Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Spoken like a true shyster of a Mardraggon,” she purrs.
“Spoken like a snot-nosed Blackburn brat,” I retort.
“Better a brat than a murd—”
“Careful, Hell Kat,” I warn in a low growl. “You can throw venom all you want at me, but don’t you dare put me in the same category as my father.”
Those green eyes flash with ire that I stopped her tirade but I see something deep within that she probably doesn’t want to concede to me.
Contrition.
But she wants the last word, so she waves a dismissive hand. “This house is over the top and you know it.”
“Sorry if I don’t relish living in barns and smelling like horseshit,” I drawl with a slow rake of my eyes down her body.
I’m not sure what it says about me when her cheeks flush red and those eyes light up with something close to hellfire, and it looks like she could happily punch me. Instead, she takes a long step and leans in close, whispering, “I just took a shower, so I know I smell good.”
Fuck if my lungs don’t betray me, my nostrils flaring just so I can be proven wrong. Yeah… she smells like spring flowers and spicy citrus.
I never want her to know that I need space from all that she represents so I turn on my heel and head toward my office. “Might as well get this over with,” I say brusquely.
She’s whisper quiet behind me but I can feel her presence as she follows. To keep things professional, I take a seat behind my desk and point to a chair on the opposite side. She settles into it, dropping her purse to the floor and placing the binder on her lap.
Kat glances around the office, eyeing the bookshelves with interest before her gaze settles on me. “So, really… what’s the deal? Why did you move out of your parents’ mausoleum?” She inclines her head in faux apology. “I’m sorry. I mean home. Did you buy this monstrosity because you’re trying to compensate for something?”
I’m not sure why she needs to keep making her digs but I suspect it’s just to get a rise out of me. I decide to quell it quickly. “You of all people know I don’t need to compensate.”
I hold my breath, waiting for her to explode with rage. I can feel the air crackle between us, the undeniable tension that speaks of a shared past that neither of us dare acknowledge.
But she breaks it by smiling, scoffing with amusement before her expression turns hard and unyielding. She holds up the binder. “I read the trust agreement and the other financials. I’m ready to discuss the winery.”
“And like I told you when you reached out to me, we don’t need to do anything right now. This meeting could have waited.”
Which isn’t exactly true. There are things we need to move on but I didn’t want to deal with her and was hoping Ethan would come around and deal with me himself.
“Yet you were so eager to talk to Ethan,” she counters with narrowed eyes.
No sense in lying. “Because I wanted to have a way in to see Sylvie.”
She’s unfazed by my proclamation and ignores it, probably to piss me off. “No, you told my brother that decisions had to be made regarding expansion plans. So I’m curious why you’re avoiding it? Is it because you have to deal with me?”
Chuckling, I steeple my fingers, appraising her a moment. “You’re no peach to deal with, Hell Kat.”
She glares at me. “Stop calling me that.”
“Why?” I probe, feeling like I have the upper hand for a change and enjoying the leverage. “You used to like it.”
“That was a long time ago,” she says primly, her voice a cool brush-off that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There’s defiance in her words, challenge in her eyes. And for a moment, I remember why she’s so attractive beyond her physical beauty.
Because she was unattainable in all ways and that only makes something more desirable. But as she said, that was a long time ago.
“Look,” I say, giving a pointed glance at the binder in her hand. “You need to review more than a few profit-and-loss statements to be able to talk intelligently about the winery.”
“How about you just lay it out to me like I’m a fifth grader and I’ll pass it on to Ethan,” she replies coolly.
“Fine.” I lean forward in my chair, clasp my hands on the desk. “We have a major investment opportunity which will expand the wine distribution network. There are some innovative but risky marketing strategies I’d like to implement. Each decision could significantly impact revenue and market presence, thereby building more profit, which is ultimately all to Sylvie’s benefit.”
“You mean make her a bigger target to your dad,” she says, her words so scathing I’m taken aback.