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“For the same reason a lot of women do. Soon, I’ll be taking your father’s company. How long do you think it’ll take before your family’s fortune runs out? Doesn’t that scare you?”
“No,” I repeat. “That’s not going to happen. My father—”
“Yes, it will. Neither of you can stop the inevitable from happening. The contacts we’re meeting in Vegas are long-time business associates of mine, and there’s nothing you’ll be able to do to steal them away from me, which is why it doesn’t bother me to bring you along.”
I open my mouth to fire back in my defense, but he keeps going, cutting me off.
“Honestly, if I were you, Margo, I would probably just quit now and work on finding a wealthy schmuck to marry. You’ve got a nice ass and decent sized tits, so I’m sure you won’t have a problem securing a cushy future as long as you don’t mind fucking some old, ugly motherfucker.”
I grip the armrest of my seat and dig my nails into the cream-colored leather. It takes everything in me to not jump up and smack the ever-living shit out of this man.
I take a deep breath and count to five in my head before I blow the air out slowly through my nose. This helps me refocus and not fall into the little game he’s playing with me.
I swallow hard. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I would much rather spend my time figuring out ways to take you down.”
“Suit yourself. But I’m warning you, Ms. Buchanan, I don’t play fair.” There’s a wicked gleam in his eye, and there’s no telling what he’s planning to do to torture me, but I have to be ready for any move he tries to make.
My father is counting on me to figure out a way to save his company and my family’s future.
Alexander
NO MATTER THE TIME OF day, the lights in Las Vegas are always putting on a show. The limo pulls up to the Hard Rock Casino, and I glance over at Margo as the driver stops the car.
She hasn’t said much to me since our heated little discussion. Every time we talk, I seem to piss her off, which is exactly what I want to do. I want to become the itch festering under her skin that she’s dying to scratch. The more she hates me—the more she’ll think about me and how much she can’t wait to be rid of me.
So why do I feel like a bastard and have this urge to apologize?
I shake my head to purge myself of the crazy thought. I need her out of my fucking hair. Her presence distracts me, and that’s not good. I need a clear head for business. This weekend is going to be pure torture.
The minute the driver opens the door, I step out and then turn with my hand out to assist Margo. My eyes dart down to her sexy long legs, and I wonder if she knows how much she turns me on with those damn skirts she flits around in all the time. I wonder if she does it intentionally to drive me out of my fucking mind. The whole naughty businesswoman look she has going on works well for her. Even when she wears those little black-rimmed glasses, she’s still hot as hell.
We’re immediately greeted by a short, pudgy man wearing a black suit with his black hair slicked back like he’s a 1940s mobster. “Good afternoon, Mr. King. My name is Coleman, and I’ll be your personal concierge during your stay. Allow me to escort you to your room.” After a quick snap of his fingers, two bellhops rush to the back of the car to retrieve our luggage before following us into the hotel.
The elevator doors ding before opening, and I stop myself from placing my hand on the small of Margo’s back. I cannot allow myself to touch her because whenever I do, strange things happen to me. The last time we touched was in my office when she grabbed my cock and told me that I was the one who was fucked. She rattled me. I hadn’t expected her to do that so it threw me off for a brief moment. But now that I know what she’s capable of, I won’t allow her to ever gain the upper hand again. I have to be careful and keep her at a distance.
Silence surrounds us once we’re shut inside the tiny space and begin ascending, but it’s not awkward. Either Margo and I are doing our best to ignore one another or we’re at each other’s throats. There isn’t any middle ground between us where we can just be casual. Diem’s right. We can’t go on like this. I need to work on being friendlier. Having her favorite things on the plane was a small start, but I’m going to have to step it up a notch and dial my personality down a bit. The last thing I need is to fight with this woman in Yamada’s presence. He’d have a fucking field day with that shit. I don’t need him thinking that she has the upper hand in this situation.
The elevator dings and Coleman smiles. “Ah, here we are. Right this way to the Provocateur Suite.”
Margo’s shoulders stiffen as she halts in her tracks. “What happened to the Paradise Tower Penthouse that I booked?”
Coleman frowns. “We emailed you earlier this morning to notify you that the Paradise Penthouse would be unavailable for your stay this weekend. Our last guests . . . well, let’s just say they put the room out of commission for a bit. It’s in desperate need of repairs, and since this was a last-minute booking, I’m afraid the only penthouse that we have available for your duration is the Provocateur Suite.”
Margo shakes her head, causing her black curls to bounce around. “You can’t honestly expect me to stay there with my boss. I didn’t mind sharing a traditional penthouse, but this is unacceptable.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Buchanan. Like we explained on the phone at the time of your reservation, this weekend we have several major events and conventions, and we are completely booked.”
