Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
K nocking distracts me from the tattoo I’ve been drawing for the past hour. It is a sleek design I’ve been working on for a long-time client. Although he doesn’t have much prime real estate left on his torso for my artwork, this piece is just as important to him as the numerous other tats I’ve placed on his skin.
When I hear another knock, I slide the sheet of tracing paper to the side and check my watch. My lips quirk when I notice it is a little before one in the afternoon. Considering the shop doesn’t open until two-thirty, I ignore the eager patron.
All my best-laid plans go straight to the gutter when the tapping grows louder and louder. Once it hits a point I’m no longer capable of ignoring, I push back from my desk and march to the door. I clasp the stainless-steel door handle, preparing to unleash a verbal tirade on the moron who can’t read the hours displayed in thick red ink on the eye-level sign hanging from the door. My plan goes to shit for the second time in under a minute when I swing open the door and am smacked in the face with a rich floral scent.
“You really need to get your hearing tested. I’ve been knocking for ages,” Clara says with her heat-scorching eyes blazing into mine. “Are you going to let me in?”
I nearly step to the side before reality pummels into me. This wasn’t our plan. “What are you doing here?”
She freezes. “You said I have a two-week trial,” she replies with her icy-blue eyes bouncing between mine.
“Yeah, Tuesday at two.”
Her eyes roll skywards. “It is Tuesday, Brax.”
I only just hold in my surprise that she knows my name. I shouldn’t be shocked, though. I’m sure she spent her entire weekend digging for dirt on the guy she’s playing tricks on.
“Yeah, it is Tuesday, Princess, ” I say her nickname with the same disdain she said mine with. “But it isn’t even one yet. You’re way too early.”
Her brows furrow. “My brother previously told me being early shows you appreciate the opportunity bestowed upon you.” Her hands fist the fabric on her jacket before she stammers, “I appreciate the opportunity.”
After leaning against the doorframe, I cross my arms in front of my chest. “First job?” My deep voice only just conceals my laughter. “How old are you?”
She smooths the crinkles her determined hold created in her jacket before locking her eyes with mine. “I’m twenty-five, and yes, it is my first job.” Her tone is full of warning that this subject is not up for further discussion.
Deciding it is too early in the week to engage in World War III, I remark, “Arriving fifteen minutes before your shift will be more than adequate to show your appreciation.”
Clara briefly nods before asking, “So can I come in?”
Her eyes narrow when I shake my head. “I’m assuming that’s yours?” I gesture my head to the white BMW convertible parked in prime position at the front of the shop.
A ghost of a smile creeps across her plump lipstick-covered lips. “Yes.”
“Then you need to move it. There’s an employee parking lot located at the back of the shop.”
Her eyes rocket to mine. The gleam brightening her gaze from absorbing her expensive pride and joy dampens as the seconds tick by. “Is the parking lot secure?”
I throw my head back and laugh. “No, but it is where all employees park their vehicles.”
“Then my car is fine where it is,” she snaps out before crossing her arms under her ample chest.
“If you think your ride is safer parked in the street in clear view of thieving eyes than the parking lot, Princess, you’ve underestimated this side of Ravenshoe. No gangbanger will dare touch your precious pride and joy if it is parked at the back of Inked.” She snarls, baring teeth, either hating my use of her nickname or me calling out her stupidity. Either way, I don’t care. “If you’re planning on walking into this premises as an employee, move your piece-of-shit car into the parking lot. If not, have a pleasant evening.”
A winning grin stretches across my face when Clara rolls her arms in front of her body like she’s curtseying the crowned Prince of Denmark before she walks backward. She just needs to remove the crown from her head and place it on mine, and her performance would be more realistic.
Smirking, I nod when she points to the alley at the side of the shop after unlocking her car doors. “Down the alley and around the back.” She rolls her eyes at the arrogance of my reply.
“I’ll meet you at the employee entrance,” I add, rubbing more salt into her freshly cut wounds .
Not waiting for her to reply, I close and lock the door of Inked and head to the employee-only entrance at the back of the shop. I still can’t believe Clara McGregor—Princess-Fucking-Socialite—wants to work at Inked. I took a bit of time the past two days running our prior confrontations through my mind. Other than hitting a late case of teen rebellion, I’m at a loss as to why someone like Clara would want to work at Inked, let alone anywhere. It honestly doesn’t make any sense. Just her tennis bracelet alone is worth more than my annual salary, and her pride and joy I just insulted no doubt cost more than my apartment.
But even knowing she has more money than sense, I’ll follow through with my pledge. Why? Because I’m a man of my word. I’ll play along with Clara’s little ruse for as long as she wants as I doubt she’ll last a few hours, let alone a few days.
After snagging a spare key for the back door off the key rack, I push open the heavily weighted steel door at the back of Inked. Like a shadow I can’t shake, Clara is standing under the rusted awning waiting for me.
“The lock can be a bit stiff, just jimmy the key a little, and it should pop right out,” I instruct while pinching the key between my index finger and thumb.
Clara snatches the key out of my grasp and cocks her brow. “Why give me a key if you want me to jimmy the lock? Seems like a pointless task.”
Ignoring her cattiness, I continue as if she never spoke. “You should also consider removing your bling. It doesn’t fit in around here, and it will only lead to trouble.” I clutch the diamond pendant dangling around her neck and hoist it into the air.
She snatches the pendant out of my grasp. “You should consider removing your attitude because it doesn’t fit in around here,” she snips under her breath.
I smirk. “Will it be like this the entire two weeks? I say something, and you fire back with a bitchy comment?”
“Depends,” she replies with a shrug.
I glare into her stern eyes. “On what exactly?”
“On if you keep saying stupid things.”
I back her into the outer wall of the shop and press my hands on each side of the brickwork next to her shoulders. The veins in her neck thrum, but she maintains my eye contact, trying to act as if my intimidating stance isn’t affecting her. “If you want to work here, you need to lose the attitude. If you can’t do that, I suggest you slide your pretty little ass back into your pretty little car and drive your stuck-up princess routine back to the pretty side of Ravenshoe. Because that side of town may see your hard-ball approach as determination, where I just see it as a spoiled little bitch hiding behind a pile of money.”
Her lips thin into a hard, disapproving line. “I’m just giving as good as I’m getting, Brax,” she replies after locking her challenging blue eyes with mine.
I’ll give it to her. This time around, she’s got me played. I’ve given her just as much attitude as she’s been bestowing upon me. So much, I’m certain if my grandmother ever catches wind of my interactions with Clara, she’ll have my head placed on the guillotine block.
She’s quoted numerous times during the past twenty-eight years of my life that, “No matter if they’re richer than a queen or poorer than a struggling artist, every woman has the right to be treated with dignity and respect.”
But I can’t help it. Clara riles me up. Not just my hackles but my cock as well. The first half of my weekend was filled trying to work out what her deal was. The second half was spent striving to release the stranglehold her feistiness placed on my cock.
Just like I came up stumped on why a socialite like Clara would want to work at Inked, nothing could ease the throb of my cock. Not even the pretty little blonde with icy-blue eyes I picked up last night.
For some strange, unknown reason, my cock has set his sights on a little temptress with a scornful mouth and even more sinful lips. I can’t say I don’t understand his fascination. Clara is so much of a sexpot she only needs to breathe to excite a red-blooded guy. Just the way she’s staring up at me now, panting hard with her painted lips pursed, makes her so tempting all I want to do is wipe the sass right out of her mouth with my fucking tongue.
Knowing that will never happen, I drop one of my hands from the wall and scrub it over the few days of scruff on my chin. “I don’t think this is a good idea. This agreement isn’t going to work.”
My cock is already aching to sink into her, and she’s only been here for five seconds, so imagine how bad it will be in an hour?
Clara releases a long breath while crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not going anywhere until my trial is over. I may not have signed an official employment document, but a verbal contract is just as binding as a written one. Believe me, I checked.”
“Then I’ll pay you two weeks of salary, and we’ll call it a day.”
After glaring at me, she slips under my arm and saunters into the shop like she owns the place. Her shoulders are straight, and her head is held high as she slings off her jacket and hangs it on the coat rack before heading to the foyer. For the first time in her three visits to the premises, she’s standing on the opposite side of the counter. “Are you going to show me where everything is? Or am I going to figure it out on my own?”
I grit my teeth and take three steps toward her. “Did you hear anything I said? I’ll pay you your two weeks owed.”
“Yeah, I heard every word that spilled from your lips, Brax. ” She spits my name out like it is a piece of trash. “Unlike you, I don’t have any concerns about my hearing.”
“Then why are you still standing in my foyer? I’m a man of my word. I’ll follow through on my agreement. You’ll get your money.”
She places her hands on her hips and stares me straight in the eyes. “You agreed to give me a two-week trial. I’m here to begin my two-week trial. I’m not a charity case.” Her words come out shaky during the last part of her statement. “Now, are you going to show me where everything is? Or am I going to figure it out on my own?” she requests again, glaring at me.
I stare at her, looking like a slack-jawed idiot. I’ve never had someone with enough gall to spar up against me on my turf before, let alone a woman my cock wants to wrestle with beneath the sheets. Even giving her a stare that would make most men cower, she doesn’t yield the slightest. If anything, her determination strengthens. She came here to start her two-week trial, and she isn’t leaving until that happens.
Realizing that arguing with a woman like Clara is utterly pointless, I eat humble pie before spending the next thirty minutes giving her a general rundown on how the shop operates. I explain how she will be left in charge of booking all the appointments, taking clients’ payments, and pretty much doing anything the crew requests her to do.
She’s quick, but I don’t miss the tiniest flare of anxiety that crosses her face when I mention she has to do anything the crew demands.
“Other than Charity, the rest of the crew won’t be overly demanding.”
She nods as she follows me to the hallway.
“Charity can get a little handsy, but don’t let it bother you. She’s harmless.” I stop talking and run my eyes over Clara’s body. “Although, for you, she may be extra grabby.”
The spark of worry tainting her face explodes into a full flare .
“If it gets more than you can handle, holla, and I’ll have a quiet word with Charity.”
Her throat works hard to swallow before she shakes her head. “It’s okay. I can take care of myself.” The shakiness of her words undermines the strength of her statement.
When we enter the manager’s office, I take a seat behind my old scratched-up desk. “If you stay out of my hair, I’ll stay out of yours. Then this arrangement might work out for both of us.”
An uncharacteristic smile spreads across Clara’s face. Although she looks out of place in my small, poorly furnished office, the careful consideration she paid while I explained her position shows she isn’t walking into this job lightheartedly. Surprisingly, she appears as if she actually wants to be here. Unsurprisingly, her smile has the front of my jeans tightening.
My body’s reaction to her pisses me off. Not because I’m ungrateful my cock appears to be back in working order but because the goal it is striving for is unattainable. I hardly know the woman standing before me, yet she already has me wanting to cross out the number one rule I swore I’d never break when I signed on as a partner at Inked.
Never mix business with pleasure.
The fact she already has me wanting to break my rules pisses me off more than the hardness in my jeans.
After she finishes absorbing the outdated office space, Clara connects her glistening eyes with mine. “Where’s my desk?”
I laugh while pushing my chair away from my desk. “There’s only one seat in this office, Princess. So you either take my knee, or…” My eyes stray to the faded red couch pushed up against the wall.
“The sofa it is,” Clara fills in, moving toward the couch.
I have a feeling this will be the longest two weeks of my life.