Page 47 of Off the Grid

“Ah, but there is.”

“How so?”

What’s going to break through that goddamn armor of hers and make her relax? Ah. Perfect. “You were thinking about how bad you want to kiss me again.”

She scoffs. “I do not.”

“No?” I ask, loving getting a reaction out of her.

“No.”

“So authoritative,” I tease. “Not even just a little bit?”

“This conversation is ridiculous.” She huffs and moves to a different part of the room.

I make myself the mirror image of her. “How were you wanting this conversation to go? Did you want me to question your abilities? Ask to see your marketing credentials to make sure you know how to handle me?” I wink. “Ask if you’re only here because of your name and not your skill set? Is that the argument you wanted?”

Her only response is to cross her arms and purse her lips. If looks could kill, I’d be a goner.

“Or were you hoping for the grovel? I bet you like a good grovel. Particularly from a man. Does it make you feel powerful? In charge? Is that your thing?”

Her expression remains impassive, her body posture stern.

“If it is, what were you thinking? That I’d beg you for forgiveness for the dare card? For the kiss you initiated that we both can admit was pretty damn fantastic? How would that go? Me on my knees? Me showering you with gifts? Ah, I know. Me winning a race and dedicating it to you, right?”

There is a glimmer of a smile. Perfect. It’s working.

“You do know you just tried to pay me off downstairs, right?”

“She speaks!” I throw my hands up and flash her a smile. And then I cross my arms seconds after she does. Her sigh is everything. “And of course, I tried to buy you off. Anything for the good of the company, though, right? You need your driver in good standing with everyone. Especially the people who make this whole world go round.” I shrug. “And here I am.”

She rolls her eyes. “You think this is going to fly? This whole holier-than-thou schtick you’ve got going for you?”

“Schtick?” I bat my eyes innocently.

“You forget that I have a partial hold on the keys to your success.”

“Ohhh. She’s playing hardball now. I’ve got to tell you, Moretti, a strong female is one of those turn-ons for me. Like, I love a woman who can handle herself. So you’ve been warned.”

“Warned?” Another struggle to deny her smile.

I hiss out an exaggerated breath. “Yeah. We’re talking googly-eyes and stuttered words. Weak knees and demands to get in my—never mind. I can’t say that here.” I give a dramatic look around. “That’s not politically correct enough.”

“I don’t really think you care what’s politically correct.”

“But out of everything, that’s what you’re the most pissed off about. My attempt to bribe you in the break room?”

“No.” Her mouth goes in a straight line but her eyes—God, those gorgeous fucking eyes—light up with humor.

“Oh, you were thinking about how incredibly hard it’s going to be to market me. I’m demanding. So fucking demanding. Viral when I need to be viral, but that makes it difficult when I have a fucking clusterfuck of a history with a self-destruct label attached. A Riggs in every sense of the word. Just like his dad. Then again, let’s hope not or you won’t have a racer to market, right?”

I’m on such a roll that I don’t even think about the words I say, but her lips shock open, telling me she has no clue about my dad. The softening of her eyes even more so.

I don’t want pity. I don’t fucking need it. What was just fun and games and banter suddenly became so much more.

“Riggs?”

“Nope. None of that.” I shake my head, immediately rejecting the compassion in her voice. “Because you know exactly how I feel. Two offspring fighting to make their own names and prove the privilege that came with it doesn’t factor in. Yours is an attribute. Mine is a detriment.”