Chapter Two #2
“No,” Sterling repeated in a conversational tone as if he were declining a coffee refill. “The proposal is rejected.”
“You didn’t even read the liability section,” Cassidy argued as her voice rose. “I found an insurance carrier who specializes in—”
“I read the bottom line,” Sterling interrupted. “You are projecting a four percent margin after six months of operating at a loss. That does not account for the overhead of feed, veterinary retainers, or the structural repairs this barn needs to pass a safety inspection.”
He tapped the folder with one finger.
“You are operating on sentiment, Ms. West, not logic.”
“This is a business strategy, not sentiment,” Cassidy snapped. “The resort needs amenities, and this proposal connects the ranch to the hotel. It adds value.”
“The land adds value,” Sterling said. “The animals are a liability because they consume resources. They require staff, and there is the risk of injury to guests.”
He leaned back in his chair and looked at her with terrifying, clinical detachment.
“The horses will be collected on Thursday and sold to a buyer in Montana,” he said. “I have already arranged for a transport.”
“A buyer?” Cassidy felt the blood drain from her face. “What buyer? The glue factory?”
“A riding academy,” Sterling said. “I am not cruel, Cassidy. I am efficient.”
His use of her first name jarred her. It sounded intimate and dangerous coming from his mouth.
“You can’t just ship them off,” Cassidy said, standing. She couldn’t sit still through the anger boiling over in her chest. “Some of those mares have been here for fifteen years. They know this land…and they trust me.”
“They are livestock,” Sterling said. “They do not have complex emotional attachments, and neither should you.”
“You arrogant son of a bitch,” Cassidy whispered.
Sterling’s eyes narrowed, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. He unfolded himself slowly from the chair, standing with a slow, deliberate movement that was far more threatening than any sudden lunge. He rose to his full height, towering over the desk.
“Careful,” he said softly.
Cassidy held her ground. “You walk in here in your three-thousand-dollar suit, and you think you can just erase everything? You look at a living, breathing animal, and all you see is a number in a ledger?”
“I see reality,” Sterling said. “I see a dying ranch that is drowning in debt and a woman who is working herself into an early grave trying to save a corpse.”
He walked around the edge of the desk.
Cassidy took a step back. “Stay there.”
Sterling ignored her and kept coming. He did not rush. He moved with the inevitable momentum of a glacier.
Cassidy took another step back, and her heel hit a metal filing cabinet behind her. She was trapped.
Sterling stopped two feet away from her, close enough that she could smell him again. That scent of sandalwood and expensive soap filled her nose and clouded her brain.
“You are emotional,” Sterling stated, looking down at her. “You are letting your panic dictate your decisions.”
“I am not emotional,” Cassidy lied. She pressed her spine against the cold metal cabinet for support. Her knees felt weak. “I am angry. There is a difference.”
“Is there?” Sterling took one more step right into her personal space, eliminating the gap between them.
He was so big. His chest was a wall of dark wool right in front of her eyes, so she had to tilt her head back to look at his face. He was looking down at her with a heavy-lidded gaze that she felt like a physical touch.
He was sucking all the oxygen out of the room. Cassidy stopped breathing.
“You are trembling,” Sterling observed.
“I’m cold,” Cassidy barely whispered.
“The heater is broken,” Sterling said without move away. “You can’t be trembling from the cold and flushed with heat.”
He was right. Cassidy felt the heat that had risen up her neck burning in her cheeks Her body was having a traitorous, humiliating reaction to his proximity. It had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a deep, fundamental awareness of his masculinity.
“Back off,” she said, trying to put steel in her voice. Instead, it came out as a plea.
Sterling did not back off. He raised his hand, and Cassidy flinched, thinking he was going to strike or grab her. He did neither. Instead, he reached out and placed two fingers against the side of her neck.
His touch was shocking. His skin was warm and rougher than she expected. Callouses on his fingertips scraped gently against her soft skin just below her jaw.
He pressed down lightly and found the pulse point where her carotid artery was hammering against her skin.
Cassidy gasped loudly in the silence. She should have slapped his hand away, kneed him in the groin, or drawn her knife from her belt.
But she did none of that—paralyzed by the sensation of his large, warm hand claiming her throat.
Sterling’s eyes darkened as he held her gaze. The pupils dilated until the blue was almost swallowed by black. He wasn’t looking at her like an employee anymore. He was looking at her like he had looked at the mud on his boot, like something he needed to understand before he crushed it.
“One hundred and twenty,” Sterling said quietly after counting her heartbeats. “Maybe higher.”
“Let go of me,” Cassidy whispered. She couldn’t find the air to shout.
“You said you weren’t emotional,” Sterling said. His thumb brushed against the sensitive skin under her chin, both a caress and a threat. “But your body is screaming, Cassidy.”
“I hate you,” she said.
“That is irrelevant,” Sterling said. “Your pulse tells me you are terrified, but underneath the terror…”
He leaned in closer until his mouth was inches from her ear and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.
“…you are excited.”
The words hit her like a slap. “No, I’m not.” she denied. “You’re crazy.”
“Am I?” Sterling pulled back slightly so he could look her in the eye again but didn’t remove his hand from her neck. He kept it there anchoring her, controlling her. “Biology doesn’t lie. Your pupils are dilated, your respiration is shallow, and your skin is burning up.”
He moved his thumb again and traced the line of her jaw, sending a jolt of heat straight down her spine. The heavy, aching heat pooled low in her belly, which she didn’t want and didn’t understand.
She had not been with a man since Travis. Rough and selfish Travis had never made her feel like this. Sterling was precise and overwhelming.
“You are compromised,” Sterling said. “You cannot negotiate effectively in this state.” He dropped his hand, and the loss of contact was sudden. Cassidy felt cold instantly and almost stumbled forward without the support of his touch.
Sterling took a step back, adjusting his cuff links and smoothing the front of his jacket. He looked completely unaffected.
I’ll bet his heart isn’t racing. The man is a stone wall. Cassidy, on the other hand, felt stripped bare. He had dissected her and proven that he knew her body better than she did.
“The horses leave Thursday,” he repeated in his cool, corporate baritone. “I will have the demolition crew supervisor contact you regarding the barn schedule.” He turned and walked toward the door.
Cassidy stood against the filing cabinet, shaking harder now.
“Sterling!” she called out.
He stopped at the door but did not turn around.
“You’re wrong,” she said. She tried to sound defiant. “I’m not selling. I’ll find a lawyer and fight you.”
Sterling turned his head slightly to look at her over his shoulder. There was a flicker of something in his eyes between condolence and challenge.
“Read the contract, Cassidy,” he said. “You don’t have the leverage to fight. You don’t even have the leverage to stand up straight.”
He opened the door, letting the cold wind from the hallway rush in.
“Get some rest,” he said. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”
Then he walked out, and the door clicked shut behind him. Cassidy stared at the wood grain.
When her legs finally gave out, she slid down the front of the filing cabinet until she hit the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest and reached up to touch her neck. The spot where his fingers had been still tingled. Cassidy closed her eyes and let out a long, ragged breath.
He was going to take everything—the ranch, horses, and her home.
Cassidy also realized that if she wasn’t careful, he was going to take something else. Because for one terrified, insane second when his hand was on her throat, she hadn’t wanted him to stop. She had wanted him to tighten his grip.
“Damn you,” she whispered into the empty, freezing room.
On the desk above her, the manila folder sat closed and rejected, the proposal dead. The war had begun, and she had just lost the first battle without landing a single blow.