Submission Specialist(Still a Bad Boy #2)(64)

With dogged determination, I wrote down “Art -> OK” in my little notepad, and when I looked up again, I swore I saw his eyes roaming over my body. I could almost feel them like fingers lightly tracing along my skin, and a shiver of misplaced excitement travelled down my spine.

Men didn’t look at me like that, not really. Certainly not men like Jace Barlow, who could have a harem at his disposal at the snap of his fingers. According to some rumors, he’d gone backstage at a fashion show in Milan and afterwards some of the models were walking noticeably bowlegged on the catwalk.

Still, it was an illusion I rarely had a chance to entertain, so I let myself bask in it for a few seconds. How often had I dreamed that some nice guy would look at me, like what he saw, and take me off the shelf?

I was about to ask him about his tattoos when his cell started ringing. He held up his finger to silence me and brought his phone to his ear.

“Go ahead,” he said and paused to listen. “Yes… What? Where? OK, keep him… uh.” He glanced at me. “Occupied until I can get there… I’ll get there whenever the fuck I’m ready, don’t forget who you’re talking to… Yeah, yeah... Bye.”

“So, Mr. Barlow, I was going to ask you about…”

“Sorry, Kendall, something’s come up, we’re going to have to cut this short.”

My heart sank. I’d known from the moment I walked in the room that the interview would be a disaster, what with my zero preparation and all, but I was enjoying my little fantasy.

“Oh. Alright,” I said, packing my pen and pad away.

Barlow stood and I did the same. Even from across the desk it was impossible to not note the incredible presence he had. It was more than just how much bigger than me he was, it was like an aura that radiated off of him.

He leaned over and extended his hand in my direction, and I approached his desk to do the same. It was so surreal, I was about to shake hands with a man who could probably buy my hometown and turn it into a theme park.

My heart fluttered when our hands touched, partly from sheer awe and the rest coming from the same silly parts of my mind the little fantasy had. What if he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it? I would faint!

“Thank you for coming to see me today. I’ll want a copy of that article when you publish it.”

You’re so hot!

“You’re so… I mean, you’re welcome. Yes, of course. Uh… goodbye then.”

I started to turn away, but his grip on my hand tightened and he pulled me back. Slowly, I turned back to him, and my eyes travelled from where our hands were still together, up to his eyes, where he was fixing me with a look that made me want to start taking off my clothes. Was my daydream coming true?

“Tell you what. We should extend this interview over dinner. Tonight, at Luc Monette’s. Be there at seven.”

My jaw dropped in a way I thought only happened in the movies. Jace Barlow, tall, muscular, multi-millionaire, was asking me, Kendall Brookes, a small-town nobody, out to dinner. That shiver went down my spine again and settled somewhere around my stomach, a buzzing little ball of excitement, but I did my best to keep a grasp on reality.

“Dinner. Just for the interview?” I asked.

Jace smiled. “Of course.”





Chapter 4

Jace

“There was a robbery in China Town, a liquor store. Owner’s all up to date on their payments, so they gave us a call asking what good our protection was,” said Lorenzo.

“We know who did it yet?” I asked.

Sitting back in my seat, I watched the world go by through the tinted window of the car as my driver drove the two of us back from an afternoon meeting to my office tower. This was some low-level crap that I was trying to delegate more and more these days, so I wasn’t prepared to give it my full attention.

Of course, like in any job, there were times when shit pissed me off. Unlike most other jobs for most other people, things could piss me off enough that I let myself get a little bit… hands-on with enforcing my rules.

That’s the thing in this world. You go for too long without fucking somebody up and some assholes start to get all uppity. They start losing respect, and that’s a death knell for somebody like me.

It was as true at the top as it ever had been when the Picollis used to send me to be the reminder about their rules. You knew you fucked up if you had me knocking on your door.

I built up a reputation, almost a legend. I had to laugh when I heard some of the stories come full-circle and get whispered back to me in hushed tones. Did you know the Picollis have got a guy who cuts off peoples’ heads and uses their skulls to drink their blood?