“And being accosted in a parking lot by a hysterical woman—”
She leans onto her heels, arms crossing over her chest. “‘Hysterical woman,’” she repeats with a scoff.
“—tends to get a person’s hackles up.”
“Your ‘hackles,’” she repeats my words again, a tinge of smugness in her tone. Unlike me, Isla isn’t struggling with the situation. She looks right at home in my office, in her distractingly form-fitting black leggings and tight blue tank top, matching me barb for barb. “Right. Well, the problem with your little complaint is that I was the one accosted.”
“I’ve already said I’ll pay for the damage. The barely noticeable scuff on your door will be all patched up in no time. You need to move on.”
“That wasn’t a scuff, and you know it.”
I tip forward in my chair, forearms pushing onto my desk. “Arguing with you isn’t how I plan to spend my days, so if you’re going to work for me, you’re going to have to get over this.”
“I wouldn’t beworkingfor you. You’d be contracting with me.”
My eyes narrow. “Same difference. You would answer to me.”
“But you wouldn’t be my boss,” she contends. “You’d be my client.”
I lean back in my chair, hands going behind my head, elbows out to the side. “And the client is always right.”
“That’s the customer.”
“Same difference,” I grit out. “This is my business, so anything that happens in this building has to go through me first. Call me a client, a boss, whatever…it doesn’t change that you would answer to meif you were to be giving figure skating lessons in the building I own for the business I founded.”
Isla’s jaw tightens, and she trains her furious blue eyes on me. The color reminds me of the hottest part of a flame.
I know from experience that not taking a hard line with staff and addressing issues head-on leads to more long-term pain. I don’t have space to take on any additional amount of it.
“Is working here something you still want to do?”
The length of her pause speaks volumes. Eventually, she replies with a simple, “Yes,” like it’s all she could manage to say that wouldn’t send us careening toward a fight.
“Okay.” I gesture to the seat in front of me. “How about you sit and we figure out the specifics?”
“I’m good.” She shrugs, remaining stubbornly planted in her current position. After hours of working out, her legs must burn, and still, she won’t sit because I asked. “And I have some conditions.”
This fucking woman. Conditions for a job that I wasn’t hiring for? My brother has pulled some shit through the years, but bringing Isla fucking Covington into our lives takes the cake.
“Like what?”
She sashays to one of the chairs and sinks onto it, crossing one leg over the other. Every movement screams of self-satisfaction. “I want to do my bookings. Screen the clients. Set the schedule. And then refer them over to you to make it official. This will make sure that nothing gets scheduled when I’m unavailable and that you don’t book clients that won’t work out.”
Her suggestion would result in less work for me. Between the business, my niece, and the frequent visits to my aging father’s home, I don’t have room for more. But if I give in without a fight, she’ll think she bested me, that she has more power in this situation, and I cannot let that stand.
“I’ll need the notes from your assessment of the customer before you schedule anyone, and I have a right of refusal.”
“Fine.” She rises from her seat, ready to be done with me like I am with her. Anger burns in my gut as she approaches my office door, taking control over the end of this conversation. Putting me in my place with an ease that I’d find impressive if it wasn’t so infuriating.
“If this arrangement causes any issues, I’ll end it,” I tell her. “I can’t add any more stress to my life.” Isla’s scrutinizing expression sends more words stumbling out of my mouth to make her forget my last ones. “You can email me or text me. I don’t talk on the phone.”
I don’t like the half-amused smile on her face, a signal that she knows I’m crumbling before her.
I hold my business card out to her. “Don’t bother me unless you have to.”
She strides toward me and reaches over the desk to snatch the card from my hand. Close like this, I admire a freckle on her bottom lip.Was that there before?
I turn away from her, too worried about getting caught studying her mouth. But I can’t stop myself from watching when I hear the sound of her footfalls retreating from me.
