Page 15 of Owning Him
I press the button. "What is it, Sarah?"
"Ms. Blackwood, I am so, so sorry," my assistant’s voice comes through, sounding strained. "I know you do not want to be disturbed, but... there's a man down in the lobby who is refusing to leave."
"Who?" I hiss.
"Noah Davis. He’s the CEO of the tech group whose logistics startup you rejected last week."
I slam my palm flat against the desk. "What the hell does he want? The board’s decision was final."
"I told him that, Ms. Blackwood, but he’s... he's desperate," Sarah hesitates. "Security is ready to escort him out, but he’s making a scene in the lobby."
My brows furrow. Normally, I would have had security throw him onto the pavement without a second thought. I don'tdo charity, and I don't do second chances for incompetent men. But Viktor is having a lot of adverse effects on me. One of them, apparently, is that his presence is making me dangerously tolerant.
I let out a heavy breath. "Fine. Bring him up, Sarah. He has exactly five minutes to pitch a miracle."
"Right away, Ms. Blackwood."
Three minutes later, my office door clicks open. Noah Davis stumbles inside. He looks a mess—his tie is crooked, his hair is disheveled, and there are dark circles under his eyes. Not a good impression.
"Valentina," he almost screams. "Thank you. Thank you for seeing me. You have to reconsider."
"Sit down, Mr. Davis," I grumble. "And it's Ms. Blackwood. You have four minutes left."
"Please," he pleads. "That startup is everything I have. If your group doesn't acquire us, the investors are going to pull out by midnight. I’ll be bankrupt. We just need to make an adjustment to the logistics—"
"Your logistics clause wasn't the only issue, Noah," I interrupt, crossing my legs as I grow bored of his tantrum. "Your projection models are based on wishful thinking."
He takes a step around the side of my desk, invading my space. "You're just being stubborn. Who the hell do you think you are?"
"I am the woman who owns the capital you need," I yell as he starts to piss me off, rising from my chair. "And your time is up. Get out of my office."
"No, look at me!" he barks, his face flushing red.
He grabs my wrist, his nails digging into my skin. "You're going to save my company, or I swear to God—"
Adrenaline burns through the tolerance I had forced myself to find. I break his grip with a twist of my arm. I grab the collarof his blazer with both hands, leverage my weight, and fling him backward. It’s not that hard, as he’s not much taller than me. Noah Davis is truly a small man. In every possible way.
Noah’s boots lose traction as he crashes into the nearby leather sofa, knocking over a heavy brass floor lamp.
The doors of my office instantly burst open. Three burly security guards rush inside, Sarah hovering behind them with a pale face.
"Get him out of here," I command as I smooth down the front of my skirt, only then noticing I broke one of my nails.Fuck him.
Noah wheezes as he's hauled toward the door.
"I don't ever want to see you around here again, Mr. Davis," I warn. "If you so much as step into the lobby of this building again, I will personally ensure your bankruptcy."
The guards drag him out, slamming the doors shut behind them. Sarah leaves too, offering me a polite nod on the way out.
I look down at my wrist, where red, angry finger marks are already starting to bloom against my pale skin. I collapse back into my chair, my head hitting the headrest.
I need to finish these files. I need to focus on business.
But as I stare at the red marks on my arm, all I can think about is how much I want to go home, maybe have ice cream with Viktor, and watch a stupid movie.
But I power through until the skyline outside my floor-to-ceiling windows turns black. I punish myself because I let myself soften. I can't afford to be a woman who wants to go home all the time. Not when my late father’s empire depends entirely on me.
The truth is, I have so much money I could retire tomorrow. I could liquidate my assets and spend the rest of my life on a private island, eating all the ice cream in the world. But if I do that, where does that leave every single fucker in this city who told my father that he should have aborted me?
