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But nothing goes the way I intend.
Georgina blinks like she’s waking up from a trance. She moves away from my embrace, her face falling behind a mask of loathing.
Shit.
“I don’t buy this,” she spits at me with renewed vigor. “Any of this. Your lame apology, the story that I’m helping you with your campaign. I call bullshit. And if you ever send flowers to my office again, I’m going to write a long piece about how you’re pathetic, desperate and a hypocrite.”
Anger floods my veins, but not toward her this time. Toward myself. I’d let myself get in too quickly, too intensely. I forgot that while Georgina was obviously attracted to me, she still possessed that superhuman ability to hide behind her shell within a mere second.
She could even do it faster and better than Icould.
If I ever wanted to succeed at seducing her, I’d have to outpower that ability of hers.
And to do that, I have to stick to my plan. No matter how attracted I am to her.
I shove my hands into my pockets, maintaining eye contact. “I get it,” I say, calmly. “You don’t believe a word I say. But you should believe this. I want to buy your magazine. It has nothing to do with you or what you write. Hell, you can keep on writing all of your articles. But…”
“I’d rather die,” she says. “You must think I’m a bloody fool. If you let me criticize you while working for you, you will win. Everyone will think you’re a great guy; you even let your employees criticize you without firing them. They’ll want your brother to win the election.”
“Well, maybe if I’m willing to let you talk shit about me while working for me, I’m a great guy after all,” I say, a tiny smile on my face. It’s a struggle to focus on the conversation after being that close to her.
“You’re not,” she says, as though it’s a world-renowned fact.
I pause. Theodore and his infuriating campaign team are right. She hates me for a deeply personal reason.
I still can’t bring myself to care much about that, but I am mildly intrigued. Still, I’m going to stay focused on my plan. I don’t need to know why she hates me so much.
All I need to do is show her why she could like me. And will like me.
Georgina is a tough nut to crack, the toughest I’d come across. But I’m nothing if not persistent.
“Okay then,” I tell her, flashing another innocent smile. “I won’t buy the magazine.”
She raises her brows, and there is a hint of relief in her eyes. “Really?” she says, derision in her voice.
“Yes,” I say. “If you go on a date with me.”
CHAPTER6
GIGI
“He’s crazy.”
As Andrea helps me zip up my dress, I notice her rolling her eyes in the mirror. “Thank you for being open-minded, Gigi,” she says. I begin to respond, but I'm momentarily speechless as I gaze at the dress. Andrea had given it to me as a gift, and it's absolutely breathtaking. The sleeveless blue gown has a beaded bodice and a silk skirt that flares out just above my knees.
It looks amazing,” I say, closely examining the dress and wondering how much Andrea had spent on it. We had always had similar incomes and shopped sample sales together, but since her honeymoon, I have noticed a change in her wardrobe. As the wife of a billionaire, she could now afford to skip the sample sales and shop at high-end stores like Bergdorf.
“Well,” Andrea shrugs, “you said you weren't going to spend a dime on this date, so...”
Raising an eyebrow, I ask, “Is that so wrong?” I put my hair in a messy bun and glance at my nearly makeup-free face. Andrea had insisted on getting me a dress and shoes, but I put my foot down on the rest of my appearance. Yes, I had to go on this date to save my job, but I didn't have to look like I wanted to be there.
“Gigi,” Andrea says when I turn away from the window. “I know you are dead set on your opinion and never think you might be wrong, but I’m asking you to consider that this guy might not be a monster. I hated Ian when we first met. And now…” she giggles happily, “it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.” She reminds me of my mother whenever she speaks of my father and her affection for him.
“That’s different,” I say.
“How?” Andrea asks.
“Because Ian was not an arrogant, horribly irritating man,” I tell her. She opens her mouth to say something, but I keep going. “Why do you think he’s asking me out and trying to be nice? Because he’s trying to get me to stop writing those articles.”
