by Lindsey Hart
His house was pretty much the same story. Entirely soulless. Put together by a designer more interested in a commission than in what he truly wanted.
Trey had just a second between the time his hand left the door handle and Ambi’s head jerked up from the notepad in front of her to observe her.
She’d always had this incredible head of raven black hair. She hated haircuts and it was pretty obvious that she still had that strange opinion that hairdressers were akin to the devil. A river of sleek silky hair flowed down her back, spilling over the table and chair in long blue-black currents. She was dressed professionally, at least from what he could see of her above the table. A black dress that was tight enough to show off the fact that she had nice breasts, but not tight enough to be in bad taste for a business meeting. It nipped in at her narrow waist. She’d always looked good in dark and bright colors and she’d paired the dress with a fire engine red cardigan and a vintage gold necklace with a bold pendant that boasted a cluster of jade stones.
“Miss Danby,” Trey said, letting the words roll off his tongue, smooth and delicious like burnt sugar.
Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice. It only took about three seconds for her beautiful features- and god, she was beautiful- to contort in horror. Her huge blue eyes nearly popped out of the sockets. Her dark brows shot straight up her forehead. A bright flush of pink appeared on her delicate skin right above the high slashes of her cheekbones. Her nostrils flared and her perfect bow lips, done in a shade of bright red to match her sweater, parted in shock.
“You!” She exclaimed, half accusation and half slur before she scrambled to push her chair back.
The thing was huge and Ambi flailed as her feet kicked, which was a mistake, given that the chairs were ergonomic, obscenely expensive and all that bullshit. They were quite springy at the back and instead of holding up Ambi’s weight and stalling her momentum, the chair kicked back, sending her tumbling head over heels straight to the floor.
“Holy shit!” Trey cursed under his breath.
Ambi let out a scream of surprise as he rounded the table. It only took him a second to reach her and she was indeed wearing a dress. And it was not tight enough to hide the fact that she had bright red lace panties on beneath.
Who the hell wore bright red lace panties to a business meeting? Fuck. Now he wasn’t just nervous as hell, he was also hard as hell. He bent, taking care to hide the fact that there was a fucking camping party going on in his pants, tents pitched all over the place and stared at Ambi.
He offered his hand, the one not still clutching the cheque, but she looked at him like she’d rather eat a shit sandwich than accept his help.
She pushed herself to her feet, pulled down her dress, adjusted her sweater, and brushed the clinging strands of her hair from her face. God, her hair. It trailed well past her waist.
Trey straightened, threw the cheque down on the table, and slammed his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that his dick really appreciated her being there. It was like the bastard wanted to greet her after five long years. Shake her hand, maybe. Her mouth…
Fuck again. Trey did his best to block out the mental images that came to mind the second he saw Ambi. It wasn’t his fault. They had a history. There was enough material there for him to draw on for years to come. Even if they didn’t, she was gorgeous. Five nine, but curvy in every place that mattered. Annnnnnd apparently wearing red lace panties. Maybe she’d known all along he was going to crash her meeting and she’d come dressed to slay.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed, and there went that assumption. She bared her teeth, genuinely pissed.
“It’s good to see you too, Ambi.”
“Don’t Ambi me,” she shot back, her face suffused with rage. “It’s Amberina for you. Better yet, don’t address me at all. You have no right to use my name in any capacity. What are you doing here? I’m not meeting with you.”
“Well, I work here,” Trey started, being purposely obnoxious. Neither of them moved to take a seat.
God. Seeing Ambi was like a punch right to the throat. It stole all his breath and made even the most basic functions, like swallowing impossible. He was pretty sure he might actually have a river of saliva trailing out of the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t want to take his hands out of his pants pockets to check seeing as that would give away just how much he enjoyed seeing her.
“And secondly, you are meeting with me. I’ve decided to be your contact for this. Sarah is busy with other things and I thought I’d help her out where I could.”
Ambi blinked. “Help out your admin assistant? Or whoever’s assistant she is? Doubtful. People like you don’t get your hands dirty and you don’t stoop to mingle with the common folk.” The words were venomous and before he could react, Ambi grabbed up her black tote from the floor. She swept her flowing hair over her shoulder. “See you. Enjoy finding someone else to plan your party.”
“What? No!” Ambi might be fast, but he was faster. Trey pretty much ran to block the door and he stood there, an obnoxious as hell tree that he knew Ambi couldn’t budge even if she tried. Judging by the way she looked at him like she wouldn’t touch him with a hundred-foot pole, she wasn’t going to try.
Her brows knitted together, and her lips pursed. “I am not under any obligation to take this contract. Nothing was signed or agreed on. No money was exchanged. I would never, ever work for you. Ever. So, dream fucking on, Trey. Nice try.”
He slowly crossed his arms, praying that Ambi wouldn’t look down, because he was pretty sure that he was still indecent south of the border. Thankfully, Ambi always had been one for maintaining eye contact, even when she was pissed.
She was even prettier when she was in a rage like someone opened her up and filled her full of fire, sunshine, and life. She’d always lived in a way that most people didn’t. Like she floated instead of walked, sparkled and dazzled in bright color when everyone else was shades of foggy grey.
He had to admit that he felt a little drunk, like his head was going to lift right off his shoulders, and no, it wasn’t because Ambi was looking at him like she’d rather see his head on a pike.
“I’ll double your asking price. And I’ll make sure that every contact we have in this city and beyond knows who planned our very successful event. I’ll make sure your business increases tenfold this year. You’ll have to hire some real employees.”
Ambi’s eyes sparked. “How do you know I don’t have any employees?”
He shrugged as casually as he could while he cursed himself inwardly for being massively stupid. Then again, he’d always been pretty stupid when it came to Ambi. At least in the tongue-tied, fall over your feet, hopeless kind of way. She’d owned him, every bit of him, from the first time he set eyes on her crossing the college campus with a butt load of books in her arms, her black hair trailing behind her like a gothic cloak.
“I don’t. I was just saying. You’ll have to hire more, you’ll have so much business coming in. I imagine that since you’re here in person, you do most of the work yourself.”
Ambi cocked her head to the side. She gave him two seconds in which she pretended to consider his offer before she lifted her right hand and flipped him off. Right there in his own conference room after she’d just tumbled so ungracefully to the floor. In a freaking dress. She had the nerve to flip him off and laugh in his face. Except she wasn’t laughing. She was dead serious. She’d rather spit on him than accept his money or his offer to help her.
“Please. Let me make it up to you in any way I can. Ambi I-”
“Stop.” Her bird changed to a flat open palm that she held up like a stop sign. “Nope. Not taking your money. Not taking anything from you. I tried that once. It didn’t work out so well. Really, that was your loss and not mine.” She swept up to him, so close that the intoxicating scent of lemons reached him when he breathed in. He pressed a little harder into the door. “Oh, and Trey,” Ambi murmured. “It really is your l
oss. Now. Get out of the way before you embarrass yourself.” Her eyes flicked down, down to his slacks where his cock was trying to high five her for taking a stand.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. None of the meetings had gone down how he thought it was going to go. The cheque still sat, the amount unfilled, on the board room table. Worse, he was pretty sure that his normal bronzed complexion was ten shades of scarlet.
“Fine.” He stepped to the left, leaving the door open. “But you will plan this party. We’re not done here.”
“Maybe you aren’t, but I am.” With another pointed glance at his groin, and a loud scoff, like what was there didn’t impress her at all, Ambi flipped her hair, set her tote on her shoulder, and stalked out of the room.
Trey wanted to go after her, but he’d had about as much humiliation as he could handle for the hour. Cursing under his breath, he slapped the cheque off the table and slammed it into his pocket. Ambi’s sea glass eyes still haunted him as he stomped his way back to his office.
CHAPTER 3
Amberina
Gross. Just- just gross. Fucking Trey Hartman.
No, just Trey Hartman. The f-bomb and Trey’s name didn’t belong in the same sentence. It was bad enough the creep tried to trap her into some stupid contract, planning a wretched party. It was bad enough that he’d obviously looked into her. That was creepy in itself, but then he had to come into that board room looking like a gorgeous stalker and she had to react all wrong and get so flustered that she literally flipped right off her chair, and then he had to go and make it obvious that for the past five years, he’d probably used her as spank bank material by popping a very obvious hard-on right in front of her.
Ambi smacked her steering wheel with an open palm. She relished the sting and focused on the pain. Anything was better than thinking about Trey and his slacks. Or about anything they’d done in the past. She would have liked to say he had a small dick and she’d faked it every single time. She could lie to herself about a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.
“Why?” She smacked her steering wheel again. Then again. A third time. A fourth. “Why, why, whyyyyyy?”
Overnight she’d made some plans for that money that was supposed to be coming her way. She actually did plan on hiring someone. Worse, she was going to bonus herself and treat her mom to a week in Mexico right after Christmas as a surprise. She’d even found a perfect resort for a budget price.
A rap at her window scared her out of her skin. She realized she probably looked wild-eyed and crazed as she rolled down her window to find a middle-aged man with a big paunch and a complexion that was a tad too red along the cheeks and nose, bending at her window.
“Scuse me, ma’am, I noticed your meter’s run out. I figured you were moving, so I wouldn’t have to write you a ticket.”
The guy’s breath was rancid. It smelled like onions and stale coffee and Ambi’s stomach lurched. The meter dude, a middle-aged guy with beady, sharp eyes and oily hair protruding from beneath his ball cap, ran his tongue along his bottom lip like he’d relish writing her a ticket for the least infraction. She resisted the urge to snap all over the guy’s ass. You win more flies with honey than with vinegar, but at the moment she just wanted to get the hell out of there.
“I’m sorry. Yes. I’m moving. Right now.” She moved her hand to the keys dangling from the ignition and was ready to turn it when a deeper, smoother voice, overrode any good sense she had left. Her hand fell away.
“She’s actually staying parked there for a few more minutes. Here. This should cover it.”
Trey. Effing Trey Hartman. Her worst nightmare. God. He deserved a double steaming poo pile for this.
Ambi turned her head just enough that it looked like she was still looking forward, but she could see Trey peel off a bill with a large number in the corner and hand it over to the parking creep. She could have sworn her meter wasn’t out of time at all. She’d planned for a much longer meeting in H&H.
The guy, creep number two of the day after Trey himself, pocketed what was probably a hundred-dollar bill, flashed a crooked smile at Trey and sauntered off whistling. Ambi’s stomach lurched again.
Trey leaned into her open window and she wasn’t fast enough to crank it back up. “Your meter still has half an hour left on it.” He purred in his liquid velvet voice. “Looks like I just saved you from- well- who knows.”
“What the fuck?” Ambi shoved her door open so hard that it bumped against Trey’s shins. He didn’t back up on time and winced, shifting from foot to foot. She stayed seated in the car, clutching the door. “That guy was just doing a bit of disgusting flirting or something. He was likely just checking to see if I was alright, seeing as I was going a little apeshit on my steering wheel.” She swallowed hard. She shouldn’t have admitted that. “He was not going to molest me. The door was locked anyway, shithead. You, on the other hand, stalked me, creeped me, and then made it pretty obvious you had some molesting of your own in mind.”
Trey sighed so hard it sounded like it hurt. “Look, Ambi…” he raked a hand through his gorgeous mahogany hair. It was always just a tad past needing a haircut. Not shaggy. No, it was sexy. The kind of hair every woman dreams of running her fingers through.
The rest of him was insanely gorgeous too. Unfortunately, Trey didn’t just inherit a ton of money from his parents. He’d got the best of their DNA too. It was beyond her how two mortals could make someone who looked like a god.
He knew it though, so it kind of spoiled his bronzed skin, sharp cheekbones, angled jaw, perfect nose, and lips. He was well over six feet and jacked, naturally athletic and rich enough to make up for anything he lacked with personal trainers and someone to cook all his meals for him. He made that two-thousand-dollar suit look good. It looked really good. Again, all that deliciousness was basically like the package she wanted to send him. Shit wrapped in a pretty box with a shiny bow. Gorgeous and flawless on the outside. Stinking and nasty on the inside.
“Don’t use my name,” she barked. “We are not on a first name or even a last name basis and we never will be again. As far as I’m concerned, we have no history. The only thing you taught me was not to trust assholes, and I learned my lesson well, so yeah. We’re done here.”
Unfortunately, Trey parked one of his massive legs in front of her car door so that when she tried to shut it, she couldn’t budge it. He was too close, and she had to let her hand fall away or she’d risk grazing his leg and that was not going to happen.
“I was serious when I said I’d double the price. I know you have something you could do with that money. I’ll even throw in a trip somewhere nice as a bonus.”
“You can’t buy me! You had me once, Trey. You had me. Body, heart, soul, everything else. Everything I was and would be. You traded me away for your bank account, a nice house and some cars, so no. You won’t buy me with that money.”
Trey didn’t budge. Worse, he leaned down so that they were level. She had to meet his gaze or risk admitting defeat by letting him know what his proximity was doing to her. It was throwing her into the worse internal disarray. Her insides cramped into a jumbled mess. Her hands were so clammy she was amazed they didn’t slip off the wheel. Her heart pounded into a mess all over the place.
“Don’t be too proud. You need this. You always wanted to own your own business. This is your chance to really succeed.”
“I’d rather go under than take any help from you.”
Trey shook his head and made a tsking sound. “Always so proud. If I truly don’t mean anything to you and you’re over what we were, then you wouldn’t mind taking this job. The old Ambi would do it just to stick it to me. To prove that she could. To prove that I was the idiot and I was wrong and she’d take my money just so I had less of it, she’d go on that vacation, enjoy the hell out of it, and send me a photo of her flipping me off while drinking twelve dollar beers by the pool.”
“You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you? Me in a bikini next to the pool.”
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“I wasn’t imagining you in a bikini, but if that’s the photo you wanted to send, I wouldn’t object.”
Trey had the best eyes. He’d always had the best eyes. Dark green. Sharp and pretty, deep and serene, like a cross between emeralds, cut grass, and a tropical pool.
Her hands tightened on the wheel. He was right. He was freaking right, and he knew it. Trey was the enemy and it was a dangerous enemy who knew every single one of her weaknesses. She had to figure out a way to beat him at his own game. Maybe he was right. The old Ambi wouldn’t let someone walk all over her. She wouldn’t let her pride get in the way of her dreams. She would have taken that money and laughed about how it grew her business. How Trey was the loser at the end of it. And she’d take that damn trip, on his dollar. He had her and he knew it. She couldn’t say no, because that would now mean admitting defeat. It wasn’t a matter of pride or taking the moral high ground at all.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I want twelve grand to plan your dumb office party. I’ll make sure everyone even gets little fartsy favors. The live band will be the best in Minneapolis, and I’ll hire a fucking magician. The hall will be spectacular, and people will talk about the food and the amazing desserts for the rest of the year. You’ll look like a genius and everyone will sing your praises instead of realizing what cold-hearted, depraved bastards you and your father really are.”
Trey winked one of those gorgeous eyes at her. His eyelashes were sinful. Too thick and long to belong on a man at all. “Sounds like a plan, Stan.”
Fuck you and Stan too. Or no. No, rather, just fuck off. “I want two tickets to the nicest resort in Mexico for a week. All inclusive. Everything paid for. In January, when it’s too cold here to even live.”
Trey’s dark brows drew together and for a split second, there was a shimmer of hope that made that aching pinch in her belly so much worse. Her hands nearly strangled the wheel. She was so disgusted with herself she wanted to send her own self a bag of shit.
