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I sigh.
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Not telling you, "She says.
I am inching closer, like my motive is to talk. But I am stalking, waiting for the moment when I can overtake her. My fingers toyed with the key to unlock the cuffs that secured her to chains.
“Well, how are we going to put in it the media if we don’t know what it is?” I ask in my smoothest tone. “Jack Houston, by the way.”
“Who?” she asks.
“Jack Houston, Red Hawk Realty,” I answer. “I own this place.”
“Brynne Casey,” she retorts. “I own this place.”
I tilted my head, clothes in hand, pausing to think about what she said.
“Honey, you never owned this place,” I say. “I bought it from a guy named John Mair, and he owned it for decades, starting before you were born.”
“My uncle,” she says triumphantly. “I am his heir. You made that deal when he was incompetent.”
That gets my attention. That’s a serious charge, and if Brynne can make it stick, I might be screwed here. I stay calm, but my face has become red and flushed with nerves. She’s gotten to me. That’s not easy to do. I will try to return the favor.
“Girl, you’re naked on display in front of a gaggle of construction workers and my film crew,” I say.
“Film crew?” she squawks. “I didn’t give you permiss-”
That’s all I let her say. I envelop her with my arms. I outsize her by a foot and maybe eighty pounds, but she is a hellion. I pin her long enough to fit the key in the cuffs. But she is fighting me tooth and nail, and I can’t get them unlocked.
“Where did you get that?” she asks.
“They make more than one,” I whisper in her ear.
“Figures you’re a perve,” she hisses, writhing in my grip. “Carrying around your own handcuffs and key.”
“You have no idea,” I growl.
The film crew shooting a promo for my investors now has their lenses trained on the two of us. She looks in their direction.
“Smile for the camera, Jack,” she says victoriously.
I reflexively turned to the crew and eased my hold around her.
“Gentlemen. No more filming for the day. You can take off,” I say, seeing all my wealth flash before my eyes.
I could lose everything I own with one lousy photo op. All it would take is one opportunist to publish a shot out of context, and my life would never be the same. As the saying goes, you may as well stick a fork in it. My career would be done.
I step back, Brynne and I aiming our best steely stare at one another. I slay business deals for breakfast, but this one gives me a hard time. We are getting nowhere.
“Look,” I say, trying to appeal to her rational side if she has one. “I turned away a very expensive construction crew to listen to what you have to say. That’s gotta count for something.”
“That the amount you’re paying a team to wreck my entire life is equal to the price of the Calypso?” she asks.
I wrench my face up.
“That doesn’t even make any sense,” I say. “I bought this property for the land, not the building. It looks like a carnival ride. There’s nothing here.”
Now, I am wearing thin like Rory had. There’s a vibe of futility. Both Rory and I are men who like to get things done and move on to the next task. I am losing patience with Brynne’s tenacity.
