AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No. I just have to do it. Any way, any means.” Fuck, I’m going to have to say it. “I can’t do it on my own.”
And then she does something I don’t think a woman’s ever done.
She turns me down.
Cold.
Chapter Two
Elliot
The look on his face when I say no is a photo worthy moment.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a simple, yet important word. No. I’ve got better things to do than hold the hand of a billionaire.”
“You helped Chris Leone! You got him elected.” He gives me a thoughtful look, at odds with his outraged tone.
Yes, I did. Long ago, and that bastard, one of the people I built my reputation on by being invisible, powerful, and able to deliver the undeliverable, haunts me.
“Look—”
“It’s four weeks. Four weeks. For a family company. A necklace. They mean something to me. I’m not changing the world. I’m not trying to bring it down.”
My mouth is dry.
I can’t work for Ryder Sinclair.
What sane, living, breathing heterosexual woman with no chance in hell—not that I want a chance—would?
His photos don’t do him justice. In those, he’s gorgeous, charismatic; I know, because the media loves him. Rich and hot and a bad boy.
But what they don’t capture is the fact he’s devastating. The height; I’m tall enough at five eleven, and he’s about six three; the lean, hard lines of him; the elegance: those are more pronounced.
Beyond that, he’s arresting. Thick, softly curling charcoal hair that borders on too long, but perfect for sliding fingers into while kissing or during sex. Dark chocolate melting eyes that hold a wicked light, a sensuous mouth that looks made to kiss and do other things to a woman that should be illegal but thank goodness aren’t. And he’s hard, dangerous, and decadent. They shouldn’t exist together, but they do, and the combination is irresistible.
There’s absolutely no way I can work with him.
Normally, men like him don’t even get more than a blip on my radar, but he makes it go haywire. He’s too good looking, too aware of that, and he exudes sex. Not smarm, but that animalistic undercurrent that’s just him. And he looks at you.
Like he sees you.
Like you’re important.
I know it’s one of his moves. A man like that never notices a woman like me. That’s not insecurity, that’s experience.
I’m tall and red-headed and people don’t notice me. That’s fine, it suits my business down to the ground. I know it’s some kind of feat to be tall with this hair and still go about unnoticed. Call it a miracle of the world.
And he…
Yeah, he’s the quintessential bad boy rich guy. Spoiled, and thinks he can do whatever he wants. Actually, I take that back. He can do anything he wants; he’s so loaded it’s almost unbelievable and I’m not hurting at all.
“I don’t really care,” I say. I get up and walk around the desk, aware his gaze eats into my every move. Jesus, does every woman who crosses his path feel like this? I’m betting it’s a yes, and that includes grandmothers and the happily relationshipped. I take a seat and settle back, keeping my game face switched on with added defenses.
“I’m not asking you to care.”
“You’re asking me to do a job I don’t want to do.”
