“Force of habit when dealing with the likes of these guys.” I slap the folder against my palm.
“Good point. Don’t stray from those manners.” He clears his throat. “You land this client, and that lead position is yours.”
I can read between the lines. If I screw this up, the promotion is gone. With that as motivation, I start backing to the door. “Nothing can stand in my way.”
Vince gives another harsh jerk of his head. “Let’s sure hope he doesn’t.”
“I’ll get Nancy to set up reservations at Manny’s this evening if Landon is available.” In my experience, the billionaire types usually prefer handling business while savoring an overpriced meal and bottle of equally expensive liquor.
“You can ask him yourself. He’s waiting in the main conference room for you.”
“By himself?” Showing up alone for a deal of this magnitude is slightly out of the norm.
He holds up an open hand. “I didn’t question his methods.”
I keep my composure in check at that shocking revelation. There isn’t a spare moment to prepare myself. The clock is already ticking. “Then I’ll update you on my progress sooner rather than later.”
“Looking forward to it.” He pins me with his trademark stare that everyone in the office cowers from. That look sends another shot of adrenaline through my system. There’s no one to fear but myself.
With my shoulders rolled back, I stride down the hallway. This client is my meal ticket to the next level. A long sigh decreases the strain in my stomach. I didn’t get this far by slacking off. That job is as good as mine.
I open the door and slam to a halt. A familiar face stares back at me without a hint of recognition shining in his brown gaze. Go figure. Not that I’d expect him to remember me. I would’ve gladly erased his existence from my brain if he didn’t unravel a disastrous chain of events where dating is concerned. Unfortunately, this asshole has left a lasting impression.
One word catches on my tongue, breaking the silence without warning. “You.”
The redhead pausing in the doorway is frozen stiff, her green eyes wide enough to get lost in. What crawled up her pert ass and farted? Or at least what I’m assuming is round and firm. I don’t bother checking out the merchandise because she appears to be a clingy sort. That trait tends to accompany enough emotional baggage to dissuade any interest on my part.
There’s no denying her beauty, though. Too bad that glossy appearance seems surface-level. It’s almost as if she’s imploring me to recall a significant event. I’d be hard-pressed to forget a stunner like her. That doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Women throw themselves at me faster than I can reject their advances. Nameless faces blur into muted shadows eventually.
Something about her seems familiar, but I can’t place what that is. She’s most likely one of the masses. Maybe that’s cause for her strange attitude. “Have we met?”
Or does my reputation stretch far enough to reach these parts?
“Not officially.” Her posture remains ramrod straight as she struts forward and sets a folder onto the table.
If I were shocked by this clipped reception—which I’m not—it sure doesn’t register on my features. I remain neutral and devoid of emotion as always. “That’s one way to greet a potential client.”
My words seem to snap her out of the dazed stupor she’s caught in. With a subtle clearing of her throat, she pastes on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. That phony compliance almost puts me at ease, since most people pretend to be pleased with my company. I’m well aware that the opposite is true.
This nameless woman folds herself into the chair across from me with the comfort of a predator among prey. Her shift in behavior is abrupt enough to garner my attention. I sit forward, propping an elbow on the table.
“How about we start with what you’re looking for?” The click of a pen signals her readiness to listen.
Suddenly she’s the epitome of professional? Highly doubtful.
The low scoff I release vibrates with admonishment. “I’m going to stop you right there. Vince assured me that you’re the best agent he has. Less than five minutes in your presence is proving the opposite. I’m beginning to believe you’re either sleeping with him to receive favoritism or you have a pre-established issue with me.”
“You’re mistaken, I’m afraid.” Her firm tone rolls off my shoulders without a hint of impact.
“Prove me wrong,” I goad. I feel zero remorse for lashing out