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"I just sell jewelry so if it’s anything other than that you're going to have to find another girl," I start putting away all of my designs so I can make a quick exit when the time comes to run for my life.
"I want to buy your company. How much?"
I know this self-righteous prick just did not ask to buy my baby like it wasn't the outlet where I pour my love, sweat, and tears into.
"Go fuck yourself," it pops out before I can take it back and even though this man may be able to kill my dreams of starting a men's line, I find that I can't make myself say anything other than another four letter word.
I see the smile on his lips and can't help but look down at them as they tilt up. They look like they are made out of steel. Hell, this whole man looks like he should be a villain in a Superman movie.
"Everything is for sale, Miss. Mason. Your mother and father should have taught you that. You just have to find the right price."
I jump up and go for the door. "You want to start a jewelry business, by all means, go for it buddy. Knock yourself out, but don't come after mine. I don't need your money and my business is not for sale, asshole."
I don't get very far before a hand like a steel bracer is wrapped around my wrist halting my exit attempt.
"Very well, let's talk about my cufflinks," he says it in such a crisp tone that he could have been asking about the weather a moment before instead of offering to buy my company.
"No. I don't want to work with you," I can hear how childish it sounds even before I see the smile move his lips up even more on his face.
"Go out with me. On a date."
I can't stop my hand from coming around and smacking him in the face. I do it before I think, and when I'm done I'm horrified by what just happened and maybe also a little in pain because it was like slapping a brick wall really hard. I don't think I have ever hit another person in my life and I have never lost my senses so much that I would slap a client. Not that this asshole will be my client. I try to pull my hand away from him but he doesn't let go.
"Name your price. I'll want at least seven sets, possibly more. And I expect all of them to be unique and different. I want the drawings in here by the end of this week and I expect to have exclusive rights to them so that I don't see them on every other wrist I run across daily. Agreeable?"
I can't figure out what just happened and I can't keep up with this man. He just offered me a lot of money to do something I love and with what he is going to pay me, because I am totally charging him asshole tax, my little jewelry business won't have to worry for a long time. I give him a curt nod and run from the room.
***
If I'm being serious with myself I'm still running from him. That was months ago and I haven't stopped running. My cell phone jerks me out of my memories of Reyn and back into the now. I look down and have to think that my memories conjured the devil.
"I told you to stop calling me. We have no more business together," I use my curt professional voice.
"Where are you?" I shouldn't get wet at the sound of his voice but my damn treacherous body hasn't listened to me since the first time he walked into that board room.
"I'm at home," fuck him.
"Why would you lie to me?" he proceeds to tell me the address of the lake house.
"What the hell, Reyn? Are you stalking me? How the fuck do you know where I'm at?" I admit it’s more than a little creepy but it also makes me kinda hot that this guy goes out of his way to know where I'm at.
"The last time you came into the office I had Smiley put a tracker in your phone," Smiley is the little, disheveled guy that came in that first day and handed him the file. Apparently, he’s Reyn's go-to guy for anything nefarious like P.I. work or putting trackers on the phones of unsuspecting blonde girls who have the misfortune to be working anywhere around Reyn Andrei.
"Why?" it might sound like fear in my voice but its more just frustration.
"I told you, you belong to me. I would never let something that is mine go without knowing where to find it. Ever."
"I am not a thing, Mr. Asshole. I'm not a possession that you can piss on and mark. I'm my own person and you can go fuck yourself," I hang up and slam my phone down on the counter.
Him being so possessive should scare the fuck out of me but it doesn't. It makes me want to rub up against him and purr. I'm a sick bitch and I hate myself for not being completely disgusted at how Reyn acts, but a part of me has never felt more wanted in my life.
