“Austin Randall.”

“Tess Armstrong.”

The way we just said each other name’s makes it official: it’s going to be a bitter fight. I can already feel the electricity in the air, the mood in the room as tense as a nocked arrow.

I take one hard look at him, drinking in his confident posture and the way his tailored suit seems to hug his chiseled muscles. He has a certain rugged charm about him, and his broad shoulders and strong arms just add to it. In his eyes I see a twinkle of cunning and intelligence, two qualities that probably just make him into a bigger asshole than I think he is.

A devilish handsome asshole, but an asshole nonetheless.

“I see that you’re already familiar with each other,” Taylor chuckles, clapping Austin on the back. “The best furniture companies in the state, battling it out for the deal of the year. This should be interesting, don’t you think?”

“Depends. If you think a massacre is interesting, then I agree.” We haven’t even shaken hands and Austin’s already taking a shot at me.

Cocky bastard.

Smirking, he allows his gaze to drift from Taylor to me. Just as I did with him, he seems to be taking me in, his eyes shamelessly tracing the contour of my curves. Right away, I can tell that he’s used to having women groveling at his feet.

Well, that’s not going to be me.

“Don’t you worry,” I reply, “I’ll do my best not to humiliate anyone. You’ll still have a reputation to defend when I’m done with you.” Never taking my eyes off him, I return his smirk. “Maybe.”

“Well, this is definitely going to be interesting,” Ashley chirps merrily as she joins us. She’s standing so close to Taylor that their hands are almost brushing together. “Just try not to tear the building down while you’re at it, alright?”

“Yeah, or Draper Pierce will eat you for lunch,” Taylor throws almost casually, even though I know he’s dead serious. His bank isn’t known for fucking around, especially when we’re talking about billion-dollar deals.

For a guy heading one of the scariest financial organizations in the world, he sure seems laidback about things, though. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. One word out of his mouth and he can probably tank the economy of any country he chooses, so why should he be worried about anything in the world? Hell, the world should worry about him.

“Speaking of lunch, I’m ravenous, ” Ashley cuts in. “Haven’t had dinner yet. What do you say we go and grab a bite?” The way she just pronounced that slippery we leaves no room for a doubt. She’s talking about Taylor and her. My God, she’s head over heels with this guy.

“Sounds like a plan,” Taylor nods, shaking Austin’s hand and mine. “I’ll see you guys soon enough. In a day or two, you should get the guidelines for the first challenge.”

“Enjoy...dinner,” Austin tells Taylor, giving me a knowing look as he does it. Turning around, he returns his attention to me.

“These two are going to have more than just dinner,” I’m saying as I watch Taylor and Ashley walk out of the conference room, laughing and looking into each other’s eyes like two lovebirds. What the hell happened to Ashley? She loved to bust guy's balls almost as much as I do, and now look at her being all cozy with Mr. Banking Billionaire.

“Yeah, they’re definitely planning for a long dessert to be included in the menu,” Austin agrees, and I find myself laughing. I actually have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from overdoing it. I don't want to act too friendly toward this guy.

He’s the enemy, after all.

“You ready for this, Tess?” he asks me.

I keep my game face on.

“I could ask you the same question,” I say back to him.

“Oh, I was born ready for this, baby,” he says.

I roll my eyes.

I’ve had enough of this.

So this condescending asshole—convinced he’s God’s gift to women—thinks that just because I have a pussy that I can’t play the game at his level? We’ll see whose laughing when I sign the fucking contract for this place.

Honestly, babe, I’m not some angry bitter woman.

I’ve just had to fight and struggle for everything, you know?

You gotta know what it’s like being a woman in America. If you’re not at home with the kids then you’re somehow not the perfect mom and thereby not the perfect woman. If you do end up working, there’s a chance that guys will walk all over you. But if you act forceful and assert yourself, people will call you a bitch. But when a guy acts forceful, he’s a player and a rock star.

Well, I’m done with that.

I’m going to destroy everyone here in this competition.

We start walking out of the conference room together, but I stop as something catches my attention.

“What the hell is he doing?” I ask, watching as Willis goes down on all fours on the corner of the room, his head just a few inches away from the wall. Judging from the incessant shutter sound coming from his phone ever since the meeting ended, the guy hasn’t stopped snapping pictures.

“Probably trying to figure out the best way to sell himself as a human chair,” Austin replies, turning around to glance at Willis and cocking one eyebrow at the poor guy. “Seriously, I don’t even know why they bother. This isn’t a competition.”

“No, it isn’t,” I agree, making my way toward the elevator with him. Once we’re inside, I immediately regret being alone in a closed space with Austin. There’s something about him that’s...suffocating. And I’m not even sure if I mean that in a bad way.

“It’s just between the two of us, if you really get down to it.” Tapping the number to what I assume is his floor, he leans back against one of the walls and gives me a smile. Not a grin or a smirk, but a smile.

I hate to agree with him, but he has a point there. From everyone in that room, only the two of us have a real shot at nailing that contract.

Not that I’ll ever let him know that.

“Do you really think you stand a chance against me?” he asks again, as if not believing that I’m ready for him. “I’m the Austin, of Oakmont,” he says. I swear, it takes every single nerve in my body to stop me from just yelling at him.

“Do you think you stand a chance against the Tess, of Domina?” I say back, giving him my most dismissive look at his ‘don’t you know who I am’ bullshit.

Neither of us reply. We just stare into each other’s eyes for a long second, electricity crackling in the air around us, and that’s when the elevator stops with its usual ding. The doors slide open, and I wait for Austin to walk out. Instead, he just waves at me, performing a mocking bow.

“Ladies first,” he announces, straightening his back. “I thought we could do with a drink before we go our separate ways.”

“I thought this was your floor.”

“Nope,” he shrugs. “I just wanted to come to the bar and invite you for a drink.”

Jesus Christ. The balls on this one are huge. I’m impressed.

“Very well. But you’re buying.”

“Don’t worry. My company is doing well enough to cover your expenses.”

Bastard.

By the time we finally settle in by the counter, I can’t help but feel slightly intrigued by him. I had heard stories about him, and although I believe them to be true...I just had no idea that he is as interesting as he is arrogant. I thought he was a buffoon, one more asshole to add to the long list of idiots I have to deal with it on a daily basis. But, surprisingly, his charm is actually quite polished.

“Your company has never handled a project this big, right?” Austin asks.

As he nurses his whisky, he waves one hand at the expansive area of the bar. Sitting on the 40th floor, this one is actually reserved for the exclusive use of the residents, unlike the one on the ground floor. The glass panels that replace the outer walls stretch outward, diagonal to the ground floor, and give the impression that the room is about to take flight.

“No. But size isn’t everything,” I reply, my words like a whip. Smiling, I take a sip out of my vodka, the sting of it going down from my tongue to my stomach. “There are other things to be considered.”

“I agree. But you’ve got me curious now. Aside from size, what else is important to you?”

“Many things,” I glance at him sideways, dragging my thumb along the rim of the glass. “I like to have the whole package.”

“You’d be a demanding client, I can already tell.”

“Oh, no doubt about it,” I laugh, raising my glass in his direction. “I’d be the worst.”

“I’ve never failed a client before.” He doesn’t miss a heartbeat as the words rush out from his mouth. “I’m sure I wouldn’t let that happen with you.”

“Confident. That’s a start.” I already feel the alcohol making its way into my bloodstream, my cheeks growing more and more flushed. But I’ve just had one glass, and I’m not even feeling tipsy.

God, talking to him affects me more than it should.

“But I know what you’re getting at, Tess.” His eyes are locked on mine, and I have to force myself to shift my gaze away. “The trick to something as complex as this lies in the details.”

“Right,” I nod, and now it’s my turn to stare straight back at him. If I want to battle it out with someone like Austin, I can’t act coy. “Size is irrelevant, truth be told. I’ve had my fair share of big projects, and I never gave it a second thought. I rather focus on the...experience.”

“The experience?” He raises one eyebrow, his words almost a whisper, and I can see the corners of his lips softly curling upward.

“Think of something like...leather. Is it pleasant to the touch? When you’re lying on it, does it make you want to stay there forever? How does it make you feel when you close your eyes and feel your naked skin against it?”

This time, he doesn’t reply.

My words just float in the air, right between the two of us, and I feel the tension rising with each tick of the clock. What the hell are we even talking about? Sure as hell isn’t furniture.

“You seem to know a few things about leather,” he says after a bit.

“I’ve forgotten more things about leather than you’ll ever know,” I shoot back.

“Leather is fine, but it’s not everything.” Laughing, he motions the bartender to bring us a refill. “At the end of the day, I prefer to focus on the design. And you’re right, the experience is what really matters.” He makes a slight pause, then swivels his stool around to face me directly. “And I like to create an experience of intimacy.”

“Really?” I smirk. “Because from what I’ve seen of your work, it all seems so...raw.”

“Oh, and I’ve seen your work. It’s all about soft, feminine curves, isn’t? It all seems so...fragile. To really melt into a room, you have to add a certain degree of rawness.”

I swallow hard, trying not to choke on the vodka.

“Those are pretty words, I’ll admit,” I clap my hands softly, mocking him. I fold my legs as I turn to face him, just like he did, and I can’t help but notice the way his eyes immediately dart to the hemline of my dress. “But at the end of the day, your work is too aggressive.”

“I’ve never had a complaint,” he says smugly.

“I’m not complaining,” I show him the palms of my hands, smiling. “After all, I never really tried your furniture.”

“Maybe that should change.” Yup, it’s getting hot in here. I might need to rub the sweat of my glass over the back of my neck in a second, thanks to this conversation. “Maybe you’d find that, after all, you enjoy a certain degree of...how did you put it? Aggressiveness?”

Holy shit, I need to get the hell out of here.

Fast.

Standing up, I try to look as relaxed as possible as I grab my purse from the counter. I take a deep breath, trying to stop all that heat from taking over my body, and finally turn around to meet his gaze.

“I’ll see you around, Austin.”

He just tips his glass at me, that maddening smirk back on his lips.

As I walk toward the exit, my heart kicking and punching against my ribcage, I can still feel his eyes on me, following out.

Holy shit, why is my heart racing like this?

Why am I breathing this hard?

And, Christ, why am I so fucking wet?