Chapter 7
“I Like Me Better” - Lauv
Pierce
I hear their raised voices as soon as I step off the lift. Maeve’s I know well enough, but it takes me a few seconds to realize it’s her father she’s arguing with. Their words become distinct as I approach her office.
Call me a dog who doesn’t like anyone else playing with his toys, but no one gets to talk to Maeve like that. I open the door and am immediately met with Lord Wilson’s bulk. The man is a bloody giant. Next to him, his daughter looks like Tinkerbell.
I fake enthusiasm at seeing him, because the man has an ego the size of Wesbourne Palace, but angle my body so I’m between him and Maeve. “I think a rebrand is the best option for the project.” I don’t look at her as I say this, but I can feel her surprise.
The lord’s smile grows even wider and takes on a knowing glint. “Now, mate, you don’t need to say that just to keep her happy.” He gestures toward Maeve as though she’s nothing more than a yapping terrier. “She might not be thrilled about it, but she’ll do what you tell her to.”
My fist tingles with the need to punch this guy directly between the eyes, to watch the lights flicker in them as he struggles to maintain a grip on consciousness. “Actually, I value Maeve’s opinion. She’s incredibly smart and talented,” I say instead.
He laughs, and the sound is so loud, I hear Maeve start behind me.
“Believe me, I know. She’s my daughter, after all.
But you and I both know she has a hard time admitting when she’s wrong.
” He tosses Maeve a smile, like he just paid her a compliment, before continuing. “But she’s promised to cooperate.”
God, I want to smother this guy. I place my hand on his burly chest and pat it a few times. “Don’t worry. I thrive under patriarchal oppression.”
Lord Wilson doesn’t have words immediately, and I’ll admit, it’s a nice change. Finally, he sputters something about the two of us working something out and excuses himself. Only after the door clicks shut behind him do I turn to Maeve.
“Your coffee, ma’am.” I hand her the cup.
Her brows are knitted together as she takes it from me. “Did you mean that?”
“Which part?”
“About the rebrand.”
I sniff a laugh and cross my arms. “Of course not. I was just helping you save face.”
An unamused look settles on her face as she takes a sip of her drink. “Asshole.” Then she blinks a few times and stares at the cup in her hands. “What is this?”
Shit. Is it possible there are two dark-haired hellcats who frequent that shop and scare its patrons? “Your coffee, as requested,” I say.
The frown settles itself on her face again, kicks back in an armchair, and turns on the television. “How do you know how I take my coffee?”
I wink at her, knowing it will aggravate her even more. “What kind of assistant would I be if I spilled all my secrets?”
“You’re about to be a dead one if you don’t tell me.” She sniffs the coffee. “Did you put anthrax in here?”
I snap my fingers. “Darn, now I’ll have to come up with a different backup plan. I assumed the cow’s milk would do the job.”
Her eyes grow wide as she lowers the cup to the desk. “Did you—?”
It’s the fear in those depths that gets me. “No, of course not.” I soften my tone and shake my head. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
The concern wrinkling her forehead tells me she doesn’t know this, which only compounds the sick feeling in my chest faster than the interest on my offshore accounts.
“I wouldn’t,” I say again, praying this time she believes it. I would rather get caught in a street fight than actually hurt her.
She nods but doesn’t pick up the coffee again. “Ready for your next task?”
“As I’ll ever be, Your Highness.”
She cuts me a glare, but there’s a gleam sparkling in those dark eyes. “Great. Then you can go get rid of that stupid hot-air balloon.”
* * *
If Maeve thinks taking her shopping is the key to breaking me, she doesn’t realize how many girlfriends I’ve escorted to these exact stores.
The chairs outside the changing rooms are practically conformed to my shape.
Still, there’s a night-and-day difference between being with a woman who hates your guts and one who wants to jump your bones.
Not that I’d be opposed to getting it on in one of the fitting rooms, but I hardly think that’s what Maeve had in mind when she ordered me to accompany her.
We’ve been here since early afternoon, after she had me running all over creation to do her bidding this morning, which included instructions for disposing of the giant hot-air balloon filling a storage room in her basement. But what she doesn’t know won’t kill her.
While she was trying on the first dress, I told the shop assistant to put whatever Maeve wants on my card.
There’s something satisfying about buying shit for a woman.
Their faces light up, and they get all gooey-eyed, as though they weren’t expecting that exact thing.
It’s a great way to prime the pump for later, so to speak, although I’m under no impression it will have that effect here.
I glance down at the shopping bags surrounding my feet.
When Maeve discovered that I’d already paid for everything at the first store, she simply blinked at the clerk a few times before waltzing out the door.
She’s been snatching things up left and right ever since.
If she thinks she can reach my limit by maxing out my cards, she severely underestimates the size of my bank account.
She also underestimates how much fun I’m having buying things for her, but that’s just one more thing I have no intention of her discovering.