“If we split fifty-fifty,” Luna insists. “That’s our final offer.”
The plans I have require a majority share, and I know Luna will cave because she’ll be thinking first about her friend’s best interests. Luna is stubborn. She doesn’t lack courage at all, that’s obvious, but their financial situation is teetering on a knife’s edge. Marlon their guarantor—and I know from one of the emails I received this morning that he’s Josie’s older brother—must have some serious equity. Probably from the family compound back in Iowa. Most banks wouldn’t lend this much without at least some capital behind them to spend on maintenance and operations. However all that played out, I can see that Josie is Luna’s Achilles heel, her one weakness. “As I said, the majority share is non-negotiable.”
More daggers. The cutest, sexiest goddamn daggers I’ve ever seen.
Why am I suddenly so fascinated by this angry, standoffish little woman?
Possibly because she’s the most stunningly beautiful angry, standoffish little woman in the history of my world.
And I can’t let her slip through my fingers because I didn’t push hard enough. I want her where I want her and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to put her there. This goes against every grain of business sense I possess—which is a shitload—but I hear myself saying, “Fifty-one percent for one million dollars. That’s my final offer.”
Josie’s pink cheeks pale, which is mildly concerning. “A million dollars?” she squeaks.
Luna exhales a sigh that’s somewhere between disbelief and defeat. Josie hears it, and glances at her friend. There’s empathy in Josie’s expression and for a split second I feel a pang of something that might be … compassion? It’s hard to identify because it doesn’t show up on my radar all that often. Or ever, to be precise.
I’m giving them no choice. I’m bullying the situation, like I so often do. Why do I suddenly feel sort of bad about it?
I’m helping them, I remind myself. I’m setting Josie up with enough money to raise her children comfortably, without any financial worries.
To get to Luna.
To get with Luna.
To get Luna into your bed.
So? Is that so bad? I can do what I want with my money. It’s my money, for fuck’s sake.
Josie attempts to get to her feet, but it takes some effort. I stand up to help her, desperately trying to keep my rampant hard-on concealed.
Josie picks up the envelope. “Mr. Mc—”
“Gage.”
“Gage.” Josie smiles gently, and I already know I’ve won. “It’s a generous offer and we appreciate it. But we’re going to need some time to talk it through.”
“Take all the time you need.”
“Can we meet with you tomorrow?” Josie asks.
“Of course.” It’s disappointing, that Luna won’t be in my bed tonight, but twenty-four hours will give me enough time to plan my next move so thoroughly Luna will have no choice but to surrender to me. “You two talk it over. How about I meet with both of you here tomorrow afternoon around five and you can let me know what you’ve decided. After that,” I add, smiling at Luna—genuinely, because she’s gorgeous and it’s making me stupidly happy for reasons I can’t control or entirely understand—“I’ll take you to my cousins’ gig. Both of you, if you’d like.” Because Luna is more likely to agree if it doesn’t feel like a date. And Josie will refuse.
“A night on the town is more than I can handle in my current state.” Josie pats her round stomach. “Besides, Luna’s more of a Tucker Brothers Band fan than me. Are they really your cousins?”
It’s pissing me off to no end that I’m resorting to using fucking Travis, Vaughn and Kade to get myself a date, but I’ve already decided I’ll do whatever it takes. “Yes. So what do you say?” There’s a hopefulness in my voice I don’t even recognize. “It’ll be fun.”
Fun? You sound like a fucking imbecile.
I don’t care. I’ll convince her I’m not a bully or a jerk. For the first time in a very long time, I actually care about what another person thinks of me. I want her to … like me. Go figure.
Clearly, not only does she not like me, she loathes me. This is obvious by the fury shining out of her jewel-bright eyes. “No,” she says. “I don’t think so. I’m busy tomorrow night.”
Josie stares at her friend sharply. “But you love the Tucker Brothers. We have plenty of staff on tomorrow night, Luna. You should totally go. It’ll give you two a chance to talk about everything and to start making plans.”
“We haven’t decided the sale will go ahead yet,” Luna says. She’s surly.
“The seats are front row,” I add. “We’ll have a drink with the band before the show.”
Luna’s glaring at me, as though she’s not sure she loves the band enough to put up with me for an entire evening. Judging by the cocktail of emotion coloring her expression, ranging from hatred to annoyance to rage—to something else, buried deeper, which is harder to read—I’ve got my work cut out for me. And I can hardly wait. I’ve spent a lifetime building my arsenal. Of seduction, of money, of buying whatever I want.
I don’t want to buy her.
I have this unfamiliar urge to fucking win her.
She sighs. “Fine,” she finally says.
Yes!
I’ll show her. I can be a good person, she’ll see. I don’t always use people to get what I want.
She’ll fall in lust with me. She has to.
Maybe even in love. Once she discovers the things I can do.
I’ll have her right where I want her. Under me. Submitting. Taking me inside.
Hell, yeah.
She’ll see.
Fuck.
“I can’t believe that jerk! Who does he think he is? Waltzing in here offering a million freaking dollars? I mean, what the hell? Who would do that, just out of the blue? He’s a total stranger who doesn’t know the first thing about us or our business!”
We’re upstairs and Josie is sitting on the couch, leafing through the contract. I spent a fitful, sleepless night. Even an extra-intense yoga practice this morning couldn’t cure me of all the pent-up frustration. My life has just changed irrevocably, and all because of one ego-maniacal playboy who won’t even consider less than fifty-one percent.
“You’re pacing,” she says. “Actually, he seems to know a whole lot about our business, down to the exact amount of money we owe.”
“Exactly. How does a person even find out about details like that?”
“He said a lot of it was public information.”
“But not all of it! Our bank statements? Our equity? The value of our damn chattels? That’s the kind of detail he would have had to go to our bank to find out about. Which is a very devious and underhanded way to go about something like this.”