with another part of his anatomy, but we are both strong-willed personalities, or as Izzy says, “alpha dogs.” The past molded us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t bend, which made Nick’s call special. Him trying to smooth things over calms me because, when things aren’t right with us, I feel out of sync, off-kilter.
I weave my way into my reserved parking spot, then turn off the ignition and get out of the car. Normally, I let theattendant park it, but the valet line was ridiculously long, and I have a lot to do today.
“Surprised to see me?” Graham rounds the rear of my car, then stops only a few feet in front of me. My natural street smarts tell me he’s way too close for comfort.
“Yes.” I force a smile. Never let them see you sweat.
“I sensed your hesitation yesterday about going with my company.”
I discreetly put some distance between us. Or as much as I could being sandwiched between two cars.
“Not at all. If you have the proposal worked up, we can head up to my office and take a look at it.” I make a move to go around him, and he moves with me.
“The proposal I have is different than what we discussed.”
“As I told you yesterday, dinner is out of the question, and I conduct all business in my office.” I square my shoulders. “Not in a restaurant or a parking garage.”
The same smarmy smile covers his arrogant face. “I don’t think you would want me to discuss what I have to say in your office.”
I’ve come up against all types in my thirty years, but Graham Pierce makes my skin itch. His intense gaze is meant to intimidate, but I refuse to lower my eyes. With me standing five-foot-six and wearing two-inch heels, he’s not that much taller than me, and I have defense skills I’m sure he’d never suspect.
“I’m very busy, so if you have something to say, just spit it out.”
“There’s that Brooklyn girl. I knew she was hiding somewhere under all that Chanel and Dior.”
Creepy since I was wearing a Chanel blouse with a fitted skirt, and carrying a Dior purse without any visible markings.
“But you’re right, I’ll get to the point.” He flicks his gaze to the ceiling and then back to me. “I had a meeting with Nick yesterday, and although he seems on board, his partner Samson is a bit hesitant.”
“What Nick and Samson do at Wicked has nothing to do with me.”
“Mmmm, I’m not so sure about that.”
“Cut the bullshit, or I’ll show you what a Brooklyn girl does when she’s pissed off.”
“Ahhh, priceless.” The bastard laughs. Right in my face. “I love your energy.”
I narrow my eyes as a vision of me nailing his little dick with my Louboutins takes shape.
“Here’s the thing. I want your account, and I want you to make sure I get Club Wicked’s account too.”
“I wouldn’t do business with you now if you gave your services away for free, and I just told you, I have nothing to do with what Nick does at Wicked.”
“Even if your dirty past is dug up and appears online or in theReview Journal?”
“What are you talking about?” My heart speeds up at what I know will be his next words.
“You’ve been very busy the last ten years, taking care of your child, starting a business, and a murdering some lowlife in a rundown apartment off Sunset Strip.”
I slowly draw in a breath. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” When cornered, bluff and deny.
“Let me refresh your memory. A pimp was apparently attacking your now partner, Isabel Torres, and you came to her rescue?”
“That was a long time ago.”
