Page 7 of Daddy's Naughty Realtor

His office. His territory.

"I'll be there," I promise, taking the folder.

* * *

Apex Development occupies the top three floors of a gleaming downtown high-rise. I step off the elevator into a reception area that screams money with glass and brushed steel and abstract art that probably costs more than my car.

"Ms. Long," the receptionist greets me with a smile that suggests she knows exactly who I am. "Mr. Ford is expecting you. Right this way."

She leads me down a corridor lined with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. My heels sink into plush carpet as we approach a set of double doors at the end of the hall.

"He's just finishing up a call," she says, opening one of the doors. "He asked if you wouldn't mind waiting in his office."

Before I can object, she's ushering me into a massive corner office and closing the door behind me.

The space is intimidating in its simplicity. Minimalist furniture, a wall of windows with a view that would make most CEOs weep with envy, and a desk large enough to land a small aircraft. The only personal touch is a single framed photo I can't quite make out from where I'm standing.

I resist the urge to snoop, settling instead on one of the sleek leather chairs facing the desk. I cross my legs, straighten my blazer, and prepare to be the consummate professional. Regardless of whatever game Jeremy thinks he's playing, I won’t be a willing participant.

The door opens five minutes later, and Jeremy strides in like he owns the world. Which, from the looks of this office, he might. Holy hell. I’d been tempted to look him up over the years, snoop on social media. But, I never did. I didn’t let myself. I forced myself to move on. Not think about him. Not go down that path. Maybe I should have. I wouldn’t have been as shocked as I am now. I figured he’d be successful someday. But this? Way beyond what I could even imagine.

"Gina," he says, his face lighting up with what appears to be genuine pleasure. "Thank you for coming."

"Mr. Ford," I reply, keeping my tone crisp and business-like. "I understand you're interested in developing the Franklin Street property."

"Straight to business." He chuckles, rounding the desk to stand in front of me rather than taking his seat. He leans back against the desk, close enough that I can smell his cologne. "That's one of the things I've always admired about you. Determination, stubbornness and intelligence, all in one."

I lift my chin. "I'm here to discuss the property, not take a trip down memory lane."

"Can't we do both?"

"I'd prefer to keep this professional."

"Hmmm." He studies me for a moment, then nods. "Alright, Gina. We'll play it your way... for now."

He moves to his chair, and I feel like I can breathe again. For the next hour, we're actually productive. Jeremy outlines his vision for the Franklin Street development. He has a plan to turn it into a mix of luxury condos, boutique retail, and office space. It's ambitious, innovative, and exactly the kind of project that could put both our names on the map in an even bigger way.

I take notes, ask intelligent questions, and ignore the way his eyes linger on me when he thinks I'm not looking.

"Your proposal is solid," I admit as we wrap up. "I'd like to revisit some of the zoning issues with the city planning commission, but overall, I think we have a framework to move forward."

"Excellent." Jeremy closes the folder in front of him. "Let's discuss it over dinner."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"Dinner. You, me, food. A civilized way to continue our discussion."

"That's not necessary. We can schedule another meeting next week with my team?—"

"I don't want your team, Gina. I want you." His eyes hold mine. "Just dinner. To discuss the project."

Liar,my brain whispers.This isn't about business.

But turning him down would be unprofessional, wouldn't it? This is a huge client. A huge opportunity. I can't let personal history get in the way of business.

At least, that's the excuse I make myself.

"Fine," I say. "Dinner. But strictly professional."

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