Page 25 of Ruthless Wars

Like, I see, I’m dealing with a lesser Long. Or, I see, I didn’t even know you existed, but I don’t have much of a choice.

“If that’s settled,” Jean says after clearing her throat, “then let’s continue. We’ll start with an overview of the agenda.”

Despite the dullness of page after page of legalese and the throbbing headache somewhat relieved by the aspirin taken hours ago, my head clears enough that I can focus. And think. After all, I did tell Coop women can think.

He had no idea who I was. Not last night, and certainly not today. So, our encounter was completely by chance?

Maybe.

It was Coop who said this can’t be a coincidence. But then again, he doesn’t seem to know me. Or he believes you keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Like, deep, deep inside them close.

I fidget in my chair, cross my legs, and start from square one. Holding my phone beneath the table in front of me, I google him as my mind wanders.

Coop doesn’t know me. Why would he? I’ve never been tied to any major transactions. In fact, I’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure my name hasn’t been associated with Long Multinational at all.

Which is more than convenient. I control the shots I take and answer to no one. Dad and Jaclyn do the corporate magic, and I sit back and reap the rewards. No apologies. No excuses. Just a whole lot of cash that I can roll around in like a naked Scrooge McDuck.

So, why does it bother me that the big reveal of my last name was, I don’t know, anticlimactic? Or that he’s barely looked up at all, let alone looked at me? The guy’s been glued to the paperwork, scribbling random notes on a page here and there.

And with the girl named Allison seated cozily beside him, I admit, I’m a little jealous. Every now and again, his colleague leans her curvy body close to his, eager to point out something on his copy of the paperwork, and his smile is warm. Genuine. And fucking annoying.

For God’s sake, the man’s an attorney. Obviously, he can read.

The vibration of my phone tears me away from my momentary obsessing.

anonymous number: I wasn’t lying.

Puzzled and intrigued, I wait for the dancing dots to stop as a second message comes through.

anonymous number: You’re beautiful.

The silly compliment makes me smile like a teenager with a crush. Popping a brow, I peek above my phone, catching the smile on Coop’s soft, supple, kissable lips.

He’s focused on the phone in his hands, and his grin spreads wider, like it did the night before, right when my body lay trapped beneath his in a glorious attempt to hold me hostage.

After taking a moment to program his contact into my phone, I finally reply.

margot: How did you get this number?

coop: It wasn't too hard once I got your name.

margot: This number's unlisted.

coop: You say that like it's hard.

margot: Oh, I think we both know it's hard.

We exchange a glance, and when his wicked smile widens, I can almost feel the stretch of him from beneath the long table. My composure melts as I squirm in my seat.

coop: Temptress, where you're concerned, everything's within my reach.

margot: Everything but a seat on the board. At least, not without a financial disclosure. If that’s what you’re after.

His reply stalls. The validation fills me with both victory and angst. Shyly, I peer above my phone.

His stall wasn’t deliberate. It was adorable. With a few swift strokes and a smoldering glance my way, he’s jotting notes on the pages of the contract, apparently multitasking between flirting and delegating.

Finished, he hands the page to the other female associate on his team. Simone, I think. Disregarding her pursed lips and quiet head shakes, he raises his brows pointedly at her, her attempts to dissuade him apparently falling on deaf ears.

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