"I know everything." He grins.
I glance at the rounded logs in the ceiling.
"Don't worry, you'll get your money's worth for the work you put in. Besides, I heard he owes you quite a bit from last night."
I rise and put my hand on my hip, attempting one final time to get out of this. "This isn't okay, Jax. There are a dozen other people who could be his agent. You already said you know… Well, you know that we have a past. Please, I don't want to work with him."
Jax replies, "Which is why you deserve to make money off of him."
"I don't want to make money off of him," I claim.
Jax shrugs. "Sorry, I do, and you're going to help me. Now, is there anything else we need to talk about?" He gives me a this-conversation-is-over look.
My insides quiver. I cave, realizing there's nothing else I can say. I push the chair in and leave the house without another word. The cold air hits me in the face, slapping me several times until I get to the car.
Wyatt's in the driver's seat.
I open the passenger door since it's the closest. "Get out of the car, I'm driving."
He barks, "No, I am. So get in, or I'll leave you here with him." He turns on the engine.
Infuriated, I slide into the seat and slam the door. "This is my car. You don't have the right to make decisions on whether I'm driving or not."
He reaches over me to grab my seat belt, and his familiar scent flares around me.
I push at him. "What are you doing?"
He turns his face and slides his hands over my waist with the seat belt.
I stiffen, holding my breath.
The click of the buckle is loud in the otherwise quiet car.
His breath hits mine, his lips an inch from my mouth. "Did you convince him that this isn't happening, sugar?"
My pulse skyrockets. Tingles race down my back.
I spout, "What do you think?"
Disappointment fills Wyatt's face. He leans back and shakes his head. "I don't know what the old man's thinking."
"What happened the last time you saw him?" I demand.
Wyatt shifts into drive and accelerates down the driveway. "A lot of stuff that shouldn't have."
"Like what?"
"I told you before, Willow, I'm not going to talk about it." He squeezes the steering wheel as he passes the gate.
"I have a right to know," I claim.
He grunts. "Yeah? What gives you that right?"
"The fact that I'm your agent now."
He glances at me. "I haven't agreed to let you be my agent."
I sarcastically laugh. "One, I don't want to be your agent. Two, we have no choice unless you die or a bull paralyzes you. So unless one of those two things happens, I'm pretty sure I have to represent you, even though I'd rather crawl into a grave and let them pour dirt on me."
