“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” I reiterate for my sake just as much as hers.
“You’ll have to leave eventually. Chicago needs you.”
I suck in a deep breath, inhaling fresh laundry and flowers. Beneath that are subtle hints from a slate being wiped clean with blossoming possibilities to soon follow. Her home smells like the start of something I want to be nearby for. “That brings up my next item on the agenda.”
Tension replaces the irritation in her features. “Ulterior motives?”
“Just a slight pivot while you consider cradling my heart in a gentle palm.”
“How many romance flicks did you watch prior to coming over here?”
“This is all me. Although to be fair, you’re responsible for initiating this emotional diarrhea.”
She clutches her temples. “You’re certifiable.”
“Thank you.” I smooth a palm across my jaw.
Vannah glances at the wall where several framed photographs are hanging. One picture is a candid of Vannah laughing with her friends. If I strain my ears, I can almost imagine the savory tune. She’s never lowered her guard enough for me to see her so carefree. I want that. Badly.
Her eyes flick back in my direction. “Just get on with what you want to say.”
“I’m opening a new headquarters for Global Winters in Minneapolis.” A smirk wiggles its way onto my mouth.
Vannah blinks in slow succession. “What?”
“My company is expanding and I’m leading the project.” I couldn’t care less where I set up shop so long as it’s in her general vicinity.
“You’re staying in Minnesota?” There’s a severe furrow pinching her expression. It’s unclear if she’s terrified or elated by this news. I’m choosing to believe it’s the latter.
“That’s correct.”
“And that involves me how? Not sure if you noticed, but I’m unemployed.”
“This will change that. I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh, since the last one panned out so well for me?”
I make a show of studying her flashy condo. Seems the jaded siren has a taste for the finer things after all. “I’m not so sure about that.”
Her scoff is indignant, clearly not appreciating my appraisal. “What’s the deal?”
“A job offer.”
“I’m not working for you.” The snark is instant and sharp.
I lift a finger, tempted to trace the freckles across her twitching nose. “Not for me. I’d like to be partners.”
“You want to invest in me?”
“Very much so.” My stomach almost rumbles at the potential of having a slice of her.
A slight breeze from the air conditioner flutters the auburn strands stuck to her face. “Is that all you want?”
I don’t bother masking my frown. “Not in the slightest, but it’s all I deserve to request.”
Vannah is quiet for a moment, the gleam in her eyes suggesting she’s dissecting every syllable I dare to pronounce. “I’m listening.”
“You go freelance, and I’ll bring the business. No one can do the job better than you. Don’t get stuck under another undeserving thumb.”
“You’re only suggesting that as a peace offering. I don’t want a handout from you.” Yet her tone has lost its frosty edge.
“Trust me, sugar. You’ll be earning your keep.”
“I’m not spreading my legs for you again.” She crosses them for emphasis.
“You’ve said that before and we know how that turned out.” Is that smug satisfaction in my voice? Well, yes. It certainly is.
She waves her hands in front of her. “I won’t repeat the same mistakes.”
Conquering her resistance will be extremely rewarding. The tangy victory is almost teasing my tongue as we speak. “I’d prefer if you keep an open mind.”
She leans against the plum couch behind her. The scale weighing her options practically pings in the silence. “You shouldn’t go into business with someone you’re interested in.”
“Is that advice for me or you? Just wondering which one of us would actually allow such limitations to guide our decisions.”
She huffs at my obvious manipulation tactic. Getting a rise from her is too tempting. “I’ll sleep on it and get back to you.”
“I’d prefer you sleep on me.”
Vannah shoves my arm, steering me toward the door. “Don’t test my generosity, Lannie.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar.” I wink at her over my shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”
My Aston Martin hugs the curb like a long-lost lover. I returned the rental a few days ago and bought my own. It’s more rewarding to drive this way.
After throwing the car in park, I slip on my aviators and stride to the sidewalk. The sun is shining on full blast, but there’s a slight bite in the air nipping at my ass. That breeze makes the summer heat docile and friendly, like getting an unsolicited blowjob in the back of a limousine.
And now I’m thinking about Vannah’s tongue lapping at my dick lollipop-style. I wonder if she’s into giving road head. That gets added to the stack of questions to ask once she’s done hating me.
Focusing on the temperature is less likely to cause blue balls. August in Minnesota is a frigid bitch compared to Illinois. I bet Chicago is still humping a hundred degrees with no plan of slowing down. At least I’m not drowning in sweat standing outside for longer than two minutes. This weather doesn’t make wearing a suit feel like a prison sentence. Even so, I’m tempted to forgo the layered attire. That’s a habit I’m not looking to break, though. Keeping up appearances to a certain extent is expected.
I sidle up next to a meter machine and dig out my phone. I text Vannah, we banter for several minutes, I narrow in on her location, and pause for the inevitable clash. This routine is beginning to settle in as a pattern. She makes the task easy by being extremely predictable. The woman who’s still refusing my affections has a lady boner for this frou-frou coffee shop off Hennepin Avenue.
Me: Good morning, sugar. What’s on your agenda for today?
Savannah: Cold calling old clients. Same as usual.
Me: I’m glad you took my freelance suggestion seriously.
Savannah: I’ll admit you have decent ideas every now and then.
Me: Such as partnering with me? You could accept my offer.
Savannah: I’m not that desperate yet.
Me: I’ll wear you down.
Savannah: And I look forward to watching you try.
It’s been a week since I dropped the bomb about opening a Minneapolis branch for Global Winters. Vannah has yet to swallow the juicy bait I’m dangling like a limp dick. That thought stops me short. Maybe I should improve my presentation.
In the meantime, I’ve been chasing her sexy ass to no avail. The term stalking has such a negative connotation. I’m merely trying to drop myself in her path whenever possible. That makes it harder for her to pretend I don’t exist and escape my semi-sweet advances. Years of sitting on top of the food chain have inflated my confidence to the brim. Through my skewed sense of reality, it would appear impossible for her to forget about me. I know better, though. Vannah will continue to ignore me simply out of spite.