Briggs - A Carolina Reapers Nove - Samantha Whiskey Page 0,6
is another way of controlling him.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “So not what I was going for.” God, the ink had barely dried on the contract and I’d already messed this up.
“I know,” she said. “And whatever you decide, I’ve got your back. You know what you’re doing. He doesn’t. Maybe he just needs time—”
“Bristol!” My name being shouted from my office door in the penthouse I currently occupied—followed by a barrage of pounding—cut her off.
My heart leaped to my throat, and chills skirted my skin. “Want to bet on that?” I asked toward the phone, then shook my head as I pushed from my desk. “I’ve got to go.”
“Remember, the sex contract is a solid backup!” Grace yelled before I hit the end button.
“Bristol, I know you’re in there!” Cormac pretty much growled from the other side of the door.
I rolled my eyes, straightening said power suit jacket Grace had mentioned earlier. As much as I felt guilty for everything that had happened four years ago, I certainly didn’t appreciate him trying to break down my office door. It was brand new for fuck’s sake.
“You don’t have to scream,” I said as I opened the door. “I was on a call.” I arched a brow at him, trying like hell to slow down my heart. Sure, he looked downright edible in the jeans and white T-shirt combo he donned as he stomped into my office, but it didn’t excuse his Neanderthal behavior. “You also could’ve called first. My assistant would’ve been happy to pencil you in.” There, I sounded a little more like myself—like the businesswoman I’d busted my ass to become. He may remember me as a buzzed seventeen-year-old girl, but I was a grown woman now, dammit.
I walked around my desk, taking the opportunity to inhale some much-needed deep breaths before I dropped into the chair behind my desk.
Bad idea. The air was filled with his scent—all verbena and honey with just the hint of leather. It swarmed me, stealing my breath and taking me right back to that night—his lips on mine, his taste in my mouth, his strong hands on my hips—
“You made the contract where I couldn’t get out of it,” he said, sinking into the chair across from my desk.
His deep brown eyes were molten, not even an attempt to hide his anger.
Well, fine then, two could play that game. “I don’t write the contracts—”
“No,” he cut me off. “You just sign them.”
I took a steadying breath, reminding myself to take my emotions out of this very-much-business conversation we were about to have. Try being the optimum word—it wasn’t like he was succeeding at it either, not that I could truly blame him…but he didn’t need to know that.
“Is there something you’d like to discuss without yelling at me, Cormac? Because if not, I have plenty of calls and emails I need to return.”
His hands fisted on the arms of the chair, the muscles bunching underneath his smooth skin. God, he looked good. Smelled good. If only I could get him to not look at me like I was his enemy.
“Bristol,” he said in a much calmer tone, and the way he said my name? It made little sparks of heat flare beneath my skin. “My lawyer and my agent worked on the contract all night only to tell me this morning that—”
“I’m the only one who can let you out of it without a financial hassle?”
He gave me one sharp nod.
“That’s true,” I said, keeping my face even of emotion. “My lawyers have been working for my family for decades. They know how to ensure I’m protected—”
“You’re protected?” he cut me off. “Bristol, you have it so ironclad you practically own me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d become so dramatic over the years.”
He narrowed his gaze at me, but I didn’t lose his stare no matter how badly my instincts told me to look away. “What’s it going to take to get out of this?” he asked, his tone cold, calm.
I swallowed around the knot in my throat, begging my stomach to chill the fuck out. The nerves were tangling and twisting so much I may as well have drunk several bottles of champagne last night. But I hadn’t had a drop, and still I felt close to puking all over my shiny new desk.
“Why do you want out of this so badly?” I asked, fidgeting with a pen. “Do you feel you aren’t up to challenge?”