Page 19 of A New Year's Toy

“Would you be willing to hear a solution I might have?” His gaze dances across the bathroom. “Outside of here?”

This day brought the realization that having Alistair’s input, even when I don’t straight up ask him of it, doesn’t take away from me being a boss lady.

He proved I can trust him not to treat me like a little girl, to stay beside me, never ahead. It showed in his rage in that conference room. His outward kindness was nonexistent, and yet he sucked it up. Said nothing until we were out of earshot.

Respected me.

My ovaries demand that I hug him for that fact, alone.

My heart commands me to do it later, trust him now.

Any suggestion he brings to the table, he’ll do to empower me. He’ll leave it to my final judgment. I can get behind that.

“Yes. Absolutely yes.” I clutch onto his suit jacket lapels, tugging him to me for a quick kiss. “Soon. There’s something I have to do before we leave. I have some unfinished business.”

The sadist in him awakens. His eyes darken, his white teeth flash like the predator he is.

“After you.” He unlocks the door to the bathroom, clearing the path for me.

The sound of my clicking heels reverberates in Rose’s halls. Alistair falls into step with me, once again opening the door to the conference room.

“Nola, Alistair.” Delphine rises, the money-hungry smile glued to her lips. “We were starting to get worried.”

Alistair closes the door, staying put while I face them.

These two people believed they could mock me for my naïveté, gossip about me to my face for not speaking their language.

They underestimated me and the power of my relationship.

For that, they’ll pay.

“It’s Ms. Vickers, to you.” I glower at her.

“I apologize, I don’t think I understand?” Her joyful demeanor wanes.

Her brother appears at her side. A united family front.

What a joke. Like these two intimidate me. A) The mask hiding their asshole-ness has been lifted, so honestly, their theatrics look more pathetic than anything. B) The throbbing pain in the back of my thighs and ass reminds me of what I’ve taken, how I’ve endured, and tells me what a piece of fucking cake this should be.

“First thing’s first: I am not going into business with you.”

“Your boyfriend has another supplier, correct?” Laurent asks. “He’s been hostile since the start.”

“You want to know why Alistair has been hostile?” My eyes narrow. I erect my spine to all of my five-foot-seven inches, plus the other two and a half from my boots. “Alistair is fluent in French.”

Delphine gasps.

“Yes.” I let that sink in, sidestepping them to grab my bag and our coats. “Good luck with finding any other client in the States. I’ll make sure to spread the word that the Rose family considers us idiots. I’m confident many sex shop owners will find that attitude highly unappealing.”

“We apologize.” Laurent lifts his hands in surrender. “Please, you can’t do that.”

“Watch me.”

I glance at Alistair from across the desk. His eyes glimmer, his chest is puffed.

His silent praise encourages me to take that final step. I swipe the contract they almost had me sign off the table, tearing it into smithereens. The paper shreds fall like snow to the floor.

Now, I’m done.

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