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This is the prequel to The Proposal by L. Steele
Isla
"Would it hurt your face to smile a little, Jerkface?" I mutter under my breath.
"What was that?" Liam-pain-in-the-wrong-place’-Kincaid, my six-feet-four-inch nemesis with gray eyes so cold, he could freeze lava with a glance, growls.
Ugh. Of course, he caught that. Man might as well have the hearing of a snake. He’s as slippery as one, too. It was impossible to get this meeting with him. I’ve been chasing him for the last month to get a date on his calendar. You’d think the man didn’t want to get married. In all honesty, I have nothing but sympathy for the woman he’s marrying. Lila is my client. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met and we’ve become friends over the course of planning her wedding.
It’s one reason I’m staying on as her wedding planner, even though her husband-to-be is ghastly to work with. Liam-twat-arse-Kincaid is also one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. For reasons that are beyond me. Surely, money isn't the most important thing in the world?
Then there’s the fact that organizing this wedding is sure to catapult my little wedding planning outfit into one of the most desirable ones to work with in society. And given Liam is the one paying for it, I have no choice but to put up with this man’s growling one-word answers. If only that delicious scent of his did not affect my insides. Bergamot and mint, and something musky. Why does he have to smell so delicious? Good thing I took an instant dislike toward him the moment I met him.
His larger-than-life charisma, which makes him occupy any room he walks into like he owns it, rubs me the wrong way. That must be why I’m so aware of him. It has nothing to do with his commanding height, his thick, jet-black hair, which is so dark it’s almost blue, those high cheekbones you'd expect to find on a supermodel, or that jut of his jawline hinting at his stubborn nature. He’d have to be that, and more, to run an empire the size he’s built since he took over running the company from his father.
The business media refers to Liam as a shark, and as he eyes me with a look that is equal parts bored and flinty, I can imagine him walking into a meeting and chewing out the opposition.
Good thing, I’m made of sterner stuff.
I'm here to present my case and get him to sign off on the budget for the wedding. It’s part of my duties as a wedding planner. Lila was supposed to join us for this meeting but couldn’t make it at the last moment. So here I am, facing down this hotter-than-Hades, yet as bad tempered as a bear woken up from hibernation with a sore head, man, who’s glaring at me like he wants to burn me to ashes with the anger simmering in his eyes.
What is he so pissed off about? Not that it’s my business. I need him to approve the figure I can spend on this wedding. That’s all. I came in, all fired up about the project, and now… I wonder if I made a mistake taking this In.I can do this. I can. I must.So, I square my shoulders, and though my insides quake under the intensity of his gaze, I don’t look away.
"I meant, have you had a chance to look at the proposal I sent you?" I paste a fake smile on my face. It’s either that or grimace. And that’s not going to help my case. I can hold a civilized conversation with this man, can’t I?
"No." He scowls, then glances down at his phone.
My jaw drops. He’s so rude. I’ve never met anyone as insufferable as this man. And to think, Lila wants to marry this man. Jeez. How is my sweet friend going to cope?
I stare at him, but he doesn’t bother to glance up. He continues to read whatever is on his screen like I’m not sitting in front of him, in his office.Grr!Sparks of anger zip up my spine. My muscles tense up.How dare he ignore me?When he begins to tap out something on his phone, the sparks explode in my head. I jump up, reach over, and grab his phone.
For a few seconds, he doesn’t move. When he raises his gaze to look at me, the coldness in those gray eyes of his chills me to the bone. Unusual eyes. A mixture of blue, green and silver in color, they’re hypnotic in their perusal.
If he looked pissed off, it'd be okay. But the fact that those silver flecked eyes have turned more slate in color, and are devoid of any emotion, propels a flurry of disquiet under my skin.
He holds out his palm. I glance at his outstretched hand, so tempted to slap the phone into it, but I don’t have the guts to do so. Sadly, I’m a wuss. I’ve already pushed the boundaries by snatching the phone from him. I can’t worsen things.
"Sorry," I say halfheartedly and slip the phone onto his palm. My fingertips brush his skin. An electric current zips out from the point of contact.Huh?I retrieve my hand and sit down in my seat with a thump. At least, I have his attention. Is that good or bad? He continues to glare at me like I’ve taken his favorite dessert from him and eaten it. Although, I doubt he likes anything sweet. The man looks like he chews nails for breakfast…and lunch…and dinner. Too bad that tall, dark and growly air he has going on is also unfathomably sexy.Ugh.
Our eyes clash. The air between us heats with something like…chemistry? Nah. Not possible. There can’t be any kind of connection between me and this… This…unfeeling douchebag. And if I’m aware of him as a man, it’s only because the guy takes gorgeousness to an entirely new height. I’d have to be blind not to notice how commanding he is. How he dominates any interaction with him. How the tension in his body hints at the seething emotions he hides underneath that glacier-like exterior and—Hold on. What am I thinking?I corral my errant thoughts and compose my features into what I hope is more of a polite smile than a grimace. Then I pull my tablet out of my satchel and slide it across his desk. "Knowing you might be too busy to see the proposal I emailed over, I have it here for your perusal."
He sets aside his phone—score!—and glances at the tablet. He swipes up the screen, scrolling until he reaches the end of the document. Of course, he’d go directly to the bottom line. And of course, I feel the need to defend it.
"The figure is justified. Lila wants the best venue in the city. She wants to invite the whole of society. And then, there’s the decor, the catering, the PR arrangements, the dress, the?—"
"That’s fine." He slides the tablet back at me.
"What do you mean?" I blink slowly. There was a high seven-figure at the bottom of that column. "Surely, you want to know its breakdown? The biggest portion of it goes toward..."
"No." He picks up his phone again and begins to scrutinize the screen. The device looks small in his big hand, with those long, thick fingers and blunt nails?—
Whoa, stop it.I refocus my attention on his face. "What do you mean, no? You?—"
"It’s good to go. Your bank details are in the email you sent me, the money will be wired to you."
"The entire amount?” I gape at him. It’s a big sum of money. And it includes a twenty-five percent commission for my company, which is a lot of money. More than I’ve made since I started this endeavor. "Don’t you want to know how the money’s going to be spent?" I choke out.
