“Does it?” Ms. Gabriel turns back, dropping her hand away from the handle and facing me head on. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m not in the business of ruining lives, Ms. Gabriel. If I’d known you were coming in to negotiate some kind of lease, we could have started there. Or I could have directed you to the appropriate department.”

She gives me an exasperated half-smile. “I find it’s more effective to start at the source of the problem.” This woman fears absolutely nothing. The more she says, the more I want her.

It makes no sense whatsoever, that this hurricane of a woman should interest me at all. She’s exactly the kind of distraction my father warned me about fifteen years ago, after his last romantic entanglement went sour. He’d come home in the middle of the night reeking of the bar, causing such a commotion in the entryway of the condo in Midtown we were living in that I disengaged myself from the date I’d brought home—a redhead, I can’t remember her name—and gone to see what the fuss was about. He’d grabbed the front of my shirt in both fists. “It’s not worth it. It’s never worth it, son. Focus on getting ahead.” Then he’d stumbled into his bedroom and shut the door, not coming out for two days.

My cock is painfully hard against the fabric of my pants. As casually as I can, I move back behind my desk and take a seat. “I’m assuming this involves one of the properties I recently acquired.”

Isabella’s eyes, green like the jungle, green like the leaves that surround a panther about to pounce, follow my every movement. She bites her lip, then seems to make a decision. She moves across the office, her hips swaying underneath a black skirt suit that hugs her curves. Every movement sends fire through my chest. I want to bend her over the desk, shove her skirt up around her hips, and teach her a lesson or two about how to be polite. The confidence radiating off of her tells me that she’d be absolutely filthy in bed. Or on the floor. Or on her knees, right here in my office. I’d love to fist her long, dark hair in my hands until it’s a rumpled mess, far from the perfect state it’s currently in.

She takes a seat, back perfectly straight. “Does Hamilton Heights ring any bells to you, Mr. Pace?” Her tone drips with sarcasm, like I couldn’t possibly remember one building out of the tens of buildings I’ve “destroyed” throughout Manhattan. If only she knew...

I smile at her like she’s the most important partner I’ve ever met with. “Of course. Eight stories, currently a walk-up. Needs significant renovation, but there’s room for sixteen luxury condos, plus accessibility features. At least one elevator.”

Her cheeks go a little pink. Bet you weren’t expecting that. I don’t fool around with my business. I make it a point to know everything I can about every one of my properties. I’m sure all the other real estate moguls she knows take a different approach.

“And a man like you, with a company like yours, probably has buyers lined up for each and every one of those already.”

“I’m holding a couple in reserve.”

“That’s so kind.”

I lean toward her, folding my arms on the surface of the desk. “This isn’t about luxury condos, though, is it, Ms. Gabriel? This is about your mother. I’m not sure what that would have to do with the Hamilton Heights property, however. It’s unoccupied.”

“It’s not unoccupied.” Her eyes narrow, her mouth pressed into a thin line, and her expression—hard and fierce and unrelenting—makes my cock twitch in my pants. “It will be unoccupied once you’re finished forcing out all the current tenants.”

An alarm is ringing in the back of my mind. A man’s voice on the other end of the line: “Every single one of them, unoccupied. Sitting there, empty space.” He’d laughed, a deep rumble. “It’s best for everyone if you take it off my hands. I’m done with it. I’m done.” 

Clearly, that’s not the case. 

Ms. Gabriel goes on. “The building was one of the last in the neighborhood with rent-controlled spaces, so you can imagine how it felt to receive notice today that none other than Pace, Inc. has decided not to let any of the tenants renew their leases. Such a nice way to end a tenant relationship that’s lasted a decade.” Her expression is somewhere between a smirk and a scowl.

I’m torn neatly in two. The half of me that’s interested in peeling those clothes away from her body until there’s nothing between her flawless skin and the cool air of my office, watching her nipples pebble away from the swell of her breasts, putting my hands all over her, is insisting that I back down. I could smooth this over. I could tell her that this is all a misunderstanding—that in fact, the rarest occasion is happening right now. I was misled, and there was no follow-up. Someone at Pace, Inc. is going to be fired over this.

The other half of me is rising to the bait of her sneer. Nobody talks to me that way—not anymore. I’m the one who sits in the driver’s seat, and Ms. Gabriel is a guest in my office. She’s not a client, even if she’s sitting in the client’s seat. 

I’m not backing down.

I fold my hands on the desk and meet her gaze without flinching. “I’m sorry to hear that your mother was upset.” I keep my voice even. “It’s…unfortunate when residents need to relocate, but the neighborhood will benefit in the long term.” I give her a big, wide smile. “Who knows? Your mother may even want to purchase one of the condos I’m holding in reserve. I’d be happy to hold one for her, if she’d like to come in and take a look at the floor plans.”

Her hands tighten on the arms of the chair, and the blush on her face deepens. She takes a long breath in through her nose, then inhales slowly out of her perfect lips. I’d like to see those lips, in that exact shade of red lipstick, wrapped around something more substantial than air. 

I get ready for Ms. Gabriel to stand up and head for the door. I’ve made it abundantly clear that strolling into my office like this isn’t going to get her anywhere.

What happens next, I don’t see coming.

A slow smile spreads across her face, and then she chuckles, a sound low in her chest. “You know something, Mr. Pace?” Her breasts rise and fall underneath the silk shell she’s wearing beneath her blazer. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I think…” Her voice trails off, and her green eyes linger on my face. “I think that if we try—if we really try—we could work this out.”