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But if she really wants this, I can use her.
After a long pause, I finally nod my assent. “You can join me.”
She claps, looking delighted. “Great. I’ll grab my bag.”
“But not because of this little blackmail. I’ll let you join me because it means getting closer to you. Spending more time with you. Feeding my need.”
She pales. “I don’t really love that.”
“Too bad, princess. Orin, call for my car, and tell the men we’ll need extra muscle at the office. My wife will be joining me.”
“Right away, sir.” Orin hurries from the room.
I smile, already looking forward to this. “We’ll have fun.”
But Alisa’s clearly regretting her decision. “I doubt it,” she says, and follows me outside.
Chapter 25
Alisa
Liam makes me do paperwork.
We reach his office that morning, and the place is crawling with thugs. Guys in dark suits roam the halls, not even pretending to be anything other than armed guards. They treat me very respectfully as Liam dumps me in an office next to the conference room where he works, but I can tell they’re keeping a close eye on me.
“Permits,” Liam says about ten minutes after we arrive. “Make sure they’re correct.”
“Permits for what?”
“New locations. We’re expanding.” He turns to leave.
“Hold on.” I jump to my feet, gesturing at the pathetic room. “There’s barely any furniture in here.”
“This is the only office with a desk.” His jawline twitches. It’s obvious he’s annoyed.
“How in the world are you running a business from here?”
“It isn’t difficult.”
I roll my eyes, making an annoyed gesture around me. “Liam. This office looks like a freaking hostage situation.”
“And?” He cocks his head as if he doesn’t understand.
“Businesses are about perception.”
“I thought they were about selling things.”
His smug little grin pisses me off. “We both know that’s part of it, but there’s way more to selling things than just… making stuff available. You need to create an image.”
“Are you trying to brand my company, little wife?”
“I’m trying to make it so anyone you bring in here for a prospective meeting isn’t scared shitless. Liam, you realize people know who you are, right? They know your reputation. You should be doing everything you can to downplay it.”
He hesitates, clearly considering. “That’s not a terrible point.”
“You want potential partners to come in here, look around, and be amazed at how professional and put together the place looks. Even if it’s all bullshit. Get your goons to carry around folders. Put a few at desks, if only for when you have guests. Hire a freaking receptionist for out front.”
Liam clasps his hands behind his back. He watches me for a moment, and I try not to let my frustration show. I’m right about this—the office is totally creepy, and anyone that comes in here is going to be freaked out. It’s a small miracle he managed even one deal in a place like this.
But I know men like him. I’ve dealt with them my whole life. He can barely admit to being wrong, much less able to take reasonable advice from his wife.
“I will… consider it.” He clears his throat and I could roll my eyes. Instead, I keep it professional.
“Thank you. Also, along those lines, I’m going to decorate this office and order some supplies.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Oh, actually, it’s extremely necessary. I’m paying for it out of my own personal expense account, which you freely said is unlimited, so it’s not like you mind, right?”
He looks annoyed again. “You’d better be careful, princess.”
“Or else what? You’ll keep on pushing me around?”
“That’s right. I’ll push, and I’ll push, and I’ll push again until you’re down on the ground getting spanked.”
I finally do roll my eyes. “No, thanks. Is there anything else?”
He turns sharply. “Nothing. Though I suggest you remember the hierarchy here.”
“Noted. Forgotten already.”
He shakes his head and leaves. I plop back down in my ancient, uncomfortable office chair, flip open my laptop, and start shopping for something better to sit on that isn’t going to kill my back. Once that’s ordered, I dive into the paperwork.
Everything’s in order. There are only a few minor details to update—addresses to correct, phone numbers to change—but otherwise, things look good. It’s tedious, though, and kills about an hour. By the time I’m done, it’s already after lunch.
I head out into the main office, looking around. Liam’s still in the conference room, looking at his phone like he wants it to explode. I hesitate, thinking I’d head out and get something to eat at one of the nearby delis, but decide to check in on my husband.
“You look unhappy,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
He glances over. “Explain to me why these little bullshit nothing dispensary chain owners think they can simply ignore my calls?”
I try not to smile, but there’s something satisfying about seeing him knocked down a peg. “Who did you reach out to?”
