“Good to know you have good faith in my decision-making skills.”
“I only have faith in your business decisions, not your personal or publicist ones. Speaking of which, where were you Sunday night? I didn’t see you at the Oasis ribbon cutting ceremony.”
I smiled, but I didn’t answer.
“Ryan,” he repeated, looking confused. “Where were you Sunday?”
“You told me to stop telling you about my sex life months ago. I’m remaining silent because I’m honoring that request.”
“Jesus Christ...” He held up his hands in a mock surrender and headed toward the door. “You’re lucky I’m your brother and CFO.”
“I’m well aware.” I tucked the Drew & Associates card into my pocket and headed to the elevator, taking it straight to the top floor.
“Good morning, Mr. Dalton!” Linda greeted me as soon as I walked by her desk. “Your eleven o’clock just made it through security downstairs. Should I have her wait a bit when she arrives to our floor or send her right in?”
“You can send her right in,” I said. “Did the interns set up the coffee bar and contract tools like I asked?”
“They did, sir.”
“Good. Thank you.” I let myself into my office with my keycard and looked around, making sure everything was exactly how I preferred it. Then I realized, once again, that my office alone was twice the size of Penelope’s entire firm.
I wasn’t sure why I appreciated the fact that her staff didn’t immediately start giving me a rehearsed pitch like the other firms, but I found that quite refreshing. Not only that, but not a single one of them sent me a string of follow up emails with that annoyingly familiar and overused, “So glad you came to see us today!” subject line.
I walked over to my windows and pressed a button—forcing the curtains to draw open and expose a gray and rainy view of Manhattan below. I pushed the coffee cart over to my desk and picked up two cups for me and Penelope.
As I was setting out the sugars, Linda’s voice came over my speakers.
“Miss Lauren has arrived to the floor,” she said. “I’m sending her in now.”
“Thank you, Linda.”
The door opened seconds later and Penelope stepped inside wearing a light beige dress that made me completely forget what the hell we were supposed to be talking about. Her full lips were painted in the same ruby red lipstick she was wearing when we first met and they perfectly matched the apple colored heels she was wearing.
I could literally stare at you all day...
“Good morning, Mr. Dalton.” She walked over to me and extended her hand.
“Good morning, Miss Lauren.” I shook her hand and resisted the urge to pull her closer to me and initiate a much needed round two. “You can have a seat now.”
“You have to let go of my hand first.”
I let it go and waited for her to sit down before doing the same. I watched as she pulled a few colored folders from her briefcase and set them on my desk. She bit her bottom lip and mumbled a few words to herself before looking up at me.
“Would you like some coffee before we begin?” I asked.
“No, not at all. I don’t plan to be here that long.”
“Excuse me?” I raised my eyebrow. “Did you need more time to read over my terms?”
“No, I read them all just fine.” She slid the yellow folder to me. “Here’s the non-disclosure agreement you asked me to sign, so no worries. If another firm calls to ask me about you, I won’t dare tell the truth or let them know that you’re practically a borderline psycho.”
This better be some type of joke... “Come again?”
“You heard me.” She opened another folder, a blue one. “I spent all night researching you and your issues before I read over your terms, so I find it quite ironic that you’re the one who needs a firm to help clean up your public image and work on your behalf, but the things you’re demanding make that completely impossible. In fact, most of what you’re requesting is worth far more than three million dollars, and I can now see why you paid it upfront.”
I started to ask what the hell she was talking about, but she continued to speak.
“First of all, you demand that we don’t book you for any interviews, and you refuse to practice getting any better at them?” She flipped a page. “This is coming from the man who said he can’t live without ‘fucking’ on live morning television last year? I don’t think so.”
“Furthermore,” she said, talking a mile a minute, “I’m not sure why you think you’re above attending strategy sessions with the team, but I’ve never allowed any client to skip those and you won’t be the first. Huge bank account or not.”
“Okay, Penelope, Rachel—whatever you want your name to be today.” I’d had enough of this shit already. “You can get the hell out of my office now.”
“I can get the hell out when I’m finished.” She glared at me, parting her sexy ass lips and I lost my next words.
At that moment, Leo stepped into the room, but he didn’t make his way over. Instead, he simply stood by the door and stared at us, staying far out of Penelope’s view.
“Second of all,” she said, looking down at her folder once more. “You demand that someone from my team be available on a twenty-four hour basis to personally make your coffee, ensure your dry cleaning is handled, and fetch your breakfast and lunch whenever you ask for it. That is never happening at Penelope Lauren & Associates. We are not interested in being a second branch of personal assistants for you.”
“Did you miss the part where I said you could get out of my office?”
“Third...” She ignored me. “You have some nerve to make a list of over fifty ridiculous demands that must be met on a weekly basis. They’re so beyond realistic that I’ll be surprised if any firm agrees to this.” She tossed the folder onto my desk and narrowed her eyes at me. “Even though this has made me see that you are unbearably cocky and impossible, I’ve done you a favor and made a list of things that I think will help soften your image over the next few months. I’ve also printed out the definitions of a few important terms you should know whenever you start searching for your next PR victim.”
I wanted to interrupt her never-ending rant, but I was aroused with every word that fell from her ruby red lips.
“Finally,” she said, standing to her feet. “I wish you all the best in your search for a publicist, Mr. Dalton. And so we’re clear on the last checkbox of your term sheet, I’ll verbally confirm it as you require: No, I will not represent you, and no, I will not agree to agree to any of your outlandish rules. Also, for the record, no I did not receive your handwritten note.” She finally took a breath. “I’ll be sending you a refund of your payment later this afternoon.”
“I personally think you should keep it,” I said, standing. “Maybe you can use it to buy some actual office space.”
“I’d prefer if you used it to buy some damn manners.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I liked you a lot better in my apartment, when I didn’t know who you were.”
I liked you a lot better when my cock was buried inside your pussy...
Before I could get a chance to say those words aloud, Leo walked toward us—clapping as if he’d just witnessed a real-life drama.
“Please don’t go, Miss.” He extended his hand to Penelope. “My name is Leo Dalton and I’m the CFO here. I’m also, unfortunately, Ryan’s brother.”
She looked back and forth between us before shaking his hand. “I’m Penelope Lauren.”
“Well, nice to meet you Penelope,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re not having a better introduction to Dalton International Estates & Realty. I would love to give you a formal tour and talk to you about our company if you’re up to it. I would also really appreciate it if you allowed us to start over.”
“There’s no need to start over,” I said, pulling out the business card he’d given me earlier. “Miss Lauren clearly doesn’t want to play by our rules and we have another option we can call.”