11 #2
Arrogant ass. I never actually said yes to the date. And apparently, I’m interesting enough to spend a Tuesday with, while the Michelle Allards of the world, everyone’s type, gets him on a weekend.
Be cool.
Big client. Most interesting project ever. Senior architect title. Get the fuck out of Bradshaw Brown.
Leave your emotions out of it.
“Sorry, busy Tuesday,” I say more bluntly than I intended.
“Wednesday.”
“Perhaps the team and I could arrange a working lunch?” I smile helpfully. “We can do it in Canary Wharf, near the office. I’ll talk to your PA. I’m sure the partners and Max would love to attend.”
His forehead creases. “We’re back to playing this game? Okay, next Friday or Saturday night if you’re busy during the week.”
“I can’t do next weekend,” I reply flatly.
His eyes narrow a fraction. “What are you doing that’s making you so busy?”
I’ll be answering my phone to all the guys you pimped me out to.
“Running. I’ve got a really intense training schedule for the marathon over the next few weeks.”
“Okay. No dinner. We can run together to not interrupt your schedule. I can come to your area.”
“I can’t focus when I’m running with other people. Perhaps best to leave it.”
His dark eyes burn into mine in silence for a heated moment. “That must make your running club awkward.”
Shit. I forgot I told him that.
“Fine,” he says in a measured tone, a slight tick in his jaw. “I guess I misread everything.”
He goes to walk away, then turns abruptly.
“What was last night? You were flirting with me. If you’re not interested, why?”
Feeling cornered, I go on the defence. “I’m a bridesmaid—we’re supposed to be nice to the guests. Maybe I wanted to make the other groomsmen jealous,” I blurt out.
His eyes blaze. I get flashbacks from the hot tub of when he fired the poor guys.
“I see,” he growls. “You did a fantastic job. Very realistic.” He turns then stops again. “By the way, Danny is not remotely interested in you, so get that out of your damn head.”
Mouth hanging open, I watch him storm off before letting me respond. Jerk!
“Bonnie,” a small voice calls from inside the car. “Get in.”
I pull open the door to the driver’s side and slump into the seat. “Did you hear all that?”
“Yup, although I must have heard it wrong because it sounded like you were blowing Jack Knight off. What the hell?”
I’m too tired to give her blow-by-blow details. “He asked me out last night when we were dancing. This morning I overheard him talking to some other guy about how he wasn’t interested in me, and then he gave the other guy my number.”
“He asked you out?” she shrieks. “Holy shitballs.”
“So?” I scowl. “Didn’t you hear the rest of the story?”
She waggles her brows. “He wants to share you with another guy. Maybe you could form your own harem.”
I roll my eyes.
“Why on earth did you imply you were making Max jealous?”
“I got flustered.” I exhale. “He thinks he’s God’s gift. I suppose I want to bring him down a peg or two. And.” I pause. “Maybe it’s partially true.”
“When he said the comment about Danny Walker, it looked like you could cook bacon off your face.”
“Great,” I mutter dryly.
“Did you flirt with him?”
I wince. “I may have rubbed up a little against him. It’s not the best networking strategy I’ve ever had. But I’m only human and look at him , for Christ’s sake.”
“But you hate the guy.”
“I don’t hate the guy,” I say sullenly. “I just think he’s a ruthless bastard.”
“And you’re still attracted to him?”
“I’m sexually attracted to him. Some inmates are attractive too, you know. They get really buff in prison. Doesn’t mean they’re good people.”
She nods. “I’d like to have sex with Darren, and he disgusts me. He’s a real hottie to look at, but it’s kind of unsexy when the guy is bad at his job.”
I get it. In my first year at Bradshaw, watching Max work was sexy. Max is a great architect. But she’s right, Darren is the laziest guy at Bradshaw Brown.
She smiles slyly. “But Jack, he seems pretty good at his job. He’s not doing too bad for himself, is he? Must be doing something right for seven billion pounds.”
“I suppose.” I sniff, not accepting her bait. “Right, let’s get the show on the road.”
“Bonnie, by the way . . .” She pauses. “I heard Becky talking about getting Jack’s number. So maybe you should forget it.”
That gets a snort. “Come on, Nisha, as if I thought anything would actually happen.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
So, I really am just the other bridesmaid.
“He called me a Viking.”
“A Viking? Like a big angry hairy ginger man?”
“Exactly.” I tut. “The guy’s a dick.”
She hums in agreement.
“When did, uh, Becky tell you she got his number?” I ask casually.
“ When you left me at breakfast this morning. She told the funniest story. She said she met him wandering the hall at 3 a.m. She thought he was sleepwalking or drunk because he looked dazed. Then she noticed he had a raging hard-on the size of a tree.”
“What?” I turn my head to look at her. “They hooked up?”
“Apparently not. He said he was getting something to drink and went back to his room.”
“The guy was just walking the halls of the castle, hard ? How messed up is that?” I slump in my seat, secretly relieved. “But he asked for her number?”
“She got his number this morning. Sorry, I didn’t ask for the details.”
Sounds like Jack is giving out numbers left, right and centre.
She studies me. “You know who Jack Knight is. And as much as I want you to get back in the dating game, it’s probably not the most strategic move, shitting on your own construction site.”
“Don’t be silly.” I scoff, starting up the engine. “I know the score. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
Yes, I know who Jack Big Dick Knight is.
Men like him get pissed when their pawns don’t move around the board as they order. What they forget is that if a pawn moves fast enough, she becomes a queen.