Chapter Five
Magnus
W ell fuck. I make a memo to fire Georgio the moment I get back to the office, but instead, I settle on non-verbal communication in the form of a fierce glare.
Georgio starts, then smooths a hand down his tie, and looks at little Zoey. “Boss Lady.”
I almost groan. I’m surrounded by idiots.
“The rain drag you out of the hole in the ground you slither about in?” she asks, cold and fierce and dripping with sarcasm.
For a little thing that’s got the biggest bleeding heart I’ve had the misfortune to meet, she’s got balls. And claws. I’m impressed against my will.
I almost want to let him put the hard lean on her, or the buttery goodness of a sweet offer, but would Magnus Simpson do that? I’ve decided Magnus with his old gran is made along similar lines to her, except he’s grounded in reality, from this planet. Zoey? I got no fucking idea where she hails from, but it isn’t planet Earth.
But right now, I think since I’ve done pretty much the bare minimum of competent work, I need to ingratiate myself to her. I figure I might work on undermining the business from the inside—that is, when sweet little Zoey isn’t doing that to herself—while also presenting as something like a knight in shining armor.
I know Georgio well enough to know he’ll follow my lead, and I did ask him to stop by today, but I thought I’d be long gone and I didn’t expect him to come out in the torrential downpour that makes yesterday’s rain look like a tiny sun shower.
I step up and place myself half between them. “I can handle this for you,” I say.
But Zoey puts her hand on my arm and damn if I don’t feel her touch all the way down to my dick, and she shakes her head, her wild black curls bouncing and catching the light. “I can do it. But thank you.”
“You sure? It’ll be my pleasure to escort the thug out.”
Georgio looks a little hurt at this. “Just doing my job.” His gaze skitters past me to her. “You’re gonna be selling up, anyway, so I’m suggesting you take this deal.”
“I don’t respond well to threats.”
“Hear that?” I say, “she doesn’t respond well to threats.”
“It wasn’t a threat.”
“It was,” she says, all kinds of indignant.
“The lady begs to differ.”
“The lady’s got a screw loose,” Georgio mutters under his breath and I can’t argue with that.
Zoey’s hand tightens and she comes up close, her breasts brushing against me and they’re soft and warm and fuck, now I’m imagining them all naked. Like, are her nipples small, or big? The areole a sweet, soft brown, or pink? Or maybe a dark rose and silver dollar size and… that is not helping my dick out at all. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about her tits. I need to get laid is what I need, and her lovely palm-sized breasts aren’t on my menu. I like them—not hers.
“I do not. I just don’t want to sell and there’s no law that says I have to.”
There isn’t, but given time I’m sure I can pay someone to make one up. But underhanded is one thing, downright illegality is another and doing that definitely plays with illegal and I pride myself on keeping things on the right side of the law. I don’t give a fuck about the nitty gritty of morality, but law, yeah.
Besides, I’m not sure she’s going to sell unless I can find a way to do that as Magnus Simpson.
“It’s not about the law, it’s about being smart. My boss is a hard man—”
“He’s the devil’s younger brother and twice as ugly,” she says, “and I really don’t care. He can try whatever. I’m not selling.”
“Do you know how much this place is worth?”
I stare at Georgio. He did not just say that. Next time, I may as well give him a gun so he can damn well shoot himself in the foot for real.
His eyes bug at the expression on my face and it’s a good thing sweet smelling, soft Zoey can’t see me. “I—I mean,” he says, “The project. You’ll be paid well.”
“You can offer me the Taj Mahal, but I’ll turn you down.”
“What she said,” I say. “Maybe you should go, talk to your boss. See what he has to say.”
“I’ll be back.”
And Georgio stumbles back, grabs the umbrella, and rushes out into the downpour. A huge crack of thunder accompanies his exit.
Zoey squeals out a delighted little sound and rushes round to stand in front of me, her eyes shining. Like that, smiling, she’s exceptionally lovely. And then she throws her arms about me, hugging me tight. “Thank you.”
I’m so shocked by this armful of warm female I wrap my arms about her. Fuck, she feels good. She has long legs and it’s like she fits. The heat of her melts down into me and there’s a flicker of arousal inside, a lick of flame.
“Oh my God.” She pulls free, breathing hard, her face red. “I’m sorry… I didn’t. I shouldn’t. I hugged you.”
Zoey says this like she tried to hump my leg.
“I noticed.”
She buries her face in her hands. “I’m the worst boss. I wasn’t harassing you sexually.”
“You can.”
She lifts her head and for a long beat neither of us says a word. But Zoey’s shock and confusion melts into humor and a smile and she laughs. “That’s a joke. Not that I thought it wasn’t. I shouldn’t have hugged you.”
I touch her shoulder, a little shocked I want to draw her back and hold her again, or trace the lines of her mouth to see if it’s as soft and inviting as it looks.
I definitely need to get laid.
“It’s fine,” I say. “And I don’t feel harassed, sexually or otherwise. I’m a grown ass man and I can tell the difference between a come on and a hug.”
She breathes out a sigh. “I could have handled that, but you were pretty spectacular.”
“I’m sure you have men falling all over themselves to white knight for you.”
Zoey looks about. “Maybe they’re hiding or shy. No, no one, just me. But that was nice of you. That one only comes in when he’s wielding big guns and offers. There are actual thugs who threaten to make things hard for me. And others, too. Normally, it takes forever to get rid of them.” She pauses. “Weird how he called you boss.”
Yeah, real weird. We’re gonna have words, big, hard, harsh words, me and Georgio. “He called you the same.”
“Chauvinism. That’s what it is.”
“Calling you boss?”
“He never has before.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot as the storm rages outside. “It’s because you’re here. He thought you were somehow in charge, even though he knows my name’s on it. Ooh, I wish that coward Sinclair would show his ugly, fat face. I’d give him a piece of my mind.”
“You’d probably feed him cake.”
“I would not!” Zoey slowly smiles and starts to straighten up on the aisles facing us. I lean back against the counter as she does so. She has hummingbird energy. It fits her, delicate and robust, still and energetic. A certain kind of beauty to those movements as she hovers busily.
“Well,” she says sheepishly, “I might. I offered that oaf a cookie the first time he came. Ate it, too. Kept eyeing them each time. Except today. Probably shocked there was a man there. But! I’d only offer Sinclair stale cake.”
“Not poisoned?”
“I’m not evil,” she says, throwing a slightly evil look at me.
“Why not sell, Zoey? I’ve only been here a day, but you work hard and you said you own the building?”
Spots of color darken her cheeks. I know I’ve stepped a little too far. I need to reel it back in, take it slowly. Clearly, I’d prefer this settled now so I can concentrate on all the other steps, but we’re months from even thinking of bringing a building down. Still, I like to have everything set in advance. I have plans and time schedules set up and the way forward, the only way, is brutal efficiency and making sure things go like clockwork.
So, I may have to make underhanded moves like this to push it along.
Sure, it’s called underhanded for a reason, but I’m not breaking laws, and she’ll get over it.
Zoey will be crushed, but there’s always fallout. And it’s not like it will kill her. I’m setting her free from the shackles of thankless work for nothing, of no doubt scraping the bottom of the barrel to keep the fucking lights on.
Shit, I’d bet myself a million bucks she can’t afford to pay me, but I’m betting she also needs someone to help here. The taxes alone will be astronomical for her since she doesn’t have tenants. And this is classed as a business, so the majority of utilities will cost more, and I’m actually beginning to bore myself.
I shift my mind back to her, and how her ass looks as she bends to fix the books on the bottom shelf. It’s one sweet ass. Not big, but perfect to cup when kissing or fucking her against a wall.
And there I go again. Thinking of sex and Zoey and things that shouldn’t even go together in my mind.
But there’s something about her that creeps under the skin when a man isn’t looking and it’s probably called not being laid in over two weeks. I had to cancel a date because I was so damn busy with all this and I parted ways with the last regular lady with benefits I had on account she got the vice president job she wanted and moved to LA.
Great for Jane, seriously, but sometimes it’s good to have ease of access on tap.
Picking up isn’t an issue, but it takes time to find someone that I want, and Jesus, I’m sounding like my brother, Ry.
“I don’t want to sell,” she says, straightening up. “That’s giving in.”
“Is it? I’m not talking myself out of a job, just playing a little devil’s advocate, but you could buy three stores with what they’re offering.”
She frowns and comes toward me. “How do you know what they’re offering? I never said and Sinclair’s goon didn’t have any paperwork out.”
Fuck. Mr. Nice Guy here has a problem with his mouth, apparently. I don’t usually just talk like this with loads of free time. Because this isn’t a job, it’s fucking about. My days are jam-packed from six a.m. until nine p.m. most days. This… this is unlike anything I’ve ever done. I’m about making, not wasting, money. I don’t shoot shit and I don’t spend time in musty bookstores with pretty little pint-sized females whose hearts are way too big for their health.
I shrug and keep it deliberately casual. “He said it was a good deal or something, so I just assumed.”
She lifts a hand to her forehead and gives a small smile. “I’m just over it. I’m not selling. This place has been in the family for decades and… my heart and soul are soaked into these walls. People have always told me what I can’t do, or what’s better and easier for me, but you know what? I’ve never been happier than having this store. I think I already told you all this, or maybe I didn’t.”
“You can tell me anything.”
The real Magnus prefers slinking out of rooms when people get like this. I don’t enjoy it and I don’t have the time. I almost decide my fictional gran needs me, but it’s still snarling, fighting cats and dogs outside and besides, the fake Magnus would listen. Because the fake Magnus is going to get all the ammunition I need to bring her down.
“It’s hard, I won’t lie, keeping this place going, but it means so much and I’m so proud of it. I love it’s a nice little slice of history and that people can come here. I like that this is one of the last bastions of a dying old school Brooklyn. It’s not much to look at, but it’s mine.”
There’s no dramatic countenance in her words, or even some higher purpose. They’re just full of quiet dignity and love and steel.
“So nothing would ever make you sell.”
“I’d give a kidney if someone asked. And if someone absolutely, desperately needed money and selling this was the only way to save them, then I would. In a heartbeat.”
It’s wrong. I know it is. But as she says those words, it hits me.
Somehow, someway, little Zoey is going to sell.
To save me.
Or… fictional gran.
It would almost be delicious if it wasn’t such a diabolical plan.