Page 54 of Filthy Rich Temptation
She waves it proudly, then lunges as if she’s going to eat it. I dive across the table, snatching it from her just before she bites down – nearly taking out my coffee in the process.
‘I think that one’s too pretty to eat,’ I say. ‘Try the other slice?’
She picks it up and flashes me that grin – part angel, part evil genius – and I know she’s only humouring me.
Then my phone lights up beside the laptop. Jake.Shit. He’s under strict instruction not to call before nine these Lottie-days unless the company’s actively on fire.
I groan, and Lottie copies me.
It’s enough to make me smile as I hit speakerphone and look for somewhere safe to stash the bedazzled toast. Possibly the bin?
‘Jake, what’s up?’
‘Sorry to call early, boss, but Sterling’s on the warpath.’
I roll my eyes, and Lottie giggles.
‘He wants to speak to you.’
‘I’ll call him later.’
‘He wants to speak to younow.’
Lottie stares at me, wide eyes sparkling and entranced, like I’m performing just for her. And why not? If it keeps her away from glitterfying more toast, I’m all for it.
I cross my eyes and pout. ‘Well, I don’t wanna talk to the big, grumpy man…’
Lottie erupts, collapsing sideways, head straight in the glitter.
‘Uh… Mr Tanner?’
I waggle my tongue and roll my head. She has tears.
‘Theo?’
Jake’s strained use of my first name smacks me upside the head. What am I doing?
I’ve negotiated with oil barons. I’ve outbid competitors for global transport fleets. I’ve closed deals that could make or break empires. And my current challenge? Keeping a jam-and-glitter-stained toddler from eating sequin-glued toast like it’s a Michelin-star dish.
As though to prove my point, Lottie scoops up another handful of sequins and grabs the glue-stick, her eyes flicking pointedly between me and her naked toast. I shake my head –No! –but she’salready sprinkling like it’s salt and pepper.
‘Tell him I’m in serious negotiations with a tiny dictator over sequin tariffs and,’ she picks up the slice, ‘toast jurisdiction.’
I swoop in again, grabbing it before she takes a bite.
‘Is that some kind of metaphor, or?—?’
She pouts up at me. I pout back.
‘Mr Tanner?’
‘I’ll call him.’
‘Now?’
‘Soon. Bye, Jake.’
I end the call, and Lottie applauds.
