Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
There’s no polite response to that, and he deserved it.
In two strides, he stands in front of his window wall looking out over Chicago.
“Come here,” he says.
With my cinnamon coffee clasped in my hand, I join him at the window. Hopefully this drink will make his bullshit easier to tolerate.
“How did you know I’d like heavy cream and sugar, though?” I ask. I’ve never tried heavy cream in my drink before. It’s like lacing rich dark coffee with velvet.
“The so-called coffee you sprayed on my Italian leather shoes was almost white. It had to have a lot of something in it, and since The Bean Bar is known for the highest quality Kona beans available on the mainland, I feared it would be too strong for you without the cream.”
“How benevolent of you.”
The corners of his lips turn up into an almost-smile that he immediately pushes off his face.
Yeah.
Don’t let anyone dare think you’re human, Magnet—I meant Maggot.
Magnet might be more true. Even with his foul temper, he’s still too charming, too good at drawing people closer, before he swings his trap shut.
He stands so close to me his sea breeze cologne tinged with testosterone wafts around, overpowering my coffee.
Dear Lord. Here we go.
If anything could be more tempting than this man’s physique and those crystal-blue eyes, it’s his scent.
“Look out there,” he urges softly.
Weird request, but I gaze out the window, trying to pinpoint what he’s looking at.
“What do you see?” he asks.
“Downtown.”
“Buildings, right? Skyscrapers?”
I nod. “I said downtown Chicago.”
“Here’s something you need to understand. It’s been clear you don’t respect me from the moment we met—”
“Which makes it pretty weird that you hunted me down and hired me,” I tell him. “Not that I’m complaining. I need the job.”
He cocks his head, his jaw tight.
“You’re gutsy. I knew we could use that. My point is, I won’t ask you to respect me, although you will act like it in my office. What you should respect—what every single person in this office, myself included respects—is the awesome power of Heron Communications.”
HeronComm has powers? I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
This man takes himself far too seriously. He really thinks he’s some gift to the world. The worst part is, in spite of his arrogance, I’d relish peeling that dark suit off his body.
Or maybe I’d just like to hang off him the way his jacket does.
Either way.
“Without this business—my business—so many of those buildings would be empty. They’d go bankrupt and their people would be out of work. Without marketing, a business is nothing more than a stalled engine. HeronComm has worked with two thirds of the companies you’re looking at right now. We’re jet fuel for everything that soars in this city. Even the fastest blip of a mobile ad or Instagram advertising another mindless game to download helps someone accomplish their dream. Advertisement’s the blood of the business world, Miss Bristol, and we’re the lion’s share of that market. It isn’t just a numbers game. We charge what we do because I guarantee conversions. We work sixteen hours a day to make their engines, their dreams, roar.”
Am I supposed to be impressed?
It’s a good speech, but it’s hard not to roll my eyes.
He’s got a high and mighty view of what he does.
Not that I think he’s wrong, exactly. Marketing is important.
If I could convince Mom to believe in it, get her to take a few self-publishing marketing courses, maybe I could quit secretly buying her books. But if HeronComm wasn’t providing the service, wouldn’t some other company just steal their clients?
I glance over, carefully avoiding his eyes.
Is he done? I’ve got too much work to do to stand here listening to big speeches all day.
But bits and pieces of what he said echo Armstrong’s words from this morning.
A driven man with a clear vision fits the crass grump in his glassy tower like a glove.
Maybe he’s not so bad after all.
So I take the olive branch, smile, nod, and turn my foot.
“I appreciate the introduction,” I tell him.
I’m about to walk away when he grabs my arm. It’s not some harsh power move. It’s gentle.
My whole body tingles.
Still, his unexpected touch stops me in my tracks. I take a deep breath, hoping he doesn’t realize I’m already hooked on his smell. My eyes lock on his face, every hard angle and the halo of a beard, which tells the world he’s not afraid of breaking the clean-shaven convention for most big city tycoons richer than Midas.
“Are you enjoying your drink?” he asks, his voice like low, pleasing thunder.
“I am.” I blink, wondering if I’ve unlocked some strange softer side.
“Good. I trust it’s the fuel you need to get your ass in gear,” he snaps, shattering the illusion.
Stupid me.
Forget maybes. He definitely is that bad. And just like that, any kind gesture with the coffee is erased by his acid words.