Page 22

It appeared I had his attention. He was listening, eyes fixed on me as I launched into my thought process out loud.

“Creating segments. Taking photos. Showcasing the people who make this place run. Giving back to the community—which, by the way, you should’ve been doing long before a scandal like this forced your hand.”

Colton growled, his eyes narrowing. “I do donate. I do give back to my community, for your information.”

“See,” I quipped, leaning forward with a smirk. “I would’ve known that if you had some kind of online presence.”

Colton scoffed and shook his head, no comeback. Checkmate.

Colton didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sat straighter, studying. For a moment, I thought he might actually agree with me—reluctantly, of course.

“I’ll give it some thought,” he said finally, his tone a mix of begrudging acceptance and guarded defiance.

“A thought? I’m here to do my job, Mr. Stone. You don’t get to veto my decisions regarding this matter.”

Colton’s jaw ticked, frustration tightening his features. Victory coursed through me, my smirk slipping into place—a cocky curl of my lips that I knew would infuriate him even more.

“As I said, I have the perfect person I want to train while I’m here.”

He leaned back slightly, his blue eyes narrowing. “Go on.”

“Tawnie.”

“Hell no,” he barked instantly, his voice a sharp boom of rejection. “She’s my assistant. Find someone else.” He waved his hand dismissively as if that were the end of the discussion.

“No.”

“What?” His head tilted, gaze cutting into me like a blade.

I stood, arms crossed over my chest. “I’m here to help, Mr. Stone.”

“Stop calling me that. Colton is fine.” His lips pressed into a thin line, his words a low growl, rasping with irritation.

The corner of my mouth curled higher, turning the smirk into something more dangerous. He was trying so hard to resist the way I affected him and that pulled me in deeper, urging me to see how far I could push him—professional line be damned. I stepped closer, placing my palms flat on his desk and leaning in just enough to make his breath hitch.

“Does it turn you on?” I asked, arching my back slightly, my tone barely above a murmur. “Did I unlock a new kink? Or is that something you’ve always found pleasure in?” I tilted my head, lashes batting with a challenge I knew he couldn’t resist.

His lips parted, and the flick of his tongue across the bottom one sent a shiver racing down my spine. My grip on his desk tightened to hold back the urge to swipe everything off the surface and coax him to fuck me, right here. Right now.

“You don’t get to come in here and make demands,” he said finally, his voice low and simmering with restrained anger. “This is my ranch, my work. Let’s set the record straight, Eleanor—everything goes through me. If I say no, it’s no. I don’t want back talk.”

I raised an eyebrow, biting back a laugh. “I thought you liked my ‘sassy mouth’?” I quipped, complete with air quotes, my tone dripping with defiance.

“Woman.” His voice low, holding my gaze.

If I looked down between his legs, I’d probably see the same reaction he’d had last night. This man was an open book, and I was having far too much fun reading him. Maybe Laney was right—playing with a grown man like a cat with its toy might be worth it after all.

“Look,” I said, reigning in the playful banter to drive my point home. “She’s young, she knows you, this community, and she understands this business well enough to stick to the vision you’ve so carefully created. Finding another assistant, which, let’s be honest, won’t be easy given your stellar people skills, isn’t the priority right now. The focus needs to be on rebuilding your brand, not fetching coffee and starching your jeans.”

Colton’s brow furrowed. “First off, I don’t starch my jeans.”

“No?” I asked, leaning a little farther over his desk, my tone dripping with mock innocence. “They look pretty stiff right about…there.” I pointed toward his crotch with a perfectly manicured, red-nailed finger.

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face like it might erase me from existence.

“Fine,” he snapped, his voice rough with frustration. “Just get out and leave me the fuck alone, Eleanor.”

I gave him a sweet, triumphant smile and pivoted on my heels, the sound of them clicking against the hardwood a perfect punctuation to my victory.