Page 62 of Wicked Proposal
I take in the mess of red pen on it. Another act of insolence that would have left anyone else short of the hand that did it.
“Have you, now?”
She puts a hand on her hip and holds my gaze again. “Yes.”
It’s a cute bluff. We both know that she needs this deal. That she’s fucked ten ways from Sunday if it falls through.
But it doesn’t keep her from putting on a brave front.
That, at least, I can respect.
“Very well.” I take a seat across from her. “Let’s hear it.”
She taps on the first page. “First, no invasions to my home life. Those gorillas out there? I want them gone faster than you can say?—”
“No.”
Mia blinks. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I don’t believe I stuttered.” I lean over and hook that delicious, flustered blue gaze of hers. “I’m the boss. I decide what gets done, when, and how. And your bodyguards aren’t going anywhere.”
She grits her teeth. “This isn’t how negotiating works.”
“I never said I’d be negotiating with you. That was your assumption.”
Her face twists with displeasure, but I can tell she’s not done fighting. “Why would I even need bodyguards?” She throws up her arms. “I’m not becoming the fake girlfriend of Prince Henry. Unless your king-of-the-world complex really is that big.”
“My men stay.” I stare her down. “That’s final.”
She stares me down right back. “One,” she growls. “One man, downstairs. Or on the roof, or in the plumbing—I don’t care where he stays, so long as it isn’t in front of my apartment. My kid’s already going through a lot—he doesn’t need to worry about Bond villains at his door, too.”
My kid’s going through a lot.I file that tidbit of information away, remind myself to set Maksim on its trail.
Whatever’s going on in Mia’s life, I want to know it. A pawn as crucial as her is not allowed the luxury of privacy.
“That’s quite the characterization,” I remark.
“My kid’s quite the Bond fan.”
She doesn’t drop my gaze. I can see her swallowing with nerves, the subtle tremor of her fingers giving her away. But despite all that, she’s still pushing back.
I can’t say I dislike it. Infuriating or not, she’s got guts. And if this plan is going to work, I’m gonna need that attitude.
“Fine,” I say. “One guard, in his car. But I want a camera on the door. Live feed, 24/7.”
“Can you make it small?”
“I’m the CEO of StarTech. I can make anything.”
“Then that’s fine with me.”
She doesn’t look impressed with my declaration. Instead, she flips right to the next order of business. “Condition two—reasonable notice.”
“Sure,” I deadpan. “I’ll check with your assistant. Maybe you can send me your Calendly. Oh, and have we connected on LinkedIn yet?”
She makes a frustrated noise. “I have ajob,Yulian. I’m a single mom. And on top of all that, sometimes, I actually have a life, too!”
“Congratulations. Where should I stick your gold star?”
