I squint at him. “But you just said he’s pleased.”
He shrugs, dusting some lint from his suit jacket. “For now. A man like him can change his mind for no reason at all. His satisfaction can be fleeting.”
His lack of faith in me stings, but I don’t expose such a downfall. “I can assure you that his account is being handled with the utmost care. He’s going to keep coming back for more.”
His expression brightens. “That sounds promising. I knew putting you on this case would pay off.”
The cramp in my chest loosens with his praise. “You can count on me.”
“And I do. We have a lot riding on this,” Vince reminds me. “See to it that Landon remains happy.”
The corners of my lips curl with conviction. “Oh, I will.”
Just as I click send on my latest email, a telltale hum from the intercom speaker precedes my assistant’s intrusion. It’s almost like he knows when I have a second to spare.
My cousin clears his throat, ensuring he has my attention. “Sir?”
Always with the formalities. At least he didn’t just barge in. I scrub over my forehead. “What is it, Walt?”
“Your eleven o’clock is here.”
A glance at my inbox shows fifty unread messages that demand attention. “Who is it again?”
His tapping echoes through the speaker. “Ms. Leer. You added her to the calendar yesterday.”
Tar fills my gut at the reminder. This nobody managed to convince me that she deserves a conversation—in person. It had been the lesser of two evils at that moment. She caught me while I’d been balancing a dozen things at once. That’ll teach me to multitask on a more basic level.
I’d usually pass her off to a lowly lackey, and still can. She insisted on meeting with me, but so does every other business owner with a dream of expanding. Persistence can earn rewards, and it just so happened to pay off for her.
“Let her in,” I instruct.
This shouldn’t take longer than five minutes. Maybe ten, if she’s prepared a decent speech to accompany a legitimate investment opportunity.
Not thirty seconds later, a buxom blonde struts into my office. She has ‘nuisance’ written all over her designer dress that’s three inches shorter than most would deem professionally appropriate. A sigh coated in exasperation streams from my lips as she lowers onto a chair, giving me an intentional peek between her thighs.
The urge to kick her out before she even begins singes my tongue.
“I appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to see me.” Her voice carries a smokey edge that I’m sure is meant to be enticing.
She’s beautiful in the most obvious sense. Her smooth curves and long legs pair well with alluring facial features. The entire package she boasts probably turns most heads fast enough to cause a neck cramp. Unfortunately for her, I could teach a course on the art of seduction. A man doesn’t sit on a throne without being propositioned on the regular. I’m already peeling away her outer layers to snuff out the tried-and-true strategy underneath.
I was in a generous mood when she called to secure a slot in my schedule. In the twenty-some hours since speaking with Ms. Leer, my opinion on the matter has significantly darkened. Agreeing to this shit was a horrible waste of time. But she’s already here.
“Ms. Leer—”
The blonde holds up a finger and winks. “Chanda, please.”
“All right, Chanda.” That’s a stage name if I’ve ever heard one. “My time is very valuable. Don’t waste it.”
“I plan to make every second count.” Then she dips forward, offering me a blatant view of her cleavage. She isn’t the first woman to use her assets as an advantage. Those traits won’t suffice in baiting me.
An image of Vannah pulling this same stunt flashes through my mind. The big difference is that I was actually tempted to bite with the fiery redhead. “Give me your pitch.”
She licks along her glossy bottom lip, nibbling at the corner. “I have an ample idea that’s ready to spread wide.”
My interest is long gone. Not that much existed to begin with. “Spit it out.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer I swallow?” Her mouth forms a tiny circle, and she sucks in a deep breath.
And just like that, she’s officially crossed into dangerous territory.
Red flags whip against my skin, lashing from all directions as I maintain a neutral expression. Sour acid gurgles in my stomach. I want to deal with her less than a root canal sans Novocain, but I’m