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“This problem got a name?”
“Bronn Lichtenfeld.”
Fuck.
Chapter Eighteen
Zoey
The insistent buzzing of my cell drags me rudely into wakefulness. I grab it from the coffee table and burrow down beneath the throw. “Hello?”
“Babe, it’s me.”
It takes me an embarrassingly long time to place the voice. “Who?” I sit up slowly and push my hair from my face. “Bronn?”
“We should catch up.”
“After how many years?” I couldn’t sleep last night and ended up baking until four a.m. So I’m not in the mood.
For a moment he doesn’t answer, and then he says, “Is the flame still burning for old Bronn?”
Good God, talk about inexplicable choices. “No flame,” I say to him. “Just tired, and you’re the last person I expected to hear from. And I don’t have time to—”
“We’ll cut to the chase. I hear Sinclair’s sniffing around and you haven’t sold. I want to make an offer…”
Where Bronn made me annoyed, Magnus makes me melt. I know I should have pushed to see if my college ex had any dirt on Edward Sinclair, but what am I going to do with it? Pot plants?
Even if these high-powered bullies all play nasty games, and play them sloppily, that’s not me.
I don’t have a chance down in the muck, even if I wanted to, and the muck isn’t okay. Sinking to other people’s low bars is wrong. And…I’m not playing games.
Besides, a guy like Bronn isn’t going to give me anything. That’s not out of intelligence, although I know he isn’t stupid. It’s out of his greed and his self-satisfaction with being born into the right family. I imagine Edward Sinclair is exactly the same. They just both want.
They’re shallow, egotistical assholes. They think about their ambitions, making money, power, and Magnus… He gave up his career—or put it on hold—for his gran. He lost his job because to take the promotion, to work in the arena he’s trained in, he knew he wouldn’t have the room to do what he considers right.
He’s layered and complex and a man who, I think, can see past the almighty dollar.
Because why else would he be here? In my store?
The ease, yes, the freedom, definitely, but there are other jobs to make him money. He chose having the time to flex so he could spend it with his gran, to keep an eye on her. That’s depth.
And me? I’m exactly where I was, still trying to keep my home and business from falling into callous, moneyed hands.
The bell dings and the man who makes me melt walks in. There’s no one else here as I’ve just opened, but his smile when his eyes meet mine makes my heart sing all kinds of songs that it shouldn’t.
After Bronn’s call, it hit me that I haven’t had a visit from anyone to do with Sinclair since the whole power outage and the street work. I’d love to say they must have changed their minds, but I know they haven’t. Life doesn’t work that way and I’m waiting.
“You look both tired and preoccupied.”
I shake my head. “That’s no way to talk to women.” I duck behind the counter and give him a cookie I know he’s not going to eat. It’s cranberry, white chocolate, and dark sugared pecans today. Then I set about making coffee.
“Beautiful is a given.”
I slide him a look, even as warmth spreads through me. It might be a terrible line said as a joke but I’ll take it. “Don’t push it.”
He comes up and leans over the counter as I set his espresso down. Magnus shifts it out of the way and takes my hands, his onyx eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles. “You are, you know. Beautiful. Inside and out.”
He sucks in a breath and straightens, letting me go and fussing with his caffeine fix. His words make me reel and I stir in sugar after sugar into mine.
