Page 6 of The Innovator

“Why are you calling me mister all of a sudden?”

She’d always addressed me as Grayson before. I hadn’t requested that she address me differently.

“Umm . . . sorry. I assumed you preferred it.” She inhaled a breath. “Grayson, I just wanted to let you know that the software representative would like to meet with you next week regarding the contract.”

For fuck’s sake. I didn’t want to meet with anyone. I wanted to be left alone. What was wrong with everyone?

“Tell him I’m all booked up. Have him meet with the real estate and financial teams. The terms of the contracts stay as is. If he wants to move, that’s his decision. I can replace tenants immediately. That building has a prime location, and he knows it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me know how the meeting goes.” Just because I wasn’t present didn’t mean I had no interest.

“Will do.”

“Reiterate that we aren’t budging with the numbers.”

“Yes, sir.”

Suzanne hung up the phone, and I leaned back into the chair. My body was sore for some damn reason. I hadn’t entered the gym in a month, and my body was screaming for me to return. I needed to get my motivation back.

“Why am I surrounded by incompetent people?” I seethed to myself.

The conversation added to my irritation, like a sweaty T-shirt clinging to my already crabby body. I wanted to press a magical button to obliterate the entire world, leaving only a small portion to myself.

Another curse flew out of my mouth.

A noise drew my attention to the doorway. Natalie stood there holding a cup of coffee, an appalled look on her face.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Someone made you mad by asking questions?”

I could hear the disdain in the forced courtesy. It fascinated me that I could read her mood. Could she read mine? She probably heard me cursing, which explained her disgusted reaction. Or maybe something had annoyed her prior to coming to the conference room.

My frustration had to do with family matters. What was hers?

She wore a pink top with khaki pants and no makeup. The blonde hair piled into a bun at the top of her head made her look like a flower growing out of a crack in the sidewalk—something unexpected, something that didn’t belong. Despite that, there was something about her that intrigued me more than women wearing lots of makeup. Maybe it was because of her persistence. Most women—even men—would have stopped bothering me after I told them I didn’t have time for them.

But not her. Not this wildflower that seemed to have more to offer.

About twenty minutes ago, I’d declined an invitation from Maggie, the city’s solicitor, to a “cock-tale” tonight. A year ago, I might have answered that call, but things had changed now.

Besides, I wasn’t interested in Maggie, even if she was a fiery redhead. I didn’t want to be in any relationship, which was why I had ended things with Gisele. She’d been the first girl to last six months. Boredom often set in for me, but this time the reason was family drama and my need for solitude.

Right now, Natalie wasn’t dressed for attention, yet she had mine. My interest stemmed from her disdain for me. Other women didn’t respond to me like she did. But then again, they didn’t have to work with me directly. She knew my sharp edges and didn’t shy away.

The staring contest between us broke when she walked in and placed the cup of coffee on the table, but not in front of me. She wanted me toworkfor it.

“I should have known you’d demand coffee from the commissioner.” A disapproving undertone coated her words.

I can play this game with you, buttercup.

Rising from my chair, I reached over, grabbed the cup of coffee, sipped, and placed it back down. “What’s wrong with demanding coffee? A man who knows what he wantsdeserveswhat he wants, right?”

She eyed me from across the table, and my skin tingled for some damn reason. Maybe this third cup of coffee wasn’t a good idea after all. Since when did my skin tingle?

“Did I say there was something wrong with demanding coffee?” Her blue eyes narrowed. The heat of them singed my skin. “If you must know my opinion—and it’s onlymyopinion—I think men who know what they want cangetwhat they want on theirown.Especially if it’s something easy, like coffee. Right, Mr. Wu?”

Mr. Wu. How I’d love her to scream that in my bed. How she addressed me provoked an entirely different response than when Suzanne had called me that.

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