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He leaned forward, planting his hands on his knees. It could have been a powerful posture, but it stank of insecurity, forced and unnatural. “Listen, I think I know Cameron better than you do. She knows how to convince people—and herself—that she wants something. But I know her. And I know she doesn’t want this.”
I frowned, looking through my tablet, scanning nothing, making a show of looking like I was taking his concerns seriously. “Well, you certainly are close,” I said. “I heard you had a destination wedding? Where was it?”
He gave me a wary smile, forced and twitching in one corner. “France. Provence. It’s where her family is from.”
Fucker getting to marry her in French lavender fields. No idea where that kind of reaction had come from. I pushed the thought down and made myself smile. I knew it was forced, but he wouldn’t notice, just worrying if I noticed him forcing a smile. “That sounds gorgeous. I assure you I want her to have the right space for her. Have you talked to her about this?”
I might as well have put a pin in the guy’s ass. His whole demeanor shifted, suddenly on the defensive, and he moved to sit differently, tugging at the cuff of one sleeve. “Of course. But she gets this… this kind of thing into her head. Listen—I’m not a controlling person. I just know she gets carried away. I care for her. I want to help.”
“I’ll talk to her about this, then.” I was able to give him a more sincere smile, one to defuse the pain point I’d just jabbed. “Thanks for letting me know how you’re feeling. You can keep in touch with my office anytime you want to send any further developments my way.”
He studied me a while longer before he narrowed his eyes, and something lurched in my stomach at the reversal—his whole posture changing, the artificial look dropped from his face, and his jaw set differently. “What have you and Cameron been doing?”
And here was the switch. Poor Cameron had probably gotten so used to it she didn’t even register it as something to worry about. I met the challenging posture, leaning forward, folding my arms on the desk. “We’ve been touring properties, Mister Farmer. The regular approach we use for all our clients. I’m not pushing anything on her. I understand your concern, but you don’t need to judge our methods without having seen them.”
He scowled. The deflection didn’t work. “You’re her agent? Do you go with her alone to the properties?”
“María Gonzalez, my boss, has accompanied me too. She’s also trained in sensitively approaching clients and not using any heavy-handed methods.”
He stood up, and he took two solid strides over to the desk. My heart suddenly hammering, I tapped my phone under the desk, calling Ruth and immediately cancelling the call. Kevin put his hands down on the desk, leaning towards me.
“What did you say your name was?” he said. I smiled lightly, gesturing to the plaque.
“London Sinclair. Please, just call me London, though.”
“London. Huh. Yeah. I’ll remember that.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, London.”
I was a calm, level-headed person, and I never lost control of what I was saying in a negotiation. There was a reason I was good at what I did. So I didn’t recognize the sudden spike of burning-hot anger, and I was caught off-guard when I heard myself saying, in that perfect little angel voice I brought to my negotiations, “Don’t throw away anything you want to keep, Kevin.”
His eyes flared. My heart hammered, but hell, I didn’t even regret saying it. I didn’t care how unreasonable it was. I wanted the man to try throwing a punch just so I could have him dragged out—maybe get in one of my own.
He balled his fists on the desk surface. I smiled wider, injecting just a touch of the venom I had bubbling under the surface, and—it was then that a knock came from the door, and Ruth pushed inside.
“Hey, London,” she said, looking between us. “Sorry to interrupt. María needs to see you for something urgent. Can you wrap this up in a second?”
“We were just finishing,” I said, standing up. “Mister Farmer, thank you so much for coming in today. I’ll talk to Cameron about this and make sure we’re not pushing too hard with anything. Would you like me to walk you back to the exit?”
He gave me one last glare before he stepped back, putting on the awkward smile again before he looked at Ruth and back to me. “No, I think I’ll be okay. Thanks for hearing me out. And remember what I said.”
“Mm-hm. And same to you, Mister Farmer.”
He left the room walking strangely, like he was controlling a body he wasn’t used to. Ruth watched him go before she gave me a concerned look, and I sank into my seat.
“Thanks,” I said, voice softer.
“It’s what I’m here for.” She shut the door, coming over next to me, a hand on my arm. “What was he doing?”
I waved a hand idly in the air. “Cameron… her husband. They’re separated, but don’t tell anyone. He made her promise never to live too lavishly or buy anything too expensive. He called things off with her, but when he found out she’s signed up with us on such a big budget, he’s been haunting her. Apparently he decided to come for me too.”
“Oh, I fucking knew it,” she said, dropping into the couch. I raised my eyebrows.
“You knew about him harassing her? That they were separated?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You—” She pointed at me, and with a crack, the clasp on her bangle broke, and it popped open and fell on the floor. She let out an exasperated groan, picking it up. “Fucking hell. Always in your damn office, London. You have ghosts in here?”
“Sadly, I haven’t choked out Miguel and hidden him in a cabinet yet, so no.”
She shoved the bangle back in her bag, turning to me with a tired look. “Real talk, London. Be straight with me. You’re fucking her.”
