Page 13 of Prince of Storms
I jumped and whirled, backing up a step. My leg hit a bed, and I abruptly sat down, staring up at him.
“N-no,” I said, gathering myself. “I actually was just wondering if you’d come here in the car. That’s all.”
How I’d thought of that lie on the fly, I didn’t know, but damn, I was good!
“No. I have other things to pick up that require more space,” he said, slowly looking around at our items on display. “Okay, two of this style, one of those, one of those, and two of those.”
I followed his pointing figure, my brain already racking up dollar signs. “Okay,” I said, hurriedly grabbing a clipboard from the nearby workers' table. “What pieces do you want from them?”
His face darkened. “All of them. I want it looking exactly as is.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, noting which sets he’d pointed toward. “We can do that.”
“Make sure the things on top go as well,” he said, gesturing at the various knick-knacks we used for staging the furniture. “Art on the walls as well. All of it.”
“Sure,” I said, not one to argue. My commission was going to be huge. It would even make a large dent in the money needed to get my dad’s car!
I finished marking down the bedroom sets, and we went through everything else just as fast. He looked the options over, sat down on a couch here and a chair there, then started rapid-fire saying what he wanted. It was the easiest, fastest, six-figure sale I’d ever made in my ten years of working at Simmonds.
“Is that everything?” I asked as he scanned the store.
“Yes,” he said. “When can you deliver it?”
“It’ll take multiple shipments,” I pointed out. “But we can probably have the first one out there next week?”
“Too long,” he said. “Two days. How much?”
“Ahhhh.” I didn’t have control over the shipping schedule. I couldn’t just shove everyone aside to make room for him, even if I wanted to. Which I did. “Let me check.”
“Figure it out, and let me know,” he rumbled. “Give me the cost. If it’s reasonable, I’ll pay it.”
“Can do. Or, at least, I could if I knew how to let you know, Mr. …”
He started, looking almost abashed. “Where are my manners? My name is Torrent, but please, call me Tor.”
“Mia,” I said, though it was right there on my nametag if he’d forgotten from the auction. I stuck out my hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Tor.”
He grinned as I said his name and reached out, taking my hand. Instead of shaking it, however, he brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of my palm, sending little sparks of electricity down through my body.
“The pleasure,” he purred, “is all mine.”
I struggled to regain my composure. “Well, Tor, if you’ll just fill this out, we can move on to the next step.”
I somehow managed to go through the rest of the payment process without losing my mind in a swirl of lust or anything else.
“Thank you for your help today,Mia,” he said on his way out, tormenting my mind and my sopping cunt with the way he said my name, the letters dripping from his tongue.
“No problem,” I said tightly, hoping there was enough charge left in my vibrator becauseholy fuckwas it going to get some heavy use tonight!
Then he left, and I sat down in the nearest chair with a massive sigh. I could see one of my coworkers, Monica, staring at me with a huge shit-eating grin on her face, but I didn’t have it in me to deal with her. Not right then. I needed several moments to collect my dignity and calm the throbbing between my legs.
The front door tinkled again, but I didn’t look up. It was someone else’s turn.
“Mia.”
I looked up to see he was back. “Tor!” I said, shooting to my feet, worried about the frown on his face. “Is something wrong? Did we forget something?”
“No,” he said, looking out in the parking lot, then back at me. “The car.”
