Dare Me(31)

Kinsley: He’s probably already been in her pants. He wants more.

Me: STOP!

Emery: #HowHotIsHolt

Kinsley: Quick drink after work? Just the girls.

Rowan: I take offense to that.

Kinsley: You’re one of the girls, Ro. You’re more of a chick than I am.

Isaiah: LOL!

Rowan: Yeah, but seriously, #HowHotIsHolt

Me: OMG you guys. What if they monitor our messages?

Isaiah: They don’t.

Emery: Who cares if they do? So drinks?

Me: Fine. One.

Isaiah: Do ever feel like our group messages are a bit like having ADHD? We’re all over the place.

Kinsley: Yeah, but we all follow along.

Me: Some of us have to work, people. I’m out.

I click the small X in the upper right hand corner of the message and close it out. Then I gather my folder, my list of recommendations, and notebook, and head to the conference room where I’m scheduled to meet with Mr. Perez. I’m surprised to find him already waiting for me when I arrive, as I wasn’t expecting him for another ten minutes.

“Mr. Perez.” I smile at him and reach out my hand. “I’m Saige Phillips. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He immediately stands up and pulls my hand into his, shaking it. “Please, call me Sergio.” His accent is thick, but he speaks English very well. He’s dressed in a gray tailored suit, no tie, with a white dress shirt. His dark hair is short and styled back off his face, and from the looks of him, he can’t be over thirty. He’s the spitting image of Enrique Iglesias, right down to the five o’clock shadow.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Water?”

“Scotch.” He grins; his white teeth stand out against his tan skin. “On the rocks, please.”

I manage to keep my face straight. It’s early for alcohol. I normally offer that to my afternoon clients, but scotch on the rocks it is. If he’s going to be spending more than fifty million dollars with us, who am I to deny the man a scotch?

There is a small mini-bar at the end of the conference room. With the clientele we keep, it’s important that we have all the amenities, including a fully stocked bar. I deliver a glass of scotch to Mr. Perez, who has since returned to his seat at the head of the conference room table. A power move. I see it all the time with these clients.

I smile and take the seat to the right of him, pulling out my recommendations. “Mr. Perez—”

“Sergio,” he interrupts me as he adjusts his sleeve and plays with his watch. A Rolex, of course.

“Sergio.” I shift my eyes from his watch to his eyes and smile at him kindly. As I’ve stated before, I’m very good at my job. “I’ve had a chance to go through your requirements and requests. I agree with all of them, but did want to show you a few additional options for this aircraft.”

Pulling sketches from my folder, I proceed to show him alternative interior color choices, accent metals, and woods, as well as additional custom technology packages outside of his initial needs.

He smiles, nods, and listens carefully as I walk through every option. I’m obsessive about documenting every detail so that we can place the needed purchases and get his plane customized as quickly as possible. He accepts every recommendation I present, and I fight back a smile as I silently pat myself on the back.

As I finish my notes, he leans back in his chair, propping his left foot onto his right knee. “You’re very beautiful, Ms. Phillips.”

My heart thrums, and I take a deep breath. I keep my eyes cast down on my notebook and don’t look up to him. I’m asserting my power now. “Thank you,” I respond politely.

“You do good work. But a beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be working.” I now raise my head and look at him. He rubs his chin with one hand while strumming his fingers on the table with his other. “You should let your man take care of you. I’m assuming you do have a boyfriend, Ms. Phillips.” His dark eyes twinkle as he flirts with me.

“It’s Saige, and I do have a boyfriend,” I tell him firmly, although I’m not entirely sure I do. Truthfully, I would’ve said it whether Holt and I were together or not. I’m not giving this * an inch of me. I keep my smile professional and as warm as I can muster. “And I disagree with you. I enjoy my job very much, and the last thing I need is a man taking care of me.” My voice hitches nervously. I can feel his eyes on me as I stand up and begin to gather the papers that are spread out across the conference room table, shoving them back into the project folder.

Sergio follows my lead and stands up quickly, adjusting his suit coat. He leans in, and I can smell his cologne. It’s spicy, but light. “Well then, I’m glad you’ve found a career that makes you happy.” His pink lips twist into a devious smile and I swallow hard. With my papers in hand, I step forward and extend my arm, guiding Mr. Perez toward the conference room door. He leans in to me again, the smell of scotch heavy on his breath. “Because there is nothing you couldn’t have sold me today.” He wraps his fingers around my forearm.

“Thank you,” I say nervously, pulling my arm out of his grasp.

“Please, you first.” He ushers me in front of him. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Ms. Phillips. I hope to continue this relationship.”

My stomach turns. Relationship? “Likewise.” I offer a tight smile as we step out into the main hallway of the Jackson-Hamilton offices. “I’ll be in touch with an updated estimate, and we’ll proceed from there.” I reach out my hand to shake his again. Even with clients that I don’t like, or that upset me, I always remain professional. Always. His dark eyes slowly take me in from head to toe and he licks his lips before he grins.