“Sergio,” he interrupts me as he adjusts his sleeve and plays with his watch. A Rolex, of course.
“Sergio.” I shift my eyes from his watch to his eyes and smile at him kindly. As I’ve stated before, I’m very good at my job. “I’ve had a chance to go through your requirements and requests. I agree with all of them, but did want to show you a few additional options for this aircraft.”
Pulling sketches from my folder, I proceed to show him alternative interior color choices, accent metals, and woods, as well as additional custom technology packages outside of his initial needs.
He smiles, nods, and listens carefully as I walk through every option. I’m obsessive about documenting every detail so that we can place the needed purchases and get his plane customized as quickly as possible. He accepts every recommendation I present, and I fight back a smile as I silently pat myself on the back.
As I finish my notes, he leans back in his chair, propping his left foot onto his right knee. “You’re very beautiful, Ms. Phillips.”
My heart thrums, and I take a deep breath. I keep my eyes cast down on my notebook and don’t look up to him. I’m asserting my power now. “Thank you,” I respond politely.
“You do good work. But a beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be working.” I now raise my head and look at him. He rubs his chin with one hand while strumming his fingers on the table with his other. “You should let your man take care of you. I’m assuming you do have a boyfriend, Ms. Phillips.” His dark eyes twinkle as he flirts with me.
“It’s Saige, and I do have a boyfriend,” I tell him firmly, although I’m not entirely sure I do. Truthfully, I would’ve said it whether Holt and I were together or not. I’m not giving this asshole an inch of me. I keep my smile professional and as warm as I can muster. “And I disagree with you. I enjoy my job very much, and the last thing I need is a man taking care of me.” My voice hitches nervously. I can feel his eyes on me as I stand up and begin to gather the papers that are spread out across the conference room table, shoving them back into the project folder.
Sergio follows my lead and stands up quickly, adjusting his suit coat. He leans in, and I can smell his cologne. It’s spicy, but light. “Well then, I’m glad you’ve found a career that makes you happy.” His pink lips twist into a devious smile and I swallow hard. With my papers in hand, I step forward and extend my arm, guiding Mr. Perez toward the conference room door. He leans in to me again, the smell of scotch heavy on his breath. “Because there is nothing you couldn’t have sold me today.” He wraps his fingers around my forearm.
“Thank you,” I say nervously, pulling my arm out of his grasp.
“Please, you first.” He ushers me in front of him. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Ms. Phillips. I hope to continue this relationship.”
My stomach turns. Relationship? “Likewise.” I offer a tight smile as we step out into the main hallway of the Jackson-Hamilton offices. “I’ll be in touch with an updated estimate, and we’ll proceed from there.” I reach out my hand to shake his again. Even with clients that I don’t like, or that upset me, I always remain professional. Always. His dark eyes slowly take me in from head to toe and he licks his lips before he grins.
“Very well.” He nods and pulls my hand into his. Instead of shaking it, he pulls it to his lips and presses a kiss to the top. I manage a smile and tug gently, trying to release my hand from his grasp, but he’s stronger. He holds it just long enough to let me know that he’s in control, and I submit. I stop fighting him. He smiles when he realizes he’s won. Finally releasing my hand, he turns quickly and walks toward the elevators. Normally, I walk clients to the elevator to send them out, but not today.
“Send my greetings to Mr. Hamilton, please,” he tosses over his shoulder.
“Fuck off,” I mumble under my breath and return to my desk.
Twelve thirty sneaks up on me, and I quickly give my face a onceover in the small mirror of my compact. I’ve really never given much consideration to how I’ve looked before; I’ve always felt secure with my simple appearance. I wear very little makeup and the only thing I do beauty wise is get my eyebrows waxed. But for Holt, I want to feel more than simple; I want to be attractive.
I brush a light coat of taupe lipstick across my lips, rub them together, and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. With a deep breath, I grab my clutch and shove my cell phone into the inside pocket. My legs feel like Jell-O, much like they did last week when I walked across the bar to ask Holt out for a drink, only this time, I’m walking across the office—his office—for lunch. My, how things have changed in only a matter of days.