Page 11 of Big & Bossy

Her grin faded as she started to realize I was not, in fact, talking about her. “Sounds like you have someone in mind.”

Shit. “No. I just know my type,” I explained. My back and shoulders began to ache, the irritation of my current predicament forcing pain upon myself from flexing too much. I could feel every inch of fabric on my skin, could feel the lining of my sock against the tip of my toes. I hated it. I wanted out of there.

“Now that you’ve moved to Boulder…” she started, and oh thank God, I think we’re on the right track, “…do you plan to involve yourself in the dating scene here?”

I clenched my hands into fists to keep from making an outburst. I knew how to handle the media, how to deal with them, to answer politely and be civil. I learned at a young age since my family was always in the public eye. But with the stress of moving my company and Mandy being so goddamn stubborn, it was harder than usual. “Probably not. At least not until I’ve got all the quirks worked out with the new campus.”

She nodded as she jotted something down on her pad of paper, slowly inching her body back into a relaxed position and not one that was meant to tempt me. “Speaking of the new campus you’re building, will you be hosting a grand opening? Maybe some sort of soiree to announce yourselves to the area?”

My brows lifted in surprise as I realized this wasn’t another question digging into my love life. “I… hadn’t thought about that. We’ve got some time until we open, so maybe once we get there I’ll consider it. We’re still in the process of sorting out the interiors?—”

“Will it be open-invite? Will you be in attendance?”

For fucks sake, it was just a ploy to get a date out of me. “I don’t know yet as I haven’t planned it.”

“Right.” More notes, more pen scratches, and all I wanted to do was escape back to my apartment. “You said you were sorting the interiors. Are you hiring outside help or a Boulder-based company?”

“Boulder-based, actually. We’ve hired L&V Interiors. They’ll be working closely alongside us to perfect the inside of the building.” Her pen scratched again in tandem with the sound of my foot tapping the floor. “Would you like to know more about Infinius?” I asked.

“Yes, in a moment.” She leaned forward, pulling a second notepad out of her bag. “I have a few questions specifically from the readers if that’s okay with you.”

“The same readers who are so intensely obsessed with my love life?” I snapped. Her answering glare nearly made me recoil, but I pulled my irritation back. “Sorry.”

“You’re one of the most eligible, and wealthiest bachelors in the country. Of course you’re going to have women wanting you, Jackson Big,” she explained, her tone tense, almost as if her patience with me was waning.

“I understand that.”

“Perfect. So, first question. Have you dated any women outside of the public eye?”

Sighing, I resigned to myself that this was always going to be where the questions led. “Yes. I’m not public with my relationships.”

“But you are single, correct?” She asked, that pen dragging again along her lips. If she was trying to entice me, it wasn’t working.

“Yes.”

“Are you looking?”

“In a sense,” I answered, not entirely sure how to form a response to that kind of question based on my current circumstance.

“Would you ever date someone that wasn’t in the same tax bracket as yourself?”

I snorted. What an absurd question. “Obviously. Do people really ask that?”

“They do,” she confirmed, that air of professionalism making a return.

The questions only got worse—What’s your favorite sex position? What color do you like best on a woman? Butts or breasts? Perfect first date? It was a miracle I didn’t lose my absolute shit with her.

I spent the majority of the last five minutes of the meeting talking her ear off about Infinius, but she barely wrote down a word I said. It was pointless, and I was beginning to believe it would always be that way.

As she walked out of my office, her ass far too large for the skirt she was wearing and clinging on for dear life, I had a thought. One I’d never considered before, one that maybe my mother with all of her scheming had thought of long before me. If I had someone, anyone, by my side, surely the media would stop asking questions. They’d have to.

As much as I wanted that person to be Mandy and to have a second chance with her, that seemed way too far off to consider. I had to think of something else. Something fake. I didn’t need to be getting involved with anyone on any real terms, didn’t need an actual relationship. I could make one up, one that would satisfy my mother and the media, hopefully stop their incessant questioning over who I was sleeping with. Hopefully it would also fulfill my own desire to get them off my back.

The question left, then, was the most important one.

Who?

Chapter 6

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