Letting out a sigh, he took off his blazer and laid it across my exposed thighs.
“Keep that right there, or we’re going to have more problems than we already do…” He shut me inside and returned to the wheel.
He pulled off, keeping his gaze straight ahead, and I tried to ignore the intense beating in my chest.
Ten minutes later, he pulled over in front of one of his parks and looked over at me.
“So,” he said. “Want to be honest about what they were saying about me?”
“Not really.” I swallowed. “But I can show you.”
I handed him the notebook, and he flipped it open.
He gritted his teeth as he read, and I could practically feel the heat rising off him with every page he flipped.
Unsure of what to do or say, I pulled out my phone and started playing a new word game.
Superfluous.Check.
Superation.Yep.
Superegoist?How fitting…
“No wonder you don’t get that many clients.” Mr. Hudson’s voice interrupted my next round. “Why are there so many cracks on your screen?”
“Because I’ve dropped it a few times.”
“That looks like more than a few.” He closed the binder. “They sell screen protectors these days.”
“I’m aware, sir,” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “But since the back of my phone is broken in three places, I’m going to replace the entire phone when I have the time.”
“Allow me to replace it now,” he said. “You’re going to be extremely busy working under me, and I’m not going to play another bullshit round of the ‘I can’t hear you’ game again.”
My cheeks flushed red. “I really couldn’t hear you.”
“I’m sure.” He placed the folder in my lap. “You have until tomorrow evening to come up with a plan to counter all their silly points about me.”
“I think it’s going to take a bit longer than that.”
“Then how much should I deduct from the money I paid you?” He looked over at me. “Dock fifty thousand for every extra day.”
“It might be possible by tomorrow.”
“I thought so.”
He drove through the morning traffic, never looking over at me again, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened every time I shifted in my seat.
I swear every time we hit a stoplight—or maybe it was every time I crossed and uncrossed my legs—he bit back a growl.
Or maybe this is all in my head.
THE AGENT
CHLOE
For some odd reason, this man drove right past two Apple Stores and a Mobile Central Depot.
He seemed locked in a trance, making a phone call every few minutes and directing his digital assistant to read and respond to emails.