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What in the hell?
I frown in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“You should. I used small words.”
Why this old bastard…
“Are you insinuating that I’m stupid, Mr. Swagger?”
He says nothing. Just stares at me with this hard, stoic expression. His attempt to make me feel inferior awakens my pride. My pride fuels my anger. My anger charges my words. And my words spew from my mouth before I can stop them. “I asked you a question, Mr. Swagger. I’d appreciate an answer.”
His brow twitches a tiny bit. The movement is so miniscule, I might have missed it if I wasn’t studying his face so hard. “Your southern accent is genuine. As is your pride.” He takes a seat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs—crossing his legs like a lady might, yet he makes it look so masculine. “That couldn’t have come cheap, but I’m sure you’re worth every penny.” He lifts his glass to me as if he just gave me a compliment or some shit.
“He’s not paying me.”
“Did he pay you to say that, too?”
Something is going on here. There are a number of reasons as to why I haven’t quite figured it out—exhaustion. Dehydration. Flu-like symptoms. Shitty day. But I’m collecting pieces of the puzzle. And I’m pretty sure the mysterious, missing Miss Sims is a—
“If you’re not here because Jake hired you, then why are you here?”
Because I broke into his house. Got kicked out. Set a bag of dog shit on fire. Went to jail. Called Jake’s office. He thought I was Miss Sims using my given name. Sent someone to get me. Discovered the truth. And now I’m waiting on Cam to finish finding his hired help to take me home before Jake kills me.
He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who wants to hear all of that. Besides, he’s kind of a judgmental asshole, and I’m not sure how many more of his insults I can take. “How long do you have?” I ask, stalling until I can think up a believable lie.
“Long enough, Penelope.”
I wither under his stern gaze. And melt a little because he remembered my name. Which is kind of sweet. Already I start to forgive him for being such a butthole.
The door to Jake’s office opens and I’m saved from the truth. And graced with another view of his naked torso.
“Grandfather.” Jake gives him a quick nod before drinking me in. His perusal slow. Real slow. Like cream rising on clabber, slow. Pouring peanut butter, slow. In a nutshell, Jake Swagger—the young, hot one—is looking at my naked arms, legs and the top part of my bare chest like his grandfather isn’t even in the room and he has all the time in the world.
Did I mention that his slow gaze is hot, too? Like fire hot. Lava hot. Throw-me-on-an-open-flame-until-I-disintegrate-to-ashes hot. His look suggests he wants to eat me. It’s all I can do not to rip this towel from my body and spread myself open on his pristine white couch like a Sunday morning Shoney’s buffet.
“So this is the girl, hmm?” Grandfather asks, a hint of something I can’t decipher in his tone. “She’s a far cry from the women I’m used to seeing you with.” I flush at his…compliment? Maybe? “I’m impressed. She’s charming. Polite. Genuine…”
Jake straightens a little and that glint of slow fire fades from his eyes. “And you discovered all of this in less than five minutes?”
Grandfather stands and pulls at the cuffs of his jacket. “I don’t believe it’s been that long. Which is why I’m impressed. In the same given time I’ve spent with the women you usually surround yourself with, I come to much different conclusions. They’re entitled. Selfish. Rude. They’re...overpriced whores, Jake. And everyone knows it.”
Another puzzle piece slides into place.
Jake pads across the room—barefoot—to the decanter and pours himself a drink. Do these people not know it’s only eight in the morning? “I’ve never been one to care about what anyone thinks. You should know that by now.”
“Nevertheless, the gesture is appreciated.”
“Yeah? And what gesture is that?”
“That you would be so kind as to go to such extreme lengths to hire someone who could actually pass as a lady.”
Jake snorts at that.
I want to flip him the finger. And remind Grandfather, again, that I’m not being paid. But he speaks before I can.
“You may not care about what anyone thinks, Jake, but your actions reflect on all of us.”
“You mean you.”
“Precisely.” Grandfather glances over at me with a hint of a smile on his face. But his eyes are still hard. Still cold. I bet he has some evil in him. And his look along with the standoff between these two powerful men, has my writer brain going crazy.
Jake probably works for his Grandfather’s company. Grandfather is retiring. Wants Jake to take over the company. Do things his way. Jake has other plans. But he can’t act on those plans until he’s President. Which means he has to do whatever his Grandfather says until he’s released from his metaphorical hold. Even if that means being someone he isn’t. Which is probably why Jake is an asshole. Why he’s hardened himself against his true feelings. He’s really a nice guy, but he has to be a dick to appease his Grandfather so he doesn’t look weak.
