“All right. Tomorrow works,” he drawls. “But it’ll have to be first thing. I have a few stipulations too.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“I’ll need you to consult with me on everything. Every choice, every decision you need to make. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but there’s a certain aesthetic I want at both locations and I need to ensure your choices meet that aesthetic.”
I nod once. Nothing unusual there. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
“And if I don’t like what you suggest, you won’t try to convince me otherwise. I have final word.” He wraps his fingers around his beer bottle and brings it to his mouth, taking a drink, gorgeously sexy when he swallows, which is insane.
He makes me insane. His scent, the way he watches me with that calculated, hot gaze. His mere presence warms my skin, sets fire to my blood. Floods me with memories of our one amazing night together. I both cherish and hate those memories.
And he’s drawing out the suspense on purpose. I’m literally sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear what he might say next. “I also want you to move in with me,” he finishes once he sets the bottle down.
My mouth drops open, shock rushing through my veins. “Move in with you?” I squeak, clearing my throat.
“I’ll need you on site every single day. I’m rushing this project. All decisions we need to make must be quick. I can’t have you coming back and forth from San Francisco. I need you with me. Every day. Every night, until the project is finished. At the very least you can stay at Hush.”
“Oh, I get exactly what you want from me.” A slow-burning rage sweeps over me, making me shake. I push back my chair and stand, glaring down at him. “I’m not going to be another one of your sexual conquests.”
Tilting his head back, he watches me, calm as ever. “Don’t be angry, Ivy. I’m not asking you to have sex with me in order for you to have this project. I’m not that much of an ass**le.”
God, his words sting. What sort of woman does he think I am? “Yeah, right. Next thing I know I’m flat on my back in your bed. No thank you. You’re not going to bribe me with career recognition either.” Bending, I grab my purse from the floor and sling it over my shoulder.
“I know the idea of staying with me doesn’t make you comfortable, but it’s best for the project considering the timeline. Besides, I’m not asking you to wait for me naked in my bed every night, though the idea is appealing.” The arrogance dripping from his voice makes me want to hit something. Preferably him. “Come on, I know you haven’t forgotten how easy it was between us that night, Ivy,” he murmurs, his voice low. Sexy.
Ugh.
His words enflame me, filling me with both lust and anger. I really hate that I still want him. “You’re a bastard,” I say through clenched teeth before I turn and head toward the door, desperate to escape the suddenly too warm, too confining restaurant.
I hear him call my name. Hear his chair scrape across the floor as he stands and starts to come after me. But I refuse to look back. Choose to ignore the hostess who’s calling after me that she still has my coat.
Pushing open the door, I step out into the dark night, deeply breathing the cool air. A flash goes off in my face, I swear I hear them call Archer’s name, and I head in the opposite direction, avoiding the paparazzi at all costs. How could I forget they follow Archer everywhere?
God. My head is spinning, and not just from the wine. The stupid photographer is just the tip of my overwhelming iceberg—that Archer demands I work for him. Going above my head to ensure I have no choice but to work for him is infuriating. Never mind that we had sex and he has to bring it up. Like he’s trying to use that night against me. I could blame it on the champagne I drank too much of, I suppose.
So freaking embarrassing.
Worse? I know I would’ve done it without the champagne. I can’t blame too much alcohol on my one night with Archer. I was completely sober.
But he’s an ass**le. A controlling, arrogant jerk who thinks I’m some sort of spineless, stupid girl. I wish I could refuse him but he’s effectively trapped me. And why didn’t Sharon talk to me about this? I can’t quite wrap my head around how he made all of this happen and so quickly.
He’s just that powerful, that influential to gain the things—or people—he wants with a simple phone call or snap of his fingers.
Not knowing which way to go, I turn right, heading blindly into the night. Cars pass by, I hear the loud rumble of a city bus as it speeds down the street, and I blink hard, my strides quick, my heart pumping like crazy. A shiver moves through me and I rub my arms with my hands, wishing I had my coat. It’s a total favorite; I love that jacket and I’m pissed I left it in the restaurant like an idiot.
God, he’s so distracting, it’s unfair. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? So freaking irresistible?
I increase my pace, furious at my thoughts. I can hear him right now, following behind me, his determined steps hitting the sidewalk, his huffs of aggravation.
Good. I’m irritating him. Glad to know the feeling is mutual. I need to get away from him.
Far, far away.
“Ivy.” The man is as tall as a god with legs as long as my entire body, meaning he easily catches up with me. His strong fingers clamp around my upper arm and he turns me so I face him. “Don’t run away from me.”
His words are spoken as a demand. “Let me go.” I struggle against his hold and he tightens his fingers, making it impossible to escape.