His Dirty Bargain (Dirty Billionaires 3)

“What?”

He pauses, and I fight not to laugh. “What’s taking so long?”

“I’m emailing you now. I would have hit send in less than forty-five seconds. I have everyone scheduled for ten on Monday. I already have a charity coming today to clear out the furniture for donation.” I’m doing it now, it totally counts. “I’m keeping the piano, for now.” I hit send on the email, then bring up the website for the charity for their phone number.

“Fine. Lunch today, at the house. We’ll eat there and go over paint colors. I want the dining room and living room done immediately.”

I don’t bother arguing. “Fine, what time?”

“One, we’ll take my car and driver.”

“One, downstairs, I’ll see you then.” I hang up before he can say anything else. My head goes down into my hands. Screwed, I’m so fucking screwed. As annoyed as I was at his call, the sound of his voice had my whole body coming alive, electrified and scrambling for more. This is going to be a long three months. Maybe Enzo’s right, and it won’t take nearly that long. I can hope.

***

Enzo

Pauline starts my day off in a huff. “You didn’t tell me about the whole home buying thing. Why did you tell me you had a meeting and not that you were off looking for homes?”

“I wasn’t aware it was any of your concern. It falls under Karen’s jurisdiction.” Karen is my housekeeper-slash-lifekeeper. She takes care of the cleaning, ordering of clothes, personal bills, groceries and all the other minutiae of my home.

“Everything to do with you is my concern. You bought a house.”

“I did. It needs work though. As the email detailed to Chloe made clear, she’ll be handling the remodel. Make sure she gets my schedule weekly.”

“Are you going to be nice and let the woman do her job, or are you going to be an ass?”

I shrug. “She does her job well, I’ll behave. If she doesn’t she’ll get what she deserves like any other person I deal with.”

Shaking her head, Pauline slaps the file she’s carrying on my desk. “I like her. You make her cry, I take a week off.”

Pauline takes time off all the time when she’s mad at me. When she’s off because she’s pissed, I still send her work and she handles it, just at home where she can’t reach out and smack me like she wants to. “She’s not the crying type.” I have no doubt with sustained pressure, Chloe Hutchins would break. I’m also fairly sure she would follow it up with either a verbal smackdown of epic proportions, or a physical one across my face.

“How would you know that? What did you do?”

“She’s fine. Ms. Hutchins can take care of herself. Cancel my reservations tonight. Send something to Ms. Ryan with my regrets.”

She rolls her eyes. “Something shiny or flowers?”

“Flowers, I won’t be calling her back to reschedule.”

“Good.”

My morning crawls until I get the notice from the front desk Chloe is in the building. I can’t believe she comes in so late; at least it means she’ll be able to check in on the work at the house before she comes into the office. After I send several texts, I wait for an answer, only nothing comes. I give up and try to focus on work except I check my phone and email every few minutes, wondering when the hell Chloe is going to respond.

Frustrated at her lack of response, I give in and call her. I can’t believe her curt answer of, “What?”

This woman. I demand lunch without any plan for it. I’m annoyed, wanting to put her in check, but as I hang up I experience no satisfaction. I didn’t put her in check, I put my ass in check for the need to see her again, unwilling to wait until Monday. Sending a text to Everett, I let him know when I’ll need him. One last call to settle lunch delivery allows me to turn my full attention to work.

***

Chloe

I step out onto the street outside the building to find a car waiting with the engine running. A man gets out to open the door, nodding at me. Enzo is inside.

“Sorry, I got caught on the phone with a client.” I’m all of two minutes late. Okay, it’s not Enzo I hate, it’s myself for getting all weak at how close he is. He’s in a black suit today, with a pristine white shirt and a black tie. Men everywhere wore it on a daily basis but on him, I can’t think of anything sexier. That cologne he’s wearing is worth a thousand dollars an ounce; I’m pretty sure it’s part liquor considering the way it sinks into my blood, leaving me dizzy, intoxicated. Enough, you can’t do this every time. I stare resolutely out the window, but it doesn’t work, every breath I take is full of him.

“Glad you could tear yourself away,” he rumbles. That works, just keep him at his asshole best.