Epilogue #2
“For what?” His voice was soft, a hint of confusion in it.
“For everything.” I traced circles on his skin, thinking about how much he’d given me, how much we’d grown.
“Joey, you had something to do with it too,” he said, his tone serious. “I was stupid and arrogant.”
I placed two fingers over his lips. “It’s forgotten. And I have something for you.”
He frowned. “But Christmas isn’t for a few weeks.”
“I had the deed to the mansion transferred to your name. It’s already been filed.”
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
I chuckled, enjoying his confusion. “Because it’s yours. And without a prenup, I’ll get it from you in the divorce.”
He laughed, pulling me closer. “Sweet Josephine, you’ve got more money than me. I’d be asking for alimony.”
I giggled, resting my head on his chest. “Good thing we’re never divorcing.”
“Damn right.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “We were made for each other, even if we took the backroads to get here.”
He was right. We’d taken the long, winding road, but in the end, we found each other. Even with our complicated family history, this—us—was what mattered.
“Ready for round two?” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.
I grinned, already feeling my body stir in response. “Always.”
The End
If you enjoyed the mental and physical sparring between Vaughn and Josephine, check out Tamed. The chemistry between Lincoln and Erika is off the charts.
It annoyed me to no end when agents didn’t respond immediately to potential offers.
I wanted this sale so badly I could taste it.
I was already planning a vacation at the end of summer with my earnings.
Real estate was usually quiet during the warmer months, but not lately.
I was drowning in clients, but Mrs. Ducane was my big fish right now.
I grabbed my scotch and went back out to the terrace, plopping onto a blue chaise and stretching out my legs. Drops of condensation dripped onto my black t-shirt as I sipped from my glass, and I absently blotted at them with my hand.
Things in my life were just the way I wanted them, aside from the current deal I needed to close. I had plenty of money, a fabulous apartment, and a bevy of women to choose from to share my bed. Life was good. All I needed was for Erika to get back to me with a yes.
I placed my glass on my forehead, hoping the cold would help quell the pounding behind my eyes. The headache had settled in, making every sound feel like a hammer striking my skull. Just as I started to feel a bit better, my phone rang. I fumbled with it, managing to answer on the third ring.
“Lincoln Elliott,” I answered, trying to sound as authoritative as possible.
“You called? This is Erika Bramwell.” Her voice was sexy and sultry, but there was an edge to it that immediately rubbed me the wrong way.
“I’m inquiring about the Fifth Avenue property in the Grayson Building,” I said, keeping my tone businesslike.
“You have an offer?” she asked, her voice almost mocking.
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “Thirteen and a half.” The moment the words left my mouth, I had to pull the phone away from my ear as Erika burst into laughter.
“You’re joking,” she said between giggles.
I frowned, annoyed at how unprofessional she was being. “I’m making an offer, so why would I be joking? My client doesn’t want to negotiate.”
“You are aware that property was just discounted?” she countered, her tone dripping with condescension.
“I am, but I can only make the offer based on what my client wants,” I replied, struggling to keep my irritation in check.
A loud crunching sound suddenly filled the receiver, forcing me to pull the phone away from my ear again. It felt like I was being punked. My headache throbbed harder, the beating in my head intensifying.
“I’ll present the figure,” Erika finally said, her voice taking on a snobbish tone. “But I highly doubt my clients will be interested, especially with no negotiation.”
“Please give me their lowest. Maybe I can talk my client into negotiating,” I suggested, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. The crunching continued, pushing my patience to the limit. “Do you mind?” I asked, my voice tight with annoyance.
“Mind what?” she responded, feigning innocence.
“Don’t you think it’s unprofessional to eat while we’re discussing a property?” I asked, the frustration evident in my tone.
“Not at all,” she said casually. “I didn’t eat all day, and this is my downtime.”
“An early day?” I forced a smile, though I was anything but amused.
“Hardly. I have a showing at 7,” she replied, dismissively.
“Does that mean I’ll have to wait to present back to my client?” I asked, trying to gauge how long this would drag on.
Erika snorted. “I doubt they’ll even entertain anything for you to get back to your client with. Your offer is a lowball.”
“I agree, but it’s not my money. Are we done here?” I asked, tired of her attitude.
“I’ll call my clients and get back to you,” she said curtly.
“Fine. Thank you,” I replied, ready to end the conversation.
One last colossal crunch echoed through the phone before Erika hung up without so much as a goodbye.
What a bitch, I seethed internally, finishing off what was left in my glass before setting it down next to me.
The sun was now glaring directly into my eyes, so I closed them, hoping to block out the world for a moment.