Billion Dollar Enemy 11
Skye freezes in her tracks when she sees me. Her brown hair is in a ponytail, exposing her slim neck, a golden pendent resting at her throat.
“What are you doing here?”
“I need another book.”
Her eyes narrow. “Bullshit.”
“How would you know? Maybe I’ve already finished the one I bought last week.”
“Sure you have.” She puts her hands on her hips, a beautiful flush creeping up on her cheeks. The same thing happened in the meeting yesterday, but she hadn’t backed down, not even when my employees tried to silence her. It’s another piece of her puzzle. She’s brave.
“You should have told me last week,” she says. “Who you were.”
“And interrupted our banter? Never.” I lean in closer, remembering the shyness she’d displayed when I’d come into the store last week. “You would have never told me all the things I wanted to know if I had.”
Her color rises. “It wasn’t fair. You let me talk about… that, and all the while you knew that I’d feel differently as soon as I found out. I even called you an asshole to your face!”
I have to stop myself from smiling. “You did. I haven’t been called that in a long time. It was novel.”
“I’m so happy to provide you with some entertainment.”
“You’re misremembering things,” I point out. “You made it very clear that I was your entertainment that night, not the other way around.”Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.
Her brow furrows. “That’s not fair.”
“No? I kept the note you left me. Do you want me to find it? I think it’s in my wallet, actually.”
“No, thank you, and I actually don’t think it’s something we should talk about again. It’s unprofessional.” She takes a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest, her slim waist and the curve of her breasts accentuated. Being this close to her-knowing what her body feels like against mine-and not being able to reach out is like the sweetest form of torture.
“You’re right. We’re now in a professional arrangement, thanks to you.”
“You agreed.”
“So I did.” I deliberately look away from her, putting on my most contemptuous face, and sweep my gaze across the store. “Making this profitable is going to be quite a task.”
“You don’t think we’ll succeed? People don’t read as much these days, it’s a dying industry, yada yada yada. I’ve heard it all before. But you know what? You’ll thank me in the end.”
“I will?”
“Yes, when you get a perfectly run, highly profitable bookstore to add to your development.”
I pick up a book from the self-help section. How to Face Your Demons. “I’m not sure how I’d manage to incorporate a bookstore into the lobby of a hotel.”
“You’d break your word?”
I look up at the clear fury in her voice. “No. If you manage it in two months, we’ll manage the rest. Somehow.”
She hums, like she’s not convinced, but it’s a start. I put the book back. “How are you planning on doing it?”
“Making the store profitable?”
She crosses her arms. She’s wearing a T-shirt with the bookstore logo printed on it. Between the Pages is written right across her chest. “Why do you want to know? So you can sabotage us?”
“You are terribly paranoid.”
Something in her shoulders loosens. “Maybe. But this bookstore is too important, and you’re too annoying. I have to be on my guard.”
My smile is back. “I’m annoying? That’s not what I remember. I distinctly remember being called amazing. Great. Or, my personal favorite, the time you whispered that I was the biggest-”
“God, Cole!” She reaches over and hits my shoulder. For such a small woman, she’s strong. “What part of let’s-never-speak-of-it-again didn’t you understand?”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“You have to. What were you thinking, anyway? What if Karli was here?”
I look back at her calmly. “Then I’d be here to see the place in person.”
Skye is looking at me like she has absolutely no idea what to do with me. If it wasn’t for the fact that I feel the exact same way regarding her, I would have found it funny.
“That hotel bar was yours. You own it.”
“I own that hotel, yes.”
“The hotel room. Was it yours?”
I put my hands in my pockets. “Technically, they’re all mine.”
“You weren’t there on business.”
“I was, I just wasn’t from out of town. That was your assumption.”
“Why were you there?”
“I was waiting for someone at the Legacy. Someone who works in the building, but who was late.”
“You blew them off?”
“Can you blame me? A gorgeous brunette by the bar kept me pretty occupied.”
She fiddles with the hem of her T-shirt, as if she feels underdressed. Maybe I should have changed out of my suit. “You can quit with the compliments now. I’ve already climbed into bed with you once, and it’s not going to happen again.”
There’s a pang of disappointment, but I don’t let it show. I take a step closer. “Are you sure that’s a promise you’re willing to make?”
“Yes,” Skye says, but her voice is a bit breathless. It’s so quiet in the bookstore that I could hear a pin drop-not a customer, not background music, nothing.
“Are you here alone in the evenings?”
She puts a hand to her forehead, taking a step back. “Most of the time, yes.”