Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
"She can't draw new plans without an idea of where the building will go," Jackson reminds me. "She needs measurements, topography, property lines, existing features…"
"She's drawing them for the current space, but with a carve-out for Lilah's shop. Tell her to make the whole bottom floor shop space built around Lilah's store."
Jackson's brows climb. "You're going to let her keep her building?"
Am I? A big part of me wants to walk away and let her have it, but investors may not agree. "We need options, just in case," I finally say, unwilling to settle on a course of action right now, not until I know which way the wind is blowing.
He nods, eyeing me sideways. "What are you going to do?"
"Try to talk her down."
"You mean seduce her." Is that disapproval in his voice? Maybe. We've always made it a point never to go after a woman-owned business, not because of the optics, but because it's just a shitty thing to do.
We were both raised by single moms hustling to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. Most of the donations I make each year go to organizations and groups that support women and women-owned businesses, because that's what my mother would have wanted.
But…this is different. I'm not trying to force her out of business. I just need her to pick a different building. Any different building. I'll pay for the goddamn thing myself, just so long as she moves.
"I can tell by your lack of response that you're considering it," Jackson says with a heavy sigh. "Just…don't be stupid, man. You could sink this company."
"I'm aware," I snap, bristling. I don't need a reminder from him of what's at stake here. The weight of responsibility rests on my shoulders, morning, noon, and night. Which is precisely why I can't afford to sit back and hope for the best, not when it's now confirmed that she could easily afford to draw blood in this fight.
Too many jobs are at stake here. And, despite her opinion of me, I'm not an asshole. I don't want to cancel a project people are counting on to feed their families.
I flip her folder closed with a curse, not sure how to play this. As tempting as seduction sounds—and believe me, it's tempting as hell—I doubt I stand a chance of coaxing her into my bed. Even if I could, the thought of using sex to get what I want isn't appealing. That's a line I've never crossed, and I don't intend to start now.
If she comes to my bed, I don't want it to be because I have ulterior motives. I want it to be because she's desperate to know what it feels like to have me all over her. I want it to be because she came of her own free will, not because I played some fucking game to get her there.
And that just isn't going to happen, not when I'm after the building she's willing to chain herself to just to keep.
Fuck my life.
I haul myself to my feet, snatching her folder off the desk. "I'm going to Santa Maria," I growl. "Clear my schedule. I won't be back for a few days."
"You want me to come?"
"Nah. I need you here."
He sighs and then nods. "Be careful, man. Real fucking careful."
"Plan to," I mutter, already stalking toward the door.
Chapter Three
Lilah
The universe is out to get me. I know this because nothing is going my way, not since Lincoln Hanover appeared in my shop to ruin my life two days ago.
First, he dropped his bomb. Then, an entire shipment of books went MIA. And then Sarah caught the flu, leaving us down a woman for Cassia Murphy's book reading tonight.
The store is packed to the rafters. I'm not frazzled. I'm whatever comes after that. Jazz and Olive are doing their best to help. Even Loralei jumped in to help, but we're seriously outnumbered.
Maybe adding a fundraising component to the reading was a bit of an overreach. Everyone has been swarming the counter all night to buy tickets for the massive raffle basket Cassia and her husband helped put together. The money is going to a women's shelter.
"We need more wine!" Jazz whisper-hisses, her eyes wide as she scurries around the side of the counter where Olive and I are doing our best to ring up customers and wrap up books before they mutiny over the wait. Loralei is working the café by herself. Thank God Cassia brought her husband with her because I have no one left to station at her table to help her.
"Check in the back," I mutter to Jazz. "Oliver's brother delivered more first thing this morning." Thankfully, I planned ahead and asked Lucy to send two more cases. We're going through bottles like it's nothing tonight!