“I said I want to talk to the owner, capisce?” the loud grating voice says to me.

Sigh.

Twenty-nine years old and I still have to deal with this bullshit.

“Do you how to read, Mr. Capello?” I point to the golden name plate hanging right behind me, the one with my name on it. “Do you know what CEO stands for?”

“Yes, yes,” he waves, brushing me off with his thick Italian accent. “And I want to talk to this Tess you speak off.”

“Nice to meet you then.” Leaning toward him, I offer him my hand. With a suspicious expression on his face, he takes the seat on the other side of my desk and grabs my hand. I actually have to force a smile. “My name’s Tess, and I’m the Chief Executive Officer of Domina Designs.”

Jesus. Is it that surprising that a woman can become CEO of her own company in the 21st century? Judging by the look of surprise on this asshole’s face, you’d say I’ve just told him that CEO stands for Cranky Evil Ogre.

“Very interesting,” he laughs, grabbing both ends of his mustache and twirling them upward. “Una donna, huh? Fascinating. I thought you were the, huh, segretaria?”

“Does this look like a secretary’s office?” I ask, showing him the palm of my hands as I invite him to look around him. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer an expansive view of Queens downtown. Not exactly Fifth Avenue or Central Park, but it’s still New York City we’re talking about in here. On the right wall hangs an original Pollock which I bought on auction for a cool $1.7 million. The hand knotted rug under my desk has been shipped straight from Morocco.

That’s right, ladies. I’m every inch the fucking CEO that any other alpha male asshole will be in a romance novel.

I mean, think about it. Who’s fucking stronger? Men?

Or Woman?

Yeah, I capitalized the W. Because at the end of the day, we’re the stronger of the two.

Sure, a man might be able to open jars for you and lift heavy objects. But guess who’s in bed when they get a scrape or a cold? Guess whose world collapses and they become little boys the moment they get the sniffles?

That’s right. The alpha male hero.

Now women, we’re a stronger lot for sure. Every month we’re in excruciating pain for several days. But if we want that pain to stop, we have to get pregnant. And then give birth. Six pounds coming out of you? Imagine that alpha male doing that? He’d shit himself—but this isn’t mpreg so it doesn’t count.

After everything we have to put up with, after everything we’ve accomplished, the fact that there are unattractive asshole slobs like this sitting across from my desk thinking they know more than me pisses me off so much.

“Well, huh.” Scratching his chin, he looks deep in thought as his eyes find the Pollock. “Did your kid paint that?”

“That’s a Pollock.”

“Ah, sì, I agree. It’s bollocks. But he’ll get better, don’t you worry.”

Patting the front of his purple shirt, his belly stretching the fabric thin, he lets out a raucous laugh.

I seriously hope this book turns into an action novel, because I’m about to kiss this guy’s ass. Twirling his mustache like a second-grade villain from a B-movie, he slaps his free hand down on my desk, making my laptop jump in place.

“Very well,” he says finally as I try to not roll my eyes. “As you Americans say, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?”

Finally.

“Well, Mr. Capello, I assume your associates have already informed you about the deal in place. You’ll be providing us enough furniture from your top-of-the-shelves brands, enough to float our stock for six months, and then we’ll negotiate later in the year. As per the terms I discussed with your associates, $5.7 million should be enough to cover it, and give you a nice profit margin for you to show your stockholders.”

“Oh, but there must be a mistake.” Tapping his fingers against my desk, he purses his lips before offering me a wide smile. In his eyes I can see a glint I’ve seen countless times during my life as a business woman—it says I have a cock, you don’t. “I thought those were just opening terms. They are unacceptable, of course. My best brands are all designer pieces, and I believe you can agree with me when I say that $5.7 million doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

I wonder if my letter opener would be enough to chop this idiot’s balls off.

“Then what would be a fair number?” I ask.

“Let’s say, huh, $25 million,” he grins, leaning back on his seat so much that, for a split second, I think he’s going to tumble back. He doesn’t, unfortunately.

“Listen, Mr. Capello—”

“Ah, please, call me Mario.” Resting his elbows on the desk, he leans toward me and gives me the creepiest wink I’ve ever gotten in my entire life. His eyebrows wiggle as he does it, and I can’t stop thinking that he looks like a half-blind manatee.

Sexy.

“That number doesn’t add up...Mario.”

“I see, I see...too much money for your company, I take it? I understand, of course. But what a shame!” Clapping his hands together, he sighs heavily, a morose expression on his face. Little does this asshole know that I have enough money to buy his entire fucking company. Lucky for him, I can’t be bothered with having to fly to Italy all the damn time. “Maybe we can make some sort of arrangement?”

“An arrangement, you say?” I mimic his body’s language, propping my elbows on the table and leaning toward him as I bat my eyelashes. This asshole wants to play games? Very well.

“Yes, Tess, an arrangement,” he whispers, his smile widening so much that I almost think he’s going to tear his mustache in half. Reaching for me, he lays his sausage fingers on top of my hand. “You see...I like you. You’re a very beautiful donna, sì.”

“Oh, you’re going to make me blush, Mario.” I give him a shy laugh, covering my mouth as I do it. His cheeks are growing red, and even his mustache seems to be dancing over his upper lips.

“Ah, but you look so pretty when you blush,” he says, trying to be smooth but sounding like a child molester.

“Oh, Mario!” I swat his arm playfully, and then I get up from my chair sensuously. I walk around my desk, moving toward him, and his jaw hangs open as he takes in the way my tight black dress is wrapped around each and every one of my body’s curves.

“Perhaps, you’re right, Mario,” I continue, lasciviously running my tongue between my lips as I look him in the eye. Leaning toward him, I rest my hands on the armrests of his chair. His eyes dart straight to my cleavage, and his chest stops moving as he holds his breath. “Maybe we can make a special arrangement. A secret one. How would you like that?”

“Oh.” He breathes out. “I’d like that very much.”

As I lean in even more, I see his hand moving from the corner of my eye. His fingers head straight toward my ass, but I’m faster than he expects me to be—grabbing his hand by the wrist, I push it down on the table. It slaps the wooden top with a loud bang, and then I spin around and grab the letter opener, burying its sharp tip right between his index and middle finger.

“Dios mio!” He cries out, large beads of sweat appearing on his forehead out of nowhere. “What are you doing, Tess?”

“Shut up, Mario,” I tell him, turning back to him and placing the tip of my heel right between his legs. “One wrong move and swear to God, you’ll have to call Luigi to take my shoe out of your ass.”

“You are crazy! Crazy, I tell you!”

“You want crazy?” I ask him, now my turn to grin. “If you want crazy come by on Fridays. This is just a regular Tuesday for me. Now,” I continue, reaching for his tie and pushing the knot up against his throat. “About the little arrangement you had in mind...I have a counter proposal.”

“A...a counter proposal?” He stammers, trying to suck in the air as I keep on tightening his tie.

“Yes, and I think you’ll like this one.” One more smile, and then I wink at him. I’m going to make him my little bitch. “I won’t sue you personally for sexual harassment. I’ll let you keep your balls. I won’t cut your dick off. I won’t bury your company in lawsuits for dealing in bad faith. And you give me what I want for 4 million dollars.”

He’s sputtering. So I continue. “Also, I’ll stop myself from buying every single stock I can get my hands on and prevent you from making anything. I’ll personally make it my mission to destroy your company financially and reputationally. And by the time I’m done with you, motherfucker, you won’t even be able to get a job as a plumber on a fucking video game because you’ll be castrated and homeless, you stupid, ugly piece of lying shit.”

“Okay, okay,” he starts flapping his arms, his eyes bulging as beads of sweat drip down his forehead.

“Do we have a deal?” I ask, baring my teeth.

“Deal, deal! We have a deal!” he whimpers, almost crying. Another few seconds and I think he’s going to piss himself.

“Good.” Using the tip of my foot, I give his chair a push and send the asshole spinning to the other end of my office. He crashes against the wall, stumbles onto the floor, and then rolls to his back as he loosens the knot on his tie.

“Oh, and Mario…” I say, staring at the way the letter opener seems stuck on the perfect mahogany desk. “Let’s make it $3 million. I’ll need the rest to repair this,” I finish, wrapping my fingers around the letter opener and pulling it out with a groan.

“Americani! Sono tutti pazzi!” He mutters under his breath as he finally manages to go up to his feet. We’re all crazy, he says? Well, maybe we just don’t like to be pushed around. With one hand on the wall, he starts dragging his feet toward the office’s door.

“Tutti pazzi indeed,” I smile as I sit down on my chair. The CEO’S chair. As Mario pushes the door open, I give him a little wave. “Come back anytime, Mr. Capello!”

When he finally slams the door behind him, I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Seems like my day job has more to do with putting up with assholes than taking executive action. Whenever guys like Mario Capello see me, they either assume I’m a secretary or that I’m some trust fund kid.

Well, I’m neither.

What I have, I earned.

Domina Designs is one of the most important boutique furnishing companies in the state because of my hard work, not because I inherited a shitload of money. To be fair, my father taught me the ropes—but he did it out of the cramped carpentry he worked in for most of his life. If anything, I inherited his knowledge; the rest, I conquered with my own sweat.

“Ma’am,” my secretary buzzes me from the outside. “Your lawyer has just called. Told me to say it was urgent.”

“Thank you!” I say as I grab the phone and dial Ashley’s number. She picks up on the first tone. “Please, Ashley, tell me this is really important and that you’re not calling to talk about Taylor.”

“C’mon, girl,” she laughs, and the way she does makes me picture her twirling her hair around one finger, just like she always does. “I’m not that obsessed.”

“Uh-uh,” I say, not convinced.

“Listen,” she says to me. “Are you working late today?”

“No, I don’t think so. Just finished closing a deal and—” but she doesn’t let me finish.

“Another asshole you kicked in the balls then?” She laughs, and I can’t help but laugh back. Girls will be girls.

“Maybe. Aside from that, there’s not much going on. I’ll just spend the rest of the day with Accounting; they want to make sure our books are in order. You know how it goes.”

“I do. And I also know that you need to get your ass to Clarendon Tower tonight. There’s a board meeting scheduled for tonight, and I think you’ll like what’s on the agenda.”

“A board meeting? But aren’t we’re out of board presidents after Jeremiah Hoody?”

“I know, right? Just make sure you’re there. This is big.”

“What do you mean by—?” I start to ask, but she cuts me off before I have the chance to finish my sentence.

“Tess, just know this one thing…” She hesitates for a moment, her words hanging in the air, and then I can almost feel her smile from the other side of the line. “Your life’s about to change, girl. Trust me.”