Volatile Obsessions by Dee Garcia (6)

“Your brand is exactly what I’m looking for, Miss Mercier. From what I’ve seen, I believe Black Widow can make it to the top with all the big-name competitors. You just need more exposure.”

“And how would you provide that exposure?” I asked the woman, mostly because I had no choice.

She’d been trying to get a hold of me for months despite my PA having turned her away more times than I can count. Isabella was a semi well-known field marketing rep in the make-up industry and she was adamant on securing my line under her belt.

“We need to get you in all the major retailers like Sephora and ULTA, even department stores like Macy’s would be great. The more women can see your products in the flesh and test them out, the more likely they’ll be to abandon an old brand and try yours,” she explained confidently, which in turn piqued my interest.

Clearly, Isabella was not a woman easily deterred. Problem with that was, I wasn’t either. Sure, I could see how using her particular set of skills might play to my advantage in the long run, but I preferred to do shit my way, and there was just something about her that didn’t sit well with me.

What the hell did she know about my brand anyway?

Black Widow Cosmetics was still fairly new. Did well for an online-only based company, but I knew she could be far bigger. When I started her up just over a year ago, I made sure my products had it all; high-quality ingredients that weren’t tested on animals, fierce pigmentation and long-lasting wear, aesthetically pleasing and uniquely designed durable packaging. Prices were damn reasonable, too, when in reality they should’ve been a bit higher.

I was so sure of my brand, in fact, I dared to say I could compete against Two-Faced or Anastasia Beverly Hills with my eyes closed.

Reclining into my seat, I swiveled my chair around to the long rectangular windows at my back and gazed out at the prime view of the beach, wishing I had a margarita in my hand.

“How are you so sure you can get me into said retailers, though, Miss Cruz?”

“My connections are solid and reliable, Miss Mercier. Sephora and ULTA will be chomping at the bit to showcase your products once we present them with your bestsellers. It’s really quite simple.”

If it were so simple, I’d have done it myself…

“That all sounds fine and dandy, Isabella—really, it does, but unfortunately, I need proof. Mock-up a proper marketing scheme and get in contact with, at the very least, one of these companies. Once you’ve heard from them, and they give you the green light, then you and I can discuss a contract. Until then, I’m afraid I can’t take a chance.”

“I understand,” she conceded, her tone only half-defeated. “I’ll get a mock-up through to you this week for approval and then—”

“Absolutely not,” I interjected, turning back to my desk. “You want this position as my head of marketing, correct?”

“Yes…”

“Then a mock-up shouldn’t need my approval. It’s your job to know my brand forwards and back, inside and out. Get it done, contact one of your supposed reliable sources, and we’ll chat when agree. Clear?”

“Yes, Miss Mercier. Speak soo—”

Click.

Tossing the receiver onto the console without a single fuck to give, I buzzed my PA, Ellie, no less than five seconds later.

“What’s up, L?” she responded immediately.

“I’m going to bloody kill you,” I huffed, typing Isabella’s website into my search bar with the tips of my nails.

“Why? What the hell did I do?” she laughed.

“You know damn well what you did. Why in the actual fuck would you put her through?”

“Because you were here? Every other time she’s called, you’ve not been in the office.”

“Still! I told you to turn her away until she gave up! Yes, her skill set could be useful and beneficial, but there’s something about her I don’t like…” I trailed off, scrolling through her dainty page in revolt.

Pastels? Really?

Literally all pastels and child-like flowers.

Pathetic.

“I’m sorry, L, seriously. I just thought—”

“I know what you thought, that you were like, helping and shit,” I quipped, mimicking her typical Miami girl lingo. “And maybe you did, but we won’t know until next week, possibly longer.”

“You can thank me then,” Ellie laughed again. “I know she seems like a prissy little bitch, but she’s got some serious talent.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that if she ever calls back.”

“I’m sure she wi… About time, asshole,” she growled, her voice further away from the receiver. “Vic’s here.” The annoyed announcement came just as the door to my office flew open.

Cutting my gaze in his direction—completely unamused, I might add—I noted he was donning that disgusting vomit green tie again.

The man had shit style sometimes.

Lack of courtesy and common sense, too, apparently.

I rolled my eyes and inched back into my seat as he approached. “So nice of you to make it in this afternoon, Mr. Kane. Is there anything I get for you?”

“Cut the Mr. Kane shit, L. I got stuck in traffic,” he retorted, dropping into one of the chairs that sat before my desk.

“For the whole morning? I mean, I know these American twats can’t drive, but you’re telling me you’ve been stuck in traffic since 8 this morning? It’s almost 1!”

Did he think I was stupid?

“No, not since this morning, Lux. I had a few errands to run before coming in and 95 had a four-car pile up blocking almost every lane.”

Sure it did.

“Still doesn’t explain or excuse your tardiness, Vic. You took the morning at your leisure without any notice at all, as you’ve been doing for several weeks now. Obviously, this job isn’t very important to you anymore, so I’m only going to ask this once.” I leaned forward, glaring him a down, a bitchy brow arching high. “Should I be setting up interviews with people who will be more reliable, respectful, and appreciative of their position? ‘Cause I can do that if it works better for you. I don’t need you if you don’t want to be here.”

Vic sighed frustratedly and scrubbed a hand down his face as he scooted to the edge of his seat.

I’d struck a nerve.

Good.

Served his ungrateful ass right.

“Lux, relax, please. It’s not like that. You know I love working here,” he all but gritted out, his green-eyed stare never wavering.

And yet, I could somehow see what I’d been sensing for weeks now. There was a difference in the way he looked at me. Not by a lot, but I knew Vic.

His ticks.

His tells.

I knew it all. At one point, he was with me more hours in the day than I was in my own solitary company. He did everything for me. Everything. From bringing me coffee to taking out the trash who abhorred my business. Hell, I’d even set aside the slimy part of him that put me off sometimes and had let the man fuck me a few times.

Yes, that means he finally agreed to my terms, by the way.

Aside from who called the shots, I had two rules; no kissing and no staying the night. The last one was more so for myself because I always went to him. Sure, Vic had been to my flat a few times, like all other friends, but I’d never allowed him anywhere near my room, much less my bed.

No man had.

I didn’t allow dogs in my private space.

Anyway, things had been off between us as of late. Aside from the office hours he actually worked, we hadn’t had much interaction. He was always busy, busy being a term I’d use loosely. Not that I cared—I could have any man I desired, but his newfound distance and sudden absence shed light on all the gray areas I’d ignored. I was starting to understand why they say not to mix business with pleasure.

Lines were blurring, and at this rate, they were going to get messy soon, too, if I didn’t get a grip on it.

“Then act like it,” I finally countered, relaxing my stance.

“I do act like it, L.” He fell back in his seat with another sigh. “Shit’s just…”

“Shit’s just what? Spit it out.”

“It’s Ramos. He’s making moves,” he blurted out.

Really now?

“I see.” I mirrored his posture, melting into my throne. “What kind of moves?”

“He’s got eyes on the runners and Roscoe caught a few across the street scoping the lot.”

My blood boiled. Apparently, Hector hadn’t learned his lesson the last time he tried to move in on my territory. Unfortunately for him, there would be no lesson to learn this time.

“Kill him,” I gritted out, my eyes tearing to the computer screen as a new email from Isabella pinged my inbox. “I don’t care how you do it, just kill him. Chop him up into little pieces and feed him to the sharks if you have to. No one threatens me twice and gets away with it.”

“That Ramos bloke must be one vapid motherfucker,” Suki laughed as I pulled the cork free from the wine bottle and refilled our glasses.

“Clearly. The last time he tried that shit, I carved a jagged line from his eyebrow to his jawline. You think he’d learn.”

Suki hummed and swirled the merlot a few rounds, taking an ample sip that practically drained her glass. Again.

Figures it’d be a two-bottle kinda night.

“Rams, refill?” I asked Ramsey, who was curled on my couch with her nose glued to a book.

As per usual.

Without a word or a glance spared my way, she reached over her feet to grab the emptied glass on the coffee table and held it up for me to see.

I rolled my eyes.

Did I look like a fucking waitress?

“Rams…refill?” I queried again, with clear, irate emphasis coloring my words.

Big hazel eyes snapped up to where I stood behind the island. Jerking her shoulders up to her ears, she jiggled the glass in response and went right back to the words holding her hostage. As if I wasn’t in enough of a ruffled stated already, her detached presence only served to piss me off all the more.

“Are you mute tonight?” I snapped.

“No.” She shot me a testy glare. “I’m reading.”

“Then why bother showing up?” Suki chimed in, swiveling her stool to face Ramsey directly. The wavy, bleach-blonde tresses of her hair swayed with the motion. “We’re not here to watch you swoon over Mr. Darcy for the millionth time.”

I smirked. Forever my main bitch, always down to back me up. They both were, truthfully, but Suki was my ride or die. Deranged as I was, if not more so, where as Ramsey was our voice of reason. Always the rational one; quiet. Tamed.

Ramsey puckered her crimson lips and slammed her book shut, tossing it on the cushion beside her. “Don’t start with me, Suk.”

“Or what, Raggedy Ann?” Suki fired back, a devious grin darkening her expression.

Ramsey rolled her eyes in an unamused fashion and flipped her the bird as she trudged toward us, plopping down on the vacant stool to Suki’s left. “Hit me,” she grumbled, sliding her glass across the dark glittering granite.

“Anywaaay, you were saying,” Suki drawled, circling her arms around Ramsey in a deadlock before licking her face.

I almost spilled what little remained of the wine, choking back a proper full-bellied laugh as Ramsey squealed in disgust and shoved Suki off, hastily wiping her cheek clean.

“You’re disgusting,” she hissed, swiping the remnants along Suki’s inked arm.

Not that Suki cared, much to her dismay. She merely shrugged and reached across the counter for the bottle, swatting my protective hand out of the way.

“Once again, as you were saying, L. Hector—the imbecile—Ramos…”

“More like Hector—soon-to-be shark bait—Ramos,” I snickered.

Suki and Ramsey both stared at me, chocolate brown and hazel eyes wide.

“You’re feeding him to the fish?” Ramsey screeched.

“He deserves worse, trust me. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…”

“Except there is no twice with you,” Suki jeered.

“Damn right. Told Vic to chop him up into pieces if he had to,” I added.

“Speaking of Vic,” she began, waggling her eyebrows. “How’s that going?”

“Same place as it was before—no where. More so now.”

“Why? He’s hot as fuck.”

“He’s also stupid as fuck. Not to mention he’s acting rather shady these days.”

“Shady?” That was Ramsey whose curiosity was obviously roused.

“Very. Shows up late to work, does the bare minimum, takes all these mysterious phone calls. The list of shit I’ve noticed is endless.”

“Have you guys, you know,” she pressed.

“Not for a while, no. He doesn’t even call me after-hours anymore.” I tipped my head back, draining the contents of my glass. “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck. He wasn’t the greatest lay anyway. But like I said, shady.”

“That bastard better not be fucking with you or I’ll castrate him with my bare hands,” Suki snarled, looking like she was ready to hunt him down, and Ramsey nodded in accordance right along with her.

“Agreed. I may be quiet most of the time but—”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” I joked, the sudden buzz of my phone dragging my attention away from the girls.

Plucking it off the counter, I glazed over the message displayed on my screen.

Stryker: We still on for next week?

A smile drifted across my face for two reasons.

“Ohhh, Sukiii,” I sang, shoving my phone in her face. “It’s your lover boy.”

Suki’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, little stars forming in her eyes at the mere sight of his name. “Now he is hot. Fine as hell to be exact,” she stated, fanning herself with a quick hand. “One day he’ll be mine.”

Ramsey and I laughed at her not-so-secret fantasy as I typed out my response.

Me: Without a doubt! See you then!