Page 15 of Strictly Pretend

I wince at the thought of it. “You hitchhiked? Seriously? Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

“To me or the driver?” she asks.

“To you. You should have woken me. I would’ve driven you home.”

“I didn’t know you either,” she points out. “You could have been just as dangerous.”

For a moment neither of us say anything. Because the fact I’m here, trying to break a lease, proves that I probably am. I hate the way she looks disappointed with me. And maybe she is, because there’s this weird tug in my stomach.

“Can you just get out whatever it is you have to say,” she says. “I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”

I take a pointed look around the empty shop and then bring my eyes back to hers. I hate the way I like them. “I can see how busy you are.”

She frowns. “We’re a high value business. Not a high volume business.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. When we sell a book it can pay the rent for a month, sometimes multiple months. And I have an enquiry about a Steinbeck, so I’d really like to get back to work.”

“That’s because your rent is too low.”

She swallows.

“And I’ve seen your finances. You’re neither high value nor high volume. Your business is failing. For the last god knows how many years you’ve been in the red.”

“There’s more to life than money,” she says, looking even more annoyed. Even frowning she’s attractive.

“Not when it comes to business.” I pull my mind out of the gutter.

Hot blood pumps to her face. “We pay our rent on time every month. That’s all you need to know. Anything else has nothing to do with you.”

“It’s in every landlord’s best interest that his tenants have a long-term profit plan,” I point out.

“We’ve been here for fifty years. We plan to be here for fifty more.”

“That’s a shame,” I tell her. “I was hoping we could do this nicely. For your sake.”

“For my sake?” she repeats. “What does that mean?”

My eyes narrow. I just want this whole thing to be over. “It means that we can do this one of two ways, Miss Robbins. The easy way or the hard way. And either way, I’ll get what I want, I always do.”

She laughs. “Does that kind of talk usually work?” she asks. “Because Hollywood called and they want their Wolf of Wall Street back.”

Christ, she’s pretty. For a minute I want to laugh with her.

“You wasted your time coming here,” she tells me. “Nothing will persuade us to break the lease.”

Our eyes meet again and I feel a thrill rush through my body. The memory of her mouth against mine makes me feel alive for the first time in months.

“Everybody has a price, Emma,” I say, my gaze not leaving hers. “I just need to find out what yours is.”

EMMA

Mia bursts out laughing as I tell her about the contents of the letter I sent to Salinger Estates. “Seriously, just those words? Nothing else?”

“No.” I let out a sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me his last name was Salinger?”

I close my eyes for a moment, the memory of today all too vivid. My heart rate didn’t come down for at least an hour after he left. I swear I could still smell the woody notes of his cologne for another hour after that.

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