You’ve got a hard on for rich old men
This is the wrong time to read the damn article. Not as the woman—undoubtedly Mina Blake, my interior designer—heads my way, calling a polite “Good morning, Mr. West!” over the roof of her car.
Distracted, I return the greeting as another text comes in.
Dom
She even insinuates you’re Bruce Wayne, building a lair out on a secluded cove
Which isn’t a bad look for you
We can work with this
Villains are popular nowadays
A choked laugh grinds up my throat. A lair…
That woman has no clue who I really am.
My phone rings with a call from Dom as Ms. Blake crosses in front of her car to introduce herself, hand extended, an unsure smile casting shadows in eyes so blue they put the sky to shame.
Seriously. How does anyone have eyes that blue? Especially with hair so dark and silky it’s like midnight melting…
Fuck. Thoughts like that are off limits. I’m not doing the dating thing. Hell, I’m not even doing the one-night fling thing, especially not with someone who’s clearly hurting for money. Not after Blossom.
And if all that wasn’t enough to get me to hard fucking pass, she’s my interior designer. Business and pleasure do not mix, never mind my newly appointed villain status.
“I’m Mina Blake and I—”
“I know who you are,” I bark as I decline Dom’s call, then immediately feel bad. It’s not Ms. Blake’s fault Dom can’t stand to be ignored. It’s not her fault Fallon fucking Mae needs to get her head out of my ass. It’s not her fault I’m too hungover for any of this. I hold up a hand in apology. “I’m sorry, I—”
My phone rings again, another call from Dom. He won’t give up until I hear what he has to say. If there’s any hope of focusing on this meeting—
“I have to take this.” I storm out of earshot from Mina before answering the call. “What?” I grind out through a jaw so tight I’m lucky my teeth don’t crack.
“You read it yet?”
“No time. I’m ten minutes late to my meeting to plan the Bat Cave.”
“Come on. You have to admit, that’s pretty funny.” Dom laughs to prove his point.
“There’s nothing funny about being serially misrepresented by this woman. Villain era? Really?”
“You can’t let stuff like that get to you, brother. You know what they say about publicity, and Fallon fucking Mae has that covered for you.” Dom sucks his teeth. “You meet your dream team yet?”
“I was just incredibly rude to my interior designer, if that counts. Thank you for that, by the way.”
“What’s she like?”
I pause and glance over my shoulder to find Mina glaring daggers at my back…and talking to herself again. She doesn’t seem to be a Nathan fan, though she does have this gutsy, effervescent quality to her. Like she never met a situation she couldn’t find her way out of. She seems a lot like someone I’d like to know better. But Dom doesn’t care about that. I give him the details he’s fishing for.
“Cheap clothes. Cheaper car. Pretty face. Great body. She’s talented too,” I add, to mitigate the guilt of reducing a human being down to a superficial checklist of finances and physical attributes.
“So, she’s in a bad financial situation, not afraid of work, and she’s hot. Basically your Kryptonite.”
“You’re mixing your superheroes. I’m Batman, not Superman, remember?”
“What you need to remember is don’t date down. If you learn one thing from Blossom, let it be that women like them see you as a paycheck. Not a person. A paycheck.”
That is exactly the lesson I learned from my ex. Hence my resolve to focus on work.
“Not everyone is Blossom.”
“More are than aren’t. Mark my words. Your hot little interior designer will say something about ‘a man like you’ or ‘a person in your position.’ She’ll make it clear she sees you as other within the first ten minutes of your meeting.”
Blossom used to say it all the time. A man like you should get what he wants. Like I’m somehow better than the rest of the world. Why? Because I have money?
It felt like a manipulation. Like she was trying to pull a sleight of hand by soothing an ego that doesn’t exist.
“Gotta go,” I say to Dom. “Thanks for the heads up about the article.”
I end the call and shove my phone in my pocket, then stroll towards a man in tight jeans and a T-shirt that begs someone to acknowledge his gym time. The man named “One to Watch” by Architectural Digest for five years running glances up as I approach.
He shakes my hand. Firm grip. Likable smile. “Benjamin Bancroft. It’s great to finally meet you in person. As I said in the group chat, this site is brimming with potential.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Bancroft,” I reply as my phone vibrates like a goddamn buzzsaw in my pocket. Probably my family complaining about me dragging our name through the mud when they really should be tracking down that awful journalist and talking to her.
I refocus on Bancroft, slipping off my sunglasses and hooking them into the neck of my T-shirt. “The body of your work speaks for itself,” I say, mirroring his smile despite my raging headache. “I can’t wait to hear what you and Ms. Blake have in mind for my new home.”
My phone stops alerting me to texts and switches to calls as Ms. Blake arrives beside me. Her hand’s extended. Her smile is plucky, like she refuses to be ignored, kind of like whoever the hell is blowing up my phone.
“Mina Blake,” she says and damn it, if my phone doesn’t stop ringing, I’m going to throw it in the ocean. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. West. And yeah, this site is amazing.”
I pull out my phone, glare at the slew of notifications, and silence the damn thing before I shake the woman’s hand. “Ms. Blake.”
She’s beautiful.
I mean, you know, in an everyday kind of way. Softer than the rail thin socialites Dom flirts with night after night. Ebony hair glistens like onyx in the sunlight. She’s overdressed for the occasion in a pair of tailored black pants and a delicate white top that hugs her chest every time the wind whispers through. The outfit looks worn, though well cared for, like her car. Money’s tight for Mina Blake. Her face is guarded, but her lips twist into a mischievous smile when she glances at Benjamin.
“I am so excited to work with someone as talented as Mr. Bancroft. Especially on a project like this. This is basically a dream come true for me.” Mina’s eyes meet mine, sparkling with enthusiasm, which should be a point in her favor, but after my conversation with Dom, I’m afraid they’re sparkling with dollar signs.
“You mean a project with an unlimited budget.” I shoot her a scathing glance that’s really meant for the Blossoms of the world, then swallow hard, preparing an apology, but Mina speaks first.
“An unlimited budget will let us flex our creative muscles to your heart’s content.” The temperature of her voice drops several degrees. “A man like you deserves to get what he wants.”
A man like me…
Fuck. Dom was right. Five minutes of conversation and there it is.
