way you treat my mouth.
* * *
Cole: Woman, I want to treat your mouth decadently right the fuck now.
* * *
Sage: Good. I hope you’re as aroused going about your day as I am, then.
* * *
Cole: I am steel. I am relentlessly hard for you.
* * *
And that thrills me. That delights me to no end.
In fact, the entire day delights me until Ivy pops into my office late in the afternoon. There’s a crease between her brows. Her eyes are worried.
“What’s wrong?”
“Did you hear that The Invitation just signed Jane Black for a two-week concert series?”
My ears ring. My vision buzzes. I grit my teeth. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Her answer is crisp.
“This isn’t a goddamn game.”
But maybe it is. Maybe this is precisely a game. And Cole isn’t the only one who can play.
All my competitive instincts sharpen, coiling like a jack-in-the-box, and I snap.
I pick up my phone, stab the dial pad like I want it to die, and ring the managers for Max and Alex.
When they come on the phone, I swipe away all my annoyance, and I calmly up the offer. It’s a little more money than I want to spend. But I won’t lose them. Not to anyone.
“We want them. Let’s make it happen.”
Five minutes later, they say yes.
Ivy grins at me like I’m magic.
I don’t feel like magic. I feel like fire. And fury.
I say goodbye to my sister, telling her I have something to take care of at The Invitation. And I go across the street to pay a visit to my rival.
24
Sage
I am fuming. Red billows from my eyes. Anger floods my veins.
This is war.
I won’t lose. I march through his casino, cursing the slot machines, flipping the virtual bird to the poker tables, and seething at the sleek, elegant, absolutely magnificent design of this place. It’s silver and mirrors, chrome and elegance, black and white. It exudes sophistication, and I detest every square foot of it right now.
I imagine myself as a Marvel superhero, spraying fireballs at the floor from my palms while wearing a black leather suit and stilettos. Unleashing my rage.
Imitation might be the sincerest form of flattery, but their flattery feels more like theft. Like plagiarism.
I make my way to the stairwell leading up to the executive suites, stalking down the hall.
When I reach the CEO’s offices, I rap hard, then open the door. A receptionist with a sleek black bob raises her chin, gives me a professional smile, and says, “May I help you, Ms. Carmichael?”
She knows me. She should know me. And because I am known in this town, and because I have a reputation that matters, I practice what I’ve spent my whole life learning—how to be a woman of grace even when the world around you goes up in flames.
Even as I go up in flames.
I tamp down my anger. I set it aside, since there is no place for it in front of her. “I’m here to see Cole Donovan,” I say in as even and professional a tone as I can.
“He’s in a meeting right now. But I can let him know you’re here.”
“Daniel, then,” I say with a huff. Then I breathe, correcting myself. I will not huff. I will not puff. “Please. I would love to see him, please.”
Another smile comes my way. “Actually, they’re in the meeting together. They should be available shortly. I don’t believe they’re expecting you, but I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see you.”
A voice drifts down the hall, growly, sexy. “‘Delighted’ is precisely the right word.”
My neck turns hot. My chest tingles.
Against my damn wishes. I didn’t come here to be aroused, dammit. I turn in the direction of Cole’s deep, raspy voice, as he says, “Please join us, Ms. Carmichael.”
I fight the desire by whirling toward the dark-haired receptionist and focusing on her. “Thank you so much. By the way, your hair is stunning. Truly striking.”
She pats it, pleased, clearly. “Thank you, Ms. Carmichael.”
I stride to where Cole holds open a door.
Daniel is at the edge of the office suite, standing by a sliding glass door that leads out to a balcony overlooking the city five floors below. The two men wear suits, but in that delicious state of afternoon undress that powerful men often find themselves in—jackets off, sleeves rolled up. Daniel’s, I surmise, is the one slung over the back of a chair on the balcony. Cole’s is off too, tossed on a couch. His blue silk tie is slightly