well raise a white flag and start packing my belongings.” I stride back to the mirror and inspect my handiwork. The desired effect shimmers at me. My already generous curves are highlighted by the clinging fabric.
Clea lets loose a wolf whistle. “Damn, girl. You look ready for a hot date.”
I do a little twirl for added impact. “Thanks for stroking my ego.”
She lifts a slim brow. “Is this worth your self-respect?”
“He doesn’t have the power to dull my sparkle.”
“That fluffy crap is Presley’s influence. You’re talking to a realist, Van.”
“I’ll be fine. Promise.” I add the vow to appease her.
Clea’s bouncy curls fling in wild disarray as she disagrees. “I don’t think poking the bear is a great idea. His bite is probably deadly.”
That gets me thinking about his pearly whites, which leads to the rest of his face. That chiseled bone structure is the type of perfection any sculptor would weep over. Those excellent genetics he’s been graced with only feed his ego further.
I had almost—emphasis on almost—forgotten how attractive he is. Mere moments in his presence offer a stronger shot of lust than my filthiest romance novels. His molten stare threatened to incinerate me while I shamelessly begged for more heat. Being in direct contact would most likely cause spontaneous orgasms. He’s far too handsome to be such a dick. What a waste.
“Or the guy is completely harmless,” I counter. “Landon Winters is a challenge. Like my fucking Everest, or something even more lethal.”
Clea purses her painted lips. “Don’t hurt yourself, Van.”
I snatch my phone from its cradle. “What’s the worst he can do?”
Her eyes widen. “You should never ask that.”
“I’m already cursed. It’s not like he can cause permanent damage.” A hollow sound escapes me as I glare at the floor. “I wasn’t properly prepared yesterday. He appeared out of nowhere. Now? I’ll be wearing my boss bitch face.”
“With an outfit to match,” she mutters.
She earns a wag of my eyebrows. “I’m glad you see it that way.”
Clea laughs at my antics. “I was being sarcastic.”
“Which I’m choosing to ignore.”
Her humor sobers, melting into a frown. “Vannah, I’m worried that you’re not taking this seriously.”
I pin my narrow stare on her. “I couldn’t be more serious if I tried.”
“Are you positive this devious ploy is the most appropriate plan of action?” It’s becoming quite obvious that Clea isn’t up to the task of blindly rallying behind any decision I choose to make.
I snort at her distorted image from our video chat. “Nope, but my options are limited when he insists on being an asshole.”
“Report him to Vince,” she insists.
That possibility is tempting, of course. My boss would be outraged on my behalf if I told him the extent of Landon’s behavior. But I’m not an innocent bystander. The disappointment Vince would carry for losing this account would follow me like a toxic shadow. “That would kill this deal completely, and I’m not prepared to be responsible for that. I’m capable of standing up for myself.”
Her features carry enough tension to make my temples throb. “I don’t care what you say. Provoking Landon Winters seems like a horrible idea.”
A pesky ache spreads through my chest. There’s no backing down. “Oh, ye of little faith. I’m well aware of when to quit. He’s predictable. This will be a war of willpower. I’ve been managing egotistical men my entire life. Are you forgetting about how my father and brother provide practice on the regular?”
She hums in agreement. “How’s your dad doing?”
I smile despite the hints of animosity that arise whenever he’s the topic. “Oh, fine. Spending his semi-retirement on the golf course.”
“I’m sure that’s helping him move past your so-called traitor status.”
That yanks another eye roll out of me. My dad opened a rather successful law firm decades ago in hopes that his children would take it over when the time came. I couldn’t have been less interested in that career. He’s still holding a grudge. Brother Dearest swooped in as the golden child, though. As if Trevor needs more reason for his head to swell.
“If my father finds out I’m representing Landon Winters, he might be proud of me.” I inspect my flawless manicure, getting a small boost from that possibility.
“Well, that’s another mark in the win column.” Yet she still doesn’t sound convinced.
Cue another disgruntled sound from me. “Ah, yes. My dad’s approval means so much to me these days.”
“You know what I mean,” she grumbles.
“I do, and thank you for being encouraging in an extremely delayed way.”
Clea