Page 61 of Twisted Collide

The distance evaporates, and I make the turn and then throw the car in park.

We hop out and walk inside.

A woman in her early thirties walks right up to me, hand stretched out.

“Hello, Mr. Sinclair. Can I call you Dane?”

No. You can’t, is what I want to say, but something tells me that won’t go over so well.

This woman doesn’t know me, but by the way she looks at me, I think she thinks she will.

“Sure.”

She beams at me and then turns to Josephine, her smile now a straight line.

“Thank you for bringing him . . .”

Josephine takes a step forward and extends her hand. “I’m Josie.”

The woman looks down at her hand like it’s diseased. “Cute,” she says in a patronizing voice.

Is she for real right now?

“Josephine is my temporary assistant while Molly is out of town. She’s Coach Robert’s daughter.”

That wipes the snide smirk right off her face. It also makes Josephine look like she might throw up.

Instantly, I hate that I said it.

The reason I did was to tell this bitch to treat her with respect, but I realize now, more damage was done to Josephine than to the reporter.

“Let’s make this quick,” I say, pointing at a free table. “We have another appointment after this.”

I turn toward Josephine to see if she’ll back me up despite the fact that we don’t have anything after this, but she plays along.

“Yep. Sorry, oh, I forgot your name.”

“Natasha.”

“Yeah, sorry, Natasha, Mr. Sinclair’s schedule is jam-packed. Busy man. So you guys might want to get to it.”

“No problem.” Natasha scurries behind me as I walk to the table.

The moment we get away from Josephine, Natasha is back at it, fluttering her lids at me and licking her lips.

Not acting at all professional.

“She’s a bit young. Don’t you hate nepotism?”

“My sister works for me,” I deadpan.

Her mouth opens and shuts like a guppy.

It takes her a few minutes to right herself before she takes out her recorder.

“So, tell me about your involvement with Saints and StarlingFoundation. From what I heard from Coach Robert, this charity is near and dear to your heart.”

It is, more than he knows, more than anyone knows.

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