Page 8 of Mending Our Chance

“Mr. Graceson is your partner.” Her little shoe began to tap on the floor.

“No!” I snapped. My face was right above hers, and I could smell the coffee that was coming from her clothing, a clear sign that she had probably spent the wee hours of the morning in a café. Then all other thoughts went from my head. Oh Good Lord, I was too close to her. Her lips were within reach. I knew they would be dark and spicy, and the damn thing in my pants stiffened just thinking of laying my mouth on hers. With effort, I pushed the thought aside and ground out, “This is my company, my legacy. As such, I brought Harold on board. I run this company, not him.”

“Fine.” Felicity shrugged. “Your company. But I still won’t deal with you.”

“Why the fuck not?” I growled. My fingers ached to reach out and snatch her into an embrace. Her appraising gaze was taking stock, deciding if battle was a consideration. Go for it, little girl. I would risk a burn just to sample a taste of that fire.

“Take it or leave it, Marcus.”

Then, just as she realized her slip in formality and went to correct herself, I cut her off. “There are two issues I want to address, one being what happened in the past, and the second being your position here. The first, although vitally important to me, will have to wait. I’m going to figure out what is wrong between us one way or another, but right now, I really need to know if you are committed to this role. Are you going to give this your everything, as if this was your own business?”

Felicity blinked. Then the little hellion brought herself up to her full height—which was barely five foot two in her stocking feet. “I would never degrade my professional reputation by giving something less than one-hundred percent. I said I would help this company—that is what I’m doing. It doesn’t matter if you are the founder or not even present, once my word is given, consider it done.”

I blew out a sigh of relief. Stepping back with my palms in the air, I nodded. “I needed to hear it from your own lips. I know Harold had you sign a contract, but it just ain’t the same as a verbal bond.”

“Don’t use bad grammar, Southern boy.” A ghost of a smile passed over her lips, extinguishing some of the fire in her presence. “You’re a professional businessman.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Then I remembered another matter. Somehow, in the storm to get over here, I had forgotten. So I added, “A broke businessman, who isn’t using his family’s money to cash-cow this start-up. Ms. Saccone, can we go over some numbers so I can explain the finances here?”

“Send me an email.” The smile was gone, but her tone had remained neutral. “And, Mr. Bowers?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever question my methods.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” That’s a lie—I will always dare. I want to challenge every thought that goes through that pretty little head of yours, Felicity.

Her concessions were enough for now. I bowed my head in reverence and turned to go. But even as I walked away, I hoped she would call after me and continue our interaction. She didn’t. I entered my office suite, and when I looked over my shoulder, she was gone.

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