Page 10 of Mr. Not Nice Guy

“About a month ago,” I prompt him, smirking. “Sweet Lorraine’s on St. Claude.” I rest my elbow on the table, setting my chin in my palm while I arch an eyebrow at him. “Andthen…yourapartment.”

And right before my very eyes, August’s entire demeanor does a sharp turn for totalhorror.

And it is fuckinghilarious.

His lips part, and his breathing picks up as his eyes do an up-and-down roam over my form, and I can practically see the puzzle pieces falling together right in front of me. August is visibly on the cusp of panicking. I kind of want to laugh, but I don’t. I’m sure it’s an awkward realization for Mr.-I’m-a-Consummate-Professional, and I definitely don’t want to embarrass him to the point that he retracts the label’s offer.

Despite how cranky he was that first night, August also strikes me as a Mr.-Nice-Guy type with good manners when he needs them, so I expect he’s going to make some kind of apology for not remembering or not trying to get my phone number or whatever.

“Listen, August,” I start to say, letting myself laugh for the sake of getting him to lighten up, “it’s not a big deal, and it’s actually kind of funny if you—”

“Stop talkingimmediately,” he growls. He’s suddenly fuckingferocious, andhuh. Maybe hedoesn’thave very good manners,noris he much of a Mr.-Nice-Guy type. “Do you want this contract, Scarlett?”

His jaw is solid and ticking, brows high on his forehead, green eyes flashing, and the amused expression fades from my face.

“Of course I do.”

“Then I would advise you toneverutter a word aboutthat,” he gravels, lifting his hand to point at the door to the club, “tothem.” He retracts his hand and plants his solid index finger against the table. “Oranyone elseat this record label.”

My jaw goes slack for a second becausewow. Okay then.

Another laugh explodes from my lips. “So, onthatnote, lemme ask you something.” I jerk my chin at the door. “Why do you care iftheyknow that we randomly hooked up way before y’all came by to talk to me about this?Unless…” I wink at him. “You’re holding out hope that shit doesn’t work out between them? Maybe you want to look like you’re totallynotinvolved with anyone, just in case Liza changes her mind about him?” I reach across the table to wrap my hand around his and give it a flirtatious stroke. “The night we were together, you were talking about them, and it’s kind of obvious that you still have athingfor—”

August grips my handhardand then jerks my arm, pulling me close to him, andfuck no,he didnotjust do that. But before I can say or do anything, he’s growling again, this time right into my ear.

“Listen to me, you petulant little girl. I have spent the past ten years of my life building asterlingreputation in this industry, and I will not have it ruined by a loose-lipped trollop who is nothing more than a drunken fuck that I forgot about.” He pulls his face away so he can level me with his gaze. “Youare anobodyuntilIturn you into something.Ihold all the cards in this situation. So, unless you want to spend the rest of your life jiggling your tits for tips in seedy bars, I suggest you put a fucking lid on it and wipe that night from your memory.” He tosses my hand back at me. “LikeIdid.”

Our eyes are locked together for a long span of silence.

For all of ten seconds, I war with the idea of slapping his smug-as-fuck face and storming out. But then, on second number eleven, I think of Maw-Maw back at our shitty apartment, her mind slowly, but steadily deteriorating. And on second number twelve, I think of the dollar amount on Brennan’s business card.

Women have done a lot worse for money.

I can certainly deal with this prick for a little while. Just while I get established and make a real name for myself. I don’t need the national spotlight. I just need enough exposure here in New Orleans so that I can bring in a steady income.

So I’ll comply, but it’s crystal clear that August and I are not going to be friends. We are enemies playing on the same team in this game. And that’s fucking fine with me.

I sit up taller and toss my hair nonchalantly, then pick up my beer to gesture at him with it. “So, dotheyrealize you’re a total fucking monster? Or is this just how you are with your artists?”

“No,” August clips. “Theyand all of myotherartists think I’m the nicest guy they’ve ever met. Becausenormally, Iam. Becausenormally, I’m not dealing with a loose woman who lacks any semblance ofdiscretion.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Normally, I’m just Mr. Nice Guy toeveryone.”

This mother fucker has basically called me a whore three times over the span of not even five minutes, so I’m done with this meeting.

“Right,” I say, pushing myself away from the table and standing up. “Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at ten, Mr.NotNice Guy.”

“You will indeed,” he returns without missing a beat and also without standing up like anyrealgentleman would. “And I willindeedmake the decision whether that meeting is the first or the last. So please ensure that your manners are intact. For your own sake.”

My hands areburningwith the urge to slap the ever-loving shit out of him. But I can’t do that. Assaulting him is a sure-fire way to lose the contract, but I know exactly how toreallypiss him off without having to lay a hand on him.

Taking a step toward him, I plant both palms on the table behind him, caging his shoulders between my arms, and lean close to his face to murmur, “Yes,sir.”

Thelast timeI called himsir, August wrapped his hand around my throat like he wanted to choke fuck me. This time he doesn’t react at all, but I don’t miss the way his eyes darken with heat and flick down to my plunging neckline and ample cleavage.

I linger there long enough for him to recall the fact that he fuckinglovesmyperfect tits.

Again, hiswords.

If he’s going to torture me with his dickish behavior, I’m going to torture him right back. I’m officially just one more woman in his life that he’s definitely going to think about while jerking off in the shower every morning, but whom he can’t actually have.

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