“Yes. Yes, you did.” I glance at the time and all I can do is laugh. “And now, I have to race across town to meet a client, showing up late and underprepared.”
A client I’m already on shaky ground with, thanks to a certain drunken text and embarrassing request on my part.
A client who agreed to help, but only after negotiating himself a sixty percent discount off my design fee.
A client who really is The Prince of Darkness. I shiver as the last bit of Mason’s sunshine bleeds out of my body.
Tad flashes me his most winning smile. “It’s a good thing I’m so amazing every other part of the day or you’d fire me, right Ms. Blake?”
“Oh, Tad. I could never fire you.” I pat his cheek. “You’re just too pretty.”
My assistant beams. “I love working for a woman who appreciates my strengths.”
I dash into my office and shoot Mr. West a quick text.
Sorry. Running late. Will be there ASAP.
I watch for signs of a response, but when nothing happens, I swipe my tablet off my desk, slide it into my bag, then head for the door.
EIGHT
Mina
The beautiful, cloudless day has turned my car into a sauna. It’s so hot, I can barely breathe and I’m sweating under my arms, my boobs, and at my temples before I make it out of the parking lot. I hit every red light on the way to Red Stiletto, which gives the air conditioner a chance to stop me from melting, but by the time I find myself seated across from a bristly Nathan West, I’m almost half an hour late.
He's wearing a black T-shirt that clings to his upper body and offsets the mahogany in his dark hair. The glint in his eyes skews a little more summer forest and a lot less thorns and brambles, an improvement over our first meeting.
I think.
The Prince of Darkness is hotter when he’s friendly and I’m not sure what to do with the way my lower belly clenches at the sight of him. Combine that with a dusting of scruff on the hard lines of his cheeks and jaw and I’m swallowing a sigh of appreciation.
Maybe I misjudged him at our first meeting.
Maybe he was having a bad day.
Maybe he deserves the benefit of the doubt and a little grace on my part.
“I am so sorry, Mr. West,” I say, breathlessly tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I assure you this is not typical of me.”
“Oh, come now, Hot Mess. I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before.”
And that might be the end of the grace I have for him.
If his snarky grin didn’t make me bristle, the stupid nickname sealed the deal. I’m willing to put our bumpy start aside. He should be too.
“And please,” he continues as if he didn’t just insult me, “call me Nathan.”
How can someone so pretty be this rude?
“I’d rather stick with Prince of Darkness,” I retort with a sweet smile, then drop my jaw, realizing I’m in a business meeting…
…with a client…
…and after showing up half an hour late…
…I insulted him.
I clamp a hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry—”
“Let me guess.” Nathan coolly arches a brow. “You can assure me this isn’t typical?”
He’s got me there and we both know it, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it to his smug face. After pausing to place my order—the cheapest salad I can find because this place is expensive with a capital E—I slide my tablet out of my bag. A quick flip through the screens brings up the project I put the finishing touches on last night. “This is my mood board for your build—”
Nathan’s eyebrows imitate a rocket trying to break through the atmosphere. “Mood board?”
Great. He’s one of those. A stick in the mud who rolls his eyes at all things creative. I bet he’ll fight me at every turn. Second guess every color choice. Every fabric recommendation. Ten bucks says he’ll struggle to grasp that the pictures I included are about the feeling and the vibe, not actual design suggestions.
Why hire a designer if you don’t respect the craft?
But, rather than firing off another insult, I refresh my smile and do my best to explain.
“You know. Images, materials, and text that evoke the feelings and design I think are best suited for your home.” I angle the tablet so Nathan can see the screen. “I’m thinking dark blues, soft grays, and warm browns. Take the richness of this library here and combine it with the serenity of this lake. And while your outward vibe suggested metal and glass accents like these—” I point to a picture of an ultramodern skyscraper next to a surprisingly pretty close up of barbed wire covered in frost “—there’s something about you that calls for this greenery here. Something fresh and alive and…”
I trail off.
Nathan’s just sitting there. He’s not nodding or making any sounds of agreement or understanding. He’s just…
…staring…
…his eyes hardening on the image of the barbed wire.
Really?
How did that offend him? Tell me he doesn’t think he’s a sunshine and daisies kind of guy.
I slide the tablet away. “If this is the wrong direction, I can scratch it. Start over with new ideas. New feelings. New everything if you’d like.”
“No.” He tears his gaze from the picture to lock on mine. Something intense swims between us. Something charged and uncomfortable and I like it better when his eyes look like thorns because whatever this is feels vulnerable and that’s not good. I’ve watched enough movies to know being vulnerable with the villain leads to heartbreak.
“I hired you because I heard you’re a hidden gem,” he says, the intensity increasing. “I just wasn’t prepared for you to see me so clearly after only one meeting.”
I furrow my brow, expecting a trap. “But…” I prompt as I lean forward and cock my head.
“But what? I like it. Approval granted.” Nathan waves a hand through the air. “Start shopping or designing or whatever it is you do at this point.”
“I honestly didn’t expect you to make things this easy,” I say, reaching for my water. “You seem more…”
Cranky. Controlling. Egotistical.
