playful smile.
“Stop, this is a business meeting, remember?”
“Of course, nothing but business,” I say seriously.
She steps forward as she gives me a look that says you're full of shit, and I notice something in her hands.
“What's that you got there?”
“Oh,” she says, holding it closer to her chest, and looking down. “I tried to show you yesterday, but you were a little preoccupied.” Tipping her head, she glares at me under hooded lids. “This is the holy grail to get this done right. Everything we need for the plan is in here.”
“The what?” Cocking a brow, I keep my eyes on her.
“The plan.” She looks up at me as she says it again. Seeing the confusion on my face, Sylvia brushes it off. “It's nothing, I'll explain it all later, don't worry about it right now.”
I stare blankly. I'm not aware of a plan, and I didn't realize that any of this required research and directions.
We don't need a breakdown of anything, I'm good with just letting it all play out on its own. She's thinking way too much about it. It's simple in my eyes. Find one little bird to send word to those wonderful journalists and let them do the rest.
All we have to do is smile and wave. Boom, problem solved and she’s the next Mrs. Phade Manson.
Sylvia bends over and climbs into the backseat, so I take the chance to check out her ass before it disappears as she sits. She scoots over so I can climb in next to her, and I can't take my eyes off her.
She crosses her legs, and I'm tempted to feel how smooth they are. Her hands fold on top of the binder, and she takes a deep breath as she keeps her face looking out the window. I watch her tits rise, and they stay there suspended in air as she holds her breath.
“Nervous?” I ask her, thumbing my bottom lip.
“No, why?” Her face whips in my direction as her lips thin. She looks almost offended at my suggestion.
Smirking, I relax back in the seat. Reaching to my right, I grab two glasses for champagne. “Yes you are, it's written all over your body.”
“What are you, a body psychic? You have the power to tell me what I'm feeling, and that what I'm telling you is wrong? Who do you think you are?”
Passing her a glass of champagne, she snatches it from my fingers and takes a big gulp.
“No, that's not it at all. I'm not trying to tell you how you feel, or how you should feel. I'm just telling you what I see, that's all. You don't need to put on an act for me, I'm not the paparazzi.”
Rolling her eyes, she swallows as she nods. “Right, you have an answer for everything. You know this pretentious attitude of yours is what got you in this position to begin with. Maybe you should just listen more and talk less. We all don't want your opinion, nor do we need it.” Huffing loudly, she turns her face back to the window.
I'm not trying to upset her or make her angry. I just don't want her to feel like she has to hide from me. I'm not here to judge her; unlike those vampire paparazzi, who print every dumb opinion for the ass bags of the world.
If we're doing this, let's do it right. I don't hide shit from anyone, even strangers. You meet me, you know exactly what you're getting.
Eyeing her quietly for a moment, I lean over and refill her glass. “I didn't mean to upset you, I just want you to be comfortable with me, that's all,” I say with a smile. “You really do look amazing, I mean that.”
“Don't get any ideas, Phade. We've been over this. It's just business.” Messing with the binder on her lap, she pulls it in against her stomach. She's holding it like it's the bible, or some type of historical document that needs to be protected.
Pressing my palms into the tops of my knees, I look over at the giant blue binder. “So, what's in that thing anyway? My life history? The evolution of Phade Manson? Because whatever it is, it looks like a lot.”
“No, it's nothing like that. This is our play book. A step by step guide to our engagement. When we met, how we met, all of it.” Touching the cover, she opens it slightly, then drops it back down. “This is going to be our