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I’ll even choose her office as my own since it’s twice the size ofmy current one and she has a fancy conference room tucked in the corner. A devilish smile spreads across my face as I think about it, and I return to my keyboard.
I quickly write and send the unavoidable email I’ve tried to put together for almost a month.
After locking my screen, I grab my phone and leave the security my office provides.
“Please let me know when you return,” Lauren says as I pass the reception desk. “You have a conference call at eight with a high-profile client that I did not reschedule, per your instructions.”
“Don’t worry. This won’t last longer than ten minutes.”
She gives me a pointed look.
I hold up my hand. “Trust me, the Ice Queen’s enormous Calloway ego won’t handle me being the only person who can save her ass. So, we’ll play games until she’s so utterly desperate that she’ll crawl and beg for my help.”
Lauren isn’t amused. “This isn’t a game.”
“I wonder how long it’ll take her.” I smirk, thinking about it. “Billie will complicate this. It’s her MO with everything she does. She’s intelligent but an overthinker and overanalyzer. It gets her into trouble and creates executive dysfunction.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a crush,” Lauren says, narrowing her eyes at me.
“On the Wednesday Addams of the fashion world? Fuck no. We’re just basically the same person. It’s how I can predict her moves.” Sarcastic laughter escapes me, and I’m offended she’d assume something so ridiculous. “Also, you know I don’t date bitches. Especially ones who don’t know how to smile.”
“Oh, you only hire them then?” Lauren lifts a brow and playfully smiles.
“Good one,” I tell her as I enter the elevator with a chuckle. “Bitches get things done and rule the world. Don’t get it twisted; I’ve got mad respect.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she says.
I do know what I’m missing—constant attitude and brat behavior. I’ve known Billie Calloway for over a decade, and I’ve never seen her genuinely smile. When we met in college, I learned that the valedictorian—the real-life Hermione Granger—must be the most intelligent person in the room, or she’d lose it. I get it; I’ve lived in the shadows of my highly successful siblings, too, but she overcompensates, to the point of annoyance.
Billie was so used to receiving praise for her brains and beauty that she expected everyone to bow down to her, the diamond princess. When we met, she received zero free passes from me. I knew she was an ice queen the first time we crashed into one another and I looked into her light-blue eyes.
Ruthless. Intelligent. Bitch.
The female version of Weston and Easton Calloway, all wrapped into one. They were my heroes, and she was unlike any woman I’d ever fucking met, even to this day. So, I pushed her to her limit, and she pushed me to mine. Purposely.
Now we hate each other, and she avoids me like the plague, which is great. I prefer not to be around her. It’s better if she keeps her distance.
As soon as I enter Bellamore, I’m greeted by security and given credentials. The building is stunning; the bottom floor is an atrium with beautiful trees that stretch up to forty feet high. A botanical garden and waterfall flow as sunlight streams through the clear windows. Classical music drifts throughout the space where the boutique is located. Shoppers can buy directly from the showroom floor; some pieces are thousands of dollars. Taking a picture in front of the window has become a viral phenomenon. One thing Billie is great at is building community without trying.
It’s heaven down here. Hell and Satan are located on the forty-second floor.
I suck in a deep breath, knowing I thrive in the uncomfortable. I settle into it, make peace with it. I become friends with my demons and rule them instead of the other way around. Nothingscares or intimidates me. I laugh at most challenges. But this woman makes me feel it all and stirs something deeply primal inside of me.
Billie is aware of what many call me—the Boogeyman of Business. I can give success and take it away with one marketing campaign. She doesn’t care. Nothing impresses her.
I take the elevator, and as soon as I step off, I’m greeted by a cute woman sitting at a moon-shaped desk. The phone rings, and she answers. As I move closer, her brown eyes travel from my head down to my toes. After she finishes eye-fucking me, she grins.
“Good morning,” she purrs, covering the mouthpiece.
“Morning. Still determining if it’s good or not.” I glance at the nameplate sitting on the edge of her desk. “Hannah, I have an appointment with Ms. Alexander and Ms. Calloway at seven.”
“Are youtheAsher Banks?” She blushes.
I nod, realizing my reputation may precede me.
“The pics don’t do you justice, Mr. Banks.”
“Uh, thanks.”