Brooke

 

It’s been a few weeks since I thought I’d done my last job for Pete. Unfortunately, tonight I have to do it one last time. In all the years I’ve worked for Pete, I always thought of him as a good guy. Someone who would have my back if it was needed. After what happened in his office, I don’t trust him for shit. I’m terrified he is going to hold this over my head for the rest of my life. That the only reason I even did it, to get money for my dance studio, will suffer. Nothing I can do though, I have to play by his rules. A puppet and he controls the strings.

As always before I get ready for the night, I pull out the file and study it like I have a final exam. I memorize every detail there is, especially his appearance. Pete gives me specific things he wants me to get information about. Normally, they are very business oriented, things like how do you get into certain websites, or what projects are you working on next, how do they do specific things within the company.

This one is a little different, because it’s as if he wants me to get personal. Apparently, Owen Thompson came out of nowhere, which Pete doesn’t like. He wants to know everything from where Owen came from to what’s the future for his company. I make mental notes of things I can say or do to get the information Pete wants. It’s going to take a lot, but I’m the best for a reason.

Flipping through the pages of information, I come to the picture. The most important piece I need. My eyes land on it and I push the manila folder across the table.

“No fucking way,” I groan out.

The entitled prick from the cab is my next client. You’ve got to be kidding me. I didn’t want to do this job to begin with and now this. Running my fingers through my long brown hair, I blow out a breath.

“Alright, Owen Thompson, looks like you’re going to be my biggest and final challenge.”

 

**

 

After spending the rest of the day cursing Pete for existing, I talked myself down. This is my job. A job I’m fucking amazing at. There’s no feelings, no connection, no fun. Who cares if going in I already hate the guy? I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to get him to talk and getting this entitled prick to talk is going to be powerful.

Sitting at the hotel bar where I was instructed that Owen would be, I do exactly what I’ve always done, sit and wait. I’ll admit I took a little extra time on my appearance tonight. My makeup is a little darker, my hair is in a riot of curls, and I decided to wear something a little sexier than I normally would. A black dress that hugs my curves with a deep V in the front and back. Owen is not the kind of guy that is going to notice a simple dress. No, this man needs to be teased and my tits nearly spilling out will do just that.

I know for sure getting him interested in taking me up to a room isn’t going to be easy. Not with the way we met, so I need to pour it on a little thicker than I normally would. Good thing I’m up to the challenge.

Sipping on my Gin and tonic, I casually glance around the room. Just as I do, I notice him and fuck, he looks good. Well as good as a silver spoon fed man who has probably just been handed the keys to nirvana, could look. But damn, I will give it to him that he’s a sexy entitled prick. He’s not like the men I usually deal with. This man takes care of himself. I don’t need to see him naked to know he’s built under that suit he’s wearing. Not to mention, his damn eyes. He may have been calling me blue eyes in the cab, but his could suck you in and make you forget your name.

Pulling out my compact, I make it like I’m fixing my makeup while I watch him. Sitting down, he loosens his blue tie just a bit as he unbuttons his black jacket. He orders a drink and I start to wonder if he’s here alone. That could work in my favor because I can just make my way over and introduce myself. He’d like that. The waiting for him to come to me bit isn’t going to fly with him. No, he wants a confident woman. He wants a woman who’s going to challenge him.

After a half hour of him sitting alone, I decide to make my move. I need to get this going so it can be over. Picking up my glass, I plaster on a smile, and listen to my heels click on the floor as I walk over.

He casually glances up and when he sees me he smiles, leaning back in his chair. “Well damn blue eyes, I hardly recognize you.”

“Yet you did. I always leave a lasting impression,” I say, giving him a small smile. “May I?”

He gestures to the chair across from him. “By all means.”

“I figured I’d ask before I just sat down,” I say, laughing.

“Oh is that your plan? Come over here and continue to give me a hard time,” he says, waving over the waitress. “I’ll have another bourbon and blue eyes here will have…” He turns his attention to me waiting for a reply.

“Gin and tonic.”

Resting his arms on the table, his captivating eyes collide with mine. “You want to tell me what this is about?”

Damn, he’s going to be more of a challenge than I thought. “What do you mean?”

“Blue eyes,” he starts.

“Brooke,” I interrupt. “My name isn’t blue eyes, it’s Brooke.”

Extending my hand, I wait for him to grab it. He however just looks at it for a second before searching my face.

“The polite thing to do is shake my hand and introduce yourself,” I say, trying to keep my anger hidden. I want to say here’s another example of you being an entitled prick, but that wouldn’t help me. So I keep my hand extended instead.

Finally, extending his hand, he grabs mine. It’s not a pussy grip like all the other guys, no this is the way a man’s hand should feel. It’s strong and controlled. “Owen,” he says, shaking his head with a small grin.

“So blue..sorry, Brooke, we’re friends now right? So why don’t you tell me what’s going on,” he says, taking a sip of his bourbon.

“You don’t have many friends do you, Owen?”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” he asks, leaning back slightly in his chair.

“You steal my cab and now tell me your name, so you think that makes us friends? Usually, it takes a bit of conversation to fall into that category,” I say, lifting an eyebrow.

He lets out a small laugh and shakes his head. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“You’re a real entitled prick, you know that?”

We both laugh and for one second I forget he’s my client.

“Brooke, I’m anything but an entitled prick, but you can believe what you want, blue eyes.”

At this point with a client they are usually trying to impress me with talk about the money they make, the houses they own, the vacations they’ve been on. I never need to ask anything, they give it willingly. Owen however, seems to be a closed book. I’m going to have to open it myself.

“Fine, so why don’t you tell me about yourself,” I say, hoping for anything at this point.

“How about you tell me what you’re up to,” he comes back with.

“Obviously you have trust issues, which I get. I was supposed to be on a date, I got stood up and decided to have a drink. I saw you come in and thought I’d come over. Nothing more to it than that,” I lie.

He runs his hand over his beard and nods. “Well whoever stood you up is an asshole.”

“Believe me, it’s nothing I’m going to lose sleep over. So what about you, why are you here?”

“I had a meeting and wanted a drink before I headed home.”

Bingo. “What is it you do, Owen?”

“I run a business, what about you?”

Damn, he’s really not giving me an inch here. “I own a dance studio.”

This grabs his attention. “You’re kidding?”

“Why would I be kidding?”

“I’m impressed, that’s all blue eyes. So, you like to dance?” he asks.

The compliment feels good. It’s not often I get to talk about my real life, and it’s actually nice. “Dance is my life. Has been since I was a kid. There’s a feeling of complete euphoria when you’re up on stage. It’s the only time I ever feel complete happiness,” I admit.

“Having passion about what you’re doing makes it everything. I get that. Watching your face while you talk about it, I can see the complete happiness. You’re beautiful when you’re not busting my balls,” he says with a small grin.

I blush, not a blush that is driven by embarrassing memories, an actual blush from what he’s said. “You’re not so hard on the eyes either, Ace, especially when you are giving me a half hearted compliment.”

He laughs, a full blown laugh and searches my eyes. “Ace?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna explain it?”

“Nope,” I say and laugh. “In time my new friend, in time.”