Page 22 of Be With Me
He strode toward me. “We still have two weeks to get it right. I gave you an unlimited budget for a reason. Get creative. Make me stand out.”
Kassandra swallowed. I watched the gears turn in her head while mine did the same.
He was helping me save face. Dressing someone for a Golden Circle event was something few stylists in the city got to do.
I didn’t have time to react before his gaze slid to Kassandra.
“The door was locked for a reason. We’re busy. Get out.” His voice was so cold that Kassandra visibly recoiled.
She sputtered. “I-I didn’t realize?—”
He stepped forward, crowding her. “A word of advice? Look somewhere else for your assistant. Given the astronomical rate I’m paying Mia, I doubt you can afford her.”
She backed up. Fast.
I just stood there, stunned, as he forced her out of the studio.
He shut the door, locked it, and closed the blinds.
Then, he turned to me.
Something dangerous swarmed inside his eyes, something that sent a series of shivers racing down my spine.
He walked toward me with measured steps. I forced myself to stand my ground, even though my animal instincts screamed at me to run.
“Has she always been such a cunt, or is this a new thing?” His voice was a low rumble inside his chest.
He stood so close that my next inhale caught his scent. Rich, spicy, unmistakable, andsofamiliar.
Was that…?
Angel’s Share. My favorite cologne.
Why? Just why?
It was like someone had conspired to make this dangerous predator as physically attractive as possible.
“I’m pretty sure she was born that way,” I whispered.
In this light, his eyes were a pale, piercing gray—the color of dense morning fog. “And here I had the impression you were the kind of person who never had a bad word to say about anyone.”
Iwasthat kind of person. But something about Romolo made me a little sharper around the edges. I didn’t think I could survive around him if I stayed all soft.
“Guess you don’t know me.”
“I’d like to change that.” He lifted his hand and took hold of one of the ends of the bow hanging over my shoulder. There was something sensual about the way he rubbed the gauzy fabric between his forefinger and thumb.
My stomach did a flip I refused to analyze too closely.
Fear. That’s all it was. The same fluttering, disorienting sensation I’d felt yesterday when he’d pinned me to the bed, his body overwhelming mine.
I tugged the fabric free from his grasp and took a step back, heat prickling my cheeks. “I’d like you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Not when you just became my new stylist.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled up. “Look, I appreciate you saving me from further embarrassment just now, but we both know I’m not dressing you for anything.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You left your agenda open on a stool in the dressing area. Five cancelled appointments in the last week. Ten out of nineteen clients crossed out. I guess it’s eleven once you account for the one you just lost. Your business is crumbling.”
