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I lean back, dig my heel into the floor. From the corner of my eye, I see Ritz sitting on the coffee table licking his paw, rubbing his face. I move ahead with my sales pitch, struggling to remember all the details of what I wanted to say.
“I know the app is new but you’ve only got about eight or nine thousand users. Not a bad start but I work in the real estate market, and my mother has deep and wealthy connections that extend to L.A. and Canada. I know a lot of people who can help me take it to the next level, blow it up and find users in other countries. And as you know, the more users there are, the easier it is to get that ad revenue. I can come in as an investor or I could purchase it outright. Just name the cost. And to answer your rebuttal from earlier, I can work around whatever issues might arise from transferring the developer account.”
There. That should intrigue him at the very least. If he’s not champing at the bit to get more kids on his app, he’s got other motives.
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “You’ve done your homework.”
“Yes.”
“What you don’t know is how much we’ve already poured into developing the app, with long-term plans.”
“Which is precisely why I’m willing to come in as an investor. If you’ll just arrange a meeting with your partner.”
Ben closes the gap between us, standing so close I can feel the heat of his breath. “And I told you it’s not going to happen. I make the financial decisions. So I can discuss investing with you. But before that, let’s discuss the real reason you invited me here.”
I stand my ground, pushing down the unease that’s settling in my gut. “I already have, Ben.”
“Women don’t invite men to their apartments to discuss a business deal dressed the way you’re dressed.”
“I’m not like most women,” I say, pressing my hand to his abs, noticing they’re hard as steel and thinking there’s no way this is the same guy I was chatting online with yesterday.
His lips quirk and a deep laugh bubbles up his throat. “Oh, I’ll bet you’re not.”
My heart thuds a few times. Our stares remain locked as I silently swear that I won’t let him get to me. He’s trying like hell to peel back my outer layer and expose my weakness. But my weaknesses are buried in the deepest part of me.
I’d sooner die than show an ounce of weakness.
After wrapping his monstrous fingers around the back of my neck—softer than I would have expected—his thumb glides over my throat, up my chin, moves with horrifying softness across my lower lip.
“Give me a little taste of that whisky,” he whispers, staring at my fake mole.
Nausea roils through my stomach and my fingers crawl along the counter until I find the blade of the knife I left out to slice the new round of blue cheese. I lift it and press it to his wrist, forcing him to flick his eyes to the side. With the sharp edge of the blade against his arm, I push up slowly, moving his arm out of the way.
“You can’t have whisky without tasting a chunk of this Rogue River. It pairs perfectly with The Macallan and multimillion dollar business deals.”
I keep the knife gripped with my best poker face. Ben takes a few steps back and I internally curse the dab of sweat breaking out on my upper lip. I turn to the side, grabbing the round block of blue cheese and stabbing the knife through the center, bringing it down and cutting out a hunk. I pull the piece off the end of the blade with my teeth then stab another hunk, passing the knife in his direction, a calm but disgusted look on his face.
I wish I had my camera aimed at him right now.
“You seriously want to drink and eat cheese andtalk? What kind of woman are you?”
I bring the cheese to my mouth, chew on it while thinking … what kind of womanamI? “The kind who has a shitload of money and cares more about her kids than dick.”
His body stiffens and I’m ready. Ready for whatever he’s about to try. I know I’ve backed myself into a tight corner, both literally and figuratively. He could pin me against this kitchen counter and do whatever he wants. But I won’t go out without a fight. I can at least partially gut his ass before he takes whatever he thought he was coming here to get.
This is the life I chose for myself when I decided all the men my mother came close to selling me to should die. So, in an indirect way, this is the life she chose for me.
Thanks, Mom.
Bottom line, I won’t stop until I find out where King is. I need Ben alive more than I want him dead right now. But I don’t need that enough to sleep with him.
Not yet anyway.
“I’ve got places to be. Have fun with your cheese and shit.” He waves his hand, then turns on his heels to walk out.
I huff and roll my eyes before speaking. “Walk out that door and I’ll tell every single parent whose kid uses your app what a disgusting womanizer Benjamin Figueiredo is.”
He freezes in place, turns to look at me, snarling. “You’llwhat?”
