Page 26 of The Mogul: Leonard

“About what?” she barks, now more annoyed than surprised.

I glance at the guy, and his smirk has a “told you so” vibe. I never thought I’d be so bothered by the mere presence of a kid half my age.

“Can we go somewhere more private?” I beg, returning my eyes to hers.

She scoffs. “I’m not inviting you into my bedroom.”

“I told him so, but he wouldn’t listen,” the irritating boy chips in.

“No, you didn’t, and this is a private conversation. You can return to your games.” I have no qualms about calling out his bullshit.

He grinds his teeth, and his grin sours like I’ve touched a sore spot. My smirk reappears on my face.

“Sweet Jesus, can you stop this dick-measuring contest?” Roxanne murmurs under her breath. She grabs my hand and guides me far from the front door.

“I’ll be right back,” she says over her shoulder to the fuming blond.

When we are far from the door, I take charge and guide her to my limo. She stops dead in her tracks when she sees it.

“Can we just talk here?” She is pissed now.

“It’s a confidential matter. I don’t talk about work in the middle of the street,” I point out, and this gets her attention.

“What is this all about?” She crosses her arms over her chest and waits for my answer. She is a stubborn little thing.

I sigh. “I need your help.”

There, I said it out loud, and I didn’t choke on my words. This is significant progress.

She raises an eyebrow, interested in the turn the conversation took. She enters the limousine without further complaints.

“Only you would come to Venice Beach in a limo.” She shakes her head. Her tone is amused, but she tries to hide it.

“Would you rather I came in my helicopter or one of my luxury cars?” I challenge her. I know she despises my money, and I take pleasure in poking her with that.

“You’re such a show-off,” she mutters.

“Maybe, but here you are.”

After our exchange she keeps silent until we enter the downtown area.

“Where are we going?”

“My office.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to sign a nondisclosure agreement”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she whispers but doesn’t add anything else.

I brace myself for a confrontation, but to my surprise, she seems intrigued by what I’m about to ask. Although she tries to appear uninterested, I can sense that she’s up for a challenge. I believe my job would be an excellent opportunity to test her abilities.

We park in the garage below the building and ride the private elevator up to the top of the building. I don’t miss how she rolls her eyes when I swipe the keycard on the reader and the doors open before us. I have a hard time hiding a smile.

When the elevator opens with a ping, we walk silently to my office. The same keycard opens it. She steps inside and takes in the art on the wall. I let her gawk over the expensive couch and signature desk that cost more than a car. She notices the two-hundred-dollar pen on my desk, next to the monogrammed paper laying on a leather folder. She says nothing but she can’t hide the fact that she is impressed.

I don’t know if she expected tacky golden furniture or sculptures of myself, but I’m not that kind of billionaire. I pride myself on collecting tasteful objects.

---