Page 41 of Fiery Romance

One I’m prepared, one hundred percent, to own the consequences for.

But first, I’ll try some decorum. Gran always said that a little honey is better than vinegar going down. And if I can end this without wearing one of those hideous orange jumpsuits they hand out in prison, then I’m going to take the high road.

My eyes lock on Bolton.

My opponent.

My enemy.

Stay calm, Island.

He looks ready for anything and seems taken aback that I’m not here with guns blazing. That’s on purpose. I didn’t get this far by being impulsive. The world is harsh, cruel and unforgiving. Reality is what it is. If there’s no sense fighting the system, I might as well learn how to thrive in it.

Reality says I can’t beat Bolton when it comes to money or brute force. But I’ve got what all women do—the gift of feminine persuasion.

And I plan to use it.

If it works, great.

If it doesn’t…

Plan B.

“Mr. Bolton,” I say in a calm tone. I’m too pissed off to go for ‘sweet’, but I figure that simplynotrushing at his face with claws extended is more than he deserves.

“Miss Hayes.”

The way he says my name, all dark and heavy, makes something in my stomach clench. I don’t knowwhythe clenching happens and I’m not excited about it happening again, so I take a deep breath and remember that I hate him and he needs to suffer.

As soon as he gives me my car back.

Tilting my head up, I say, “I’d like this meeting to be short and sweet. Wouldn’t you?”

“That depends,” he says, his voice gruff.

“On what?”

“What you really came here to do.”

My heart skips a beat. I swallow hard. Adjust the bat. Blink in panic once and then smooth my expression out again.

“If you answer this question, I’ll be on my way.”

He waits without a word.

“Are you willing to return my car?”

“Yes.”

Wow. That was easy.

“If,” he steps closer, “you agree to the chauffeur.”

It’s a counter-offer. One that’s worth considering, but pride rears its ugly head. I didn’t do my makeup, pick a wig and rush over here to concede on anything but getting my car back on my own terms. He was wrong to take it in the first place.

“I don’t need a fancy driver,” I insist.

“Then you need a better car. Which I provided. If you want, you can get another model. I don’t mind.”

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