Chapter 6 #2
“No, I didn't get a chance. I was too busy sparring with the woman from hell, and her pink elf friend,” I mutter.
“Well, drive down. Driving is good for thinking. You always do your best work when driving. See you in a few hours, brother. Drive safe.”
The darkness allows my mind to wander, the roads clear and virtually empty.
What a fucking disaster. I run the conversation from this evening and previous ones over in my mind.
Could I have handled it better? Absolutely yes.
Would we have gotten to a different outcome?
Undoubtedly no. She’s not ready to sell.
Things have not quite reached rock bottom for her. But it won’t be long.
I’d checked into her ex and also former business partner.
I do my research before any potential meeting.
I’m not juvenile or amateurish about that.
I’d done a deep dive on the accounts of their business, Prestige Recruitment Ltd.
Gone right back beyond the split eight years ago.
She’d seemingly been the driving force of that company.
The revenues slowed as soon as they kicked her out.
They continued on, attracting business in, but not keeping it all beyond the inducement period ending.
And the simple fact remains—she’s not a direct threat to their business.
Isn’t competing with them on any level. There is no logical reason to systematically target her as they have.
So their actions must be borne out of petty emotions and jealousy.
To be honest, I’d met Terry, the former business partner. He was full of bravado and his own self importance. I got the impression her ex-husband was worse. I’d sought out Lord Langford before Christmas, and he’d spilled information freely about his now son-in-law—none of it complimentary.
Yeah I’ve got a pretty good handle on her life. She’s definitely between a rock and a hard place.
But in a weird way, so am I. What the fuck is wrong with me? Business is cold, hard, and black and white. It’s something we’ve schooled ourselves in as a family. We deal in logic and fact, not sentiment.
Yet for this business, in a weird way I find myself rooting for her.
I want her to continue, beat her ex at his own game.
Flourish and fly, be a success. But that won’t deliver her building into my clutches.
It’s none of my business if her business is going down the tubes.
I should be giving it a gentle push. Put it out of its misery.
It would be kinder than her having to face it later, probably having leveraged everything she holds dear to try and keep it.
Most people in that position end up losing their homes. Or at least having to downsize.
Fuck. Why does it feel personal when I think about her doing that? Even the pink elf. I don’t want her to have to suffer as well. Why? Why am I bothered?
You like her. You liked her fire. You liked her demeanour.
My mind is hitting back at me.
Under all that boring exterior, there is something else there. And you want to find out what it is.
Fuck, I do. I wanted to rip off that fucking silk blouse and let those tits loose. Way to go into the gutter, Greystone.
I huff out a laugh. I work with women everyday.
I don’t want to rip off their blouses. Never have done.
I have a no fraternisation policy at work for myself.
I have never dated anyone who works for me.
Fair enough, I’ve dated a few women whose work interests align with mine.
But they were partners in business, at the same level.
I’m very careful. But definitely never anyone who works for me.
And to be fair, I’ve never felt the same pull that I did with her at a business meeting. My mind never normally gets out of business mode.
But sat at that table, when her face was flushed from the wine and me pushing her buttons, my reaction was involuntary.
I fucking loved it. That’s why I walked away.
Before I dragged her across the table and ravaged her lips.
Shutting off the ridiculous barbs she was lobbing at me. That’s why I went ice man—I had to.
I wanted to push her up against the wall and kiss her until she couldn’t fucking speak. Set fire to that boring skirt, her black tights, and those comfortable shoes. Get a look at the goddess body that was hidden beneath it all.
Holy shit. This is not good. My brain has set off down a road without my body. Or maybe my body actually already beat my mind to it, and my brain was just now processing what it had been up to at that meeting.
I drop my head back on the head rest. I want Emma Lincoln.
And I can’t have her. She fucking hates me.
I’m the big bad wolf trying to devour her little world.
Well, I’m not actually. If she stopped to smell the coffee, she’d see I’m her knight in shining armour.
The devils are already inside the walls, her ex-husband working to bring her down.
Which seems crazy considering they have three kids together, regardless of being divorced.
Well I need to steer clear. That’s a shit show waiting to happen. I don’t do other people's family dynamics. I have enough on with my own crazy bunch. I don’t need to get mixed up, even inadvertently, in someone else’s—no matter how attracted I am to the woman.
Stay clear, Jude Greystone. Maybe I just need to get back to dating models, actresses and singers.
They’re generally so caught up in their own careers, mine bypasses them.
I just need to show up, look pretty, and be an arm ornament for them.
Then fuck their brains out at the end of the night.
That I could do. Have done. And we all went away happy.
No drama. Well, not much, but it was usually all very choreographed.
I’m thick-skinned enough to deal with it.
I know someone like Emma Lincoln is not in that camp. Even more reason to stay away.
I’m in my late thirties, have enough money to never work again, live a life surrounded by friends and family if I want it. But I have a responsibility to everyone I employ. I would never stop working for them. So why she’s bugging me, I have no idea.
Yep, red flag alert. Keep the fuck away. Let her sink. Get my agent onto a sale like a hawk. Keep it professional and at arms length, just another transaction. I’m good at those.
I grin into the night sky as the countryside flies by.
Jake will love that idea. Sofia, his daughter, will probably try to talk me out of it.
She’s got a romantic soul and is forever trying to set her dad up with dates.
She’s more of a meddler than my youngest brother, and that is no small feat.
She’s constantly trying to get me to go on dates with ‘normal people’.
Says I only go out with celebrities as they don’t want anything deeper from me.
I just laugh her off. But Sofia is a Greystone female, and was schooled by my sister.
Hounding and interfering are their specialities.
So if she ever gets wind of Emma Lincoln, I’m a dead man.