Chapter 21
Tracy
“Looks good,” Blake says, paging through the purchase agreement I wrote up for Jason and Abigail.
Jason loved the house when I showed it to him on Friday.
So much so that we went back on Sunday so he could video call Abigail while he walked through it.
Then we went back again yesterday after Abigail flew in to see it in person.
Now, a week after that initial showing, I’m getting ready to submit my first contract.
“You wrote this all yourself?” Blake asks, peering up at me over the papers. Some of his hair falls onto his forehead, and I fight the urge to push it back for him. He’s ridiculously attractive in a suit, and an absolute heart stopper when he’s dressed casually like today.
It’s really too bad he’s such an asshole. What a waste of a magnificent specimen.
“Craig double checked that I didn’t miss any forms,” I admit. “But otherwise, I did it myself.”
I had begrudgingly texted Blake last night to review it for me before I sent it off. The last thing I wanted was to see him today, but he gave me the client with the clear instructions to keep him involved, so I knew I couldn’t cut him out of this.
He turns to the last page in the contract package. “You need to clarify the home inspection time frame on page three, and you missed paragraph two, section C. Otherwise, it looks good. Fix those two spots and send it out for signatures.”
Tossing the printed copy of the contract back to my side of his desk, Blake returns to work on his computer, while I pull the contract up on mine and make the necessary corrections. I do a quick check over everything else one more time, then send it to Jason and Abigail to review and sign.
“Well, well, well,” Whitney says, and Blake and I both look to find her standing in the doorway of his office, cup of coffee in hand. “Did you two kiss and make up?”
I haven’t seen Blake since I met him at the showing last week, opting to resume my training with Craig. And surprisingly, Blake hasn’t said anything about it. I guess he meant it when he said we were even.
Maybe he’ll leave me alone and treat me like everyone else now.
I can only hope. I’m still mad at him for what he did, breaking into my apartment and throat fucking me, then not even getting me off before leaving me like I meant nothing. I’m also not too proud to admit that I may have been wrong about him, so I’ve decided distancing myself is the best option.
Yes, I still want to stay here at the brokerage. But other than interacting with Blake when necessary for work, I’ve decided to do this on my own. I have Craig who can help me when I need it, and I’ve never been one to shy away from creating my own path.
So, if Blake wants to treat me the way he has been, he can go fuck himself, because I sure as hell won’t be.
This is strictly business now, and I’ll be damned if I let him ruin this for me.
Blake gives Whitney an unamused look as she takes a seat in the chair next to me. I tell her, “I think Blake has resigned himself to the fact that I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh yeah?” She arches an eyebrow at Blake. “Are you finally going to take her seriously?”
He sighs. “Considering I just reviewed a thirteen million dollar contract for a client that I gave her, I’d say I’m taking her pretty damn seriously.”
“Wait. Really?” Whitney looks between the two of us, then to me says, “Oh my god! Congrats! Your first contract! Let’s celebrate. Blake, pull out the good stuff.”
I can’t help but beam and feel excited at Whitney’s enthusiasm. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished so far, and it’s nice that someone other than Riley notices it.
But then, of course, Blake rains on my parade. “It’s not even nine in the morning,” he says.
“So?” Whitney asks. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve spiked my coffee at work. And besides, this is a big moment for your protégé.”
“I’m not his protégé,” I tell her. Sure, I’m grateful he gave me a client, but screw him for the way he’s treated me up until this point.
Blake’s eyes drill into me as he tells Whitney, “Let’s save the shots for when she actually closes her first deal.”
“Ugh, fine.” Whitney sinks defeatedly back into her chair. “You’re the lamest boss I’ve ever had.”
“I’m the only boss you’ve ever had,” Blake counters. “And you’ve gotten away with more shit than you should.”
“I mean, if you’re that upset about it, Tracy and I can leave.” Whitney arches a brow at him. “I’m sure Michael Clark would be happy to take both of us.”
Blake’s nostrils flare and I ask, “Who’s Michael Clark?”
Whitney sets her coffee on Blake’s desk. “He’s the broker at MC Luxury Homes. They’re the only brokerage in the area that can really compete with us. Michael’s been trying to steal clients from Blake for years.”
“And my agents,” Blake adds, his face hostile. “If you even think of going over there, you may as well—”
Whitney waves him off. “Yeah, I know, remove myself from the family tree.” She smirks at me. “But you could always go there if Blake decides to dump you after your three-month trial.”
“Out of the question,” Blake snaps.
Whitney and I share a look, before she says, “Does that mean she’s invited to stay? Indefinitely?”
I can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips. Blake walked right into Whitney’s trap, and it feels so good seeing him on his back foot. I tell him, “If this is your official invitation to the brokerage, it’s really underwhelming. Shouldn’t there be champagne or something?”
Blake’s eyes meet mine, his face grim. Whitney and I have him cornered. Either offer me a full invitation to stay with the brokerage, or accept that I can go to the competition.
And while I don’t plan on leaving, I’ll definitely be looking into Michael Clark. If for some reason things don’t work out, I want other options. I won’t let Blake limit my potential.
“Close this deal with Jason, without causing me a headache, and I’ll consider offering an invitation to stay,” Blake finally says.
He’s trying to intimidate me. Pressure me. Get me to crack under the knowledge that this is my do or die moment.
But he forgets—pressure makes diamonds, and I don’t take no for an answer. So, that house? It’s as good as Jason and Abigail’s already. And this brokerage? They may as well put a plaque with my name on it on one of the offices downstairs, because I’m going nowhere.
And my success? It will all be because of me.
I tell Whitney, “I claim the office next to Craig’s. Can I request one of those adjustable standing desks?”
She grins at me, then asks Blake, “Permission to order a standing desk for Tracy?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Blake mutters. “You’re both going to drive me to an early grave.”
“That sounds like a yes to me,” I tell Whitney.
She grabs her coffee and stands. “I’ll order it today. Anything else you’ll need?” I shake my head. “Welcome to The Frenshaw Group, Tracy,” she says, grinning widely at Blake then heading out of the office.
Blake leans back in his chair, his eyes studying me intently. His face is stoic, giving nothing away as to what’s running through his mind right now.
“Careful, boss, your excitement is almost showing,” I jab.
He grunts, then says, “If this is your and Whitney’s idea of weaseling you in permanently, I have a few ground rules.”
I bite my lip in an effort to fight back my smile. He’s accepting that I’m staying, and before the end of my three-month trial.
Another win for me. I should really start a tally.
Doing my best to conceal my excitement, I ask him, “And what are those?”
His lips tip up into a half smile, the look on his face one of pure sinful mischief. My stomach drops at the heat blazing in his eyes, and my excitement rapidly turns into worry. Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like these ground rules?
“One,” he starts, leaning forward again and clasping his hands in front of him on his desk. “You run every deal and new client by me. You keep me in the loop at all times. I don’t need you making rookie mistakes and pulling this brokerage’s reputation down with you.”
I inwardly roll my eyes. “Fine,” I concede.
I get it—he doesn’t trust me. I haven’t proven anything yet, so I’ll give him this one, even though I’d rather have nothing to do with him.
“Two,” he continues. “I don’t care if you spend time working with Craig, but I want you checking in with me first whenever you come to the office. The second those pretty legs of yours cross into this building, they better be headed in my direction.”
Wow. His jealousy knows no bounds.
Instead of agreeing, I tell him, “Your jealousy is showing.” Just in case he wasn’t aware how fucking psycho he is.
“Sweetheart, you have no idea what my jealousy for you looks like. Which brings me to rule three.” He pushes back from his desk, and my heart damn near stops when he flashes me a full smile, those green eyes sparking with lust and sending a jolt through my entire being.
I straighten in my chair, trying my best not to reveal that my stomach is currently doing flip-flops and I’m damn near quivering in my seat under his heavy gaze.
It’s so fucking annoying that he affects me like this.
I hate him for what he did to me last week.
I hate him for what he said to me after that night at the bar.
I hate that he thinks so little of me—like I’m not capable of being successful and that I’ll crash and burn without his guidance.
So, why the hell isn’t my pussy on board with the whole ‘We Hate Blake’ thing?
I’ve never been a pushover. I’ve never been one to change who I am to fit someone else’s idea of who I should be. My entire life I’ve prided myself on being me, even when it would have been easier to give in. Even when it cost me friendships.
And yet here I am, constantly torn between standing up for myself around Blake and giving in to him.
I hate how weak it makes me feel. I hate how he’s the only person who’s ever successfully gotten under my skin the way he does.
I hate that, when he broke into my apartment, I was less offended by the fact that he throat fucked me when I told him not to and more upset with the fact that he left me afterward.
Blake smirks at me from across his desk, and I force myself to remain impassive. To give him no hint as to the effect he’s having on me.
Whatever rule three is, I’m not going to like it.