“You don’t have to. I know the perfect one.” She stared at Griffin.
Warning bells went off in his head. “Oh, no you don’t.”
She smiled smugly. “But, Griff—may I call you that? Your house would be the perfect way to introduce you to everyone. Plus, since I’ll be the one designing it, what better way to say a King daughter accepts the new head of King’s, at the moment an unknown to our very loyal customers and longtime employees?”
“I like it,” Charlie said. “But, Prissy, it’s a huge undertaking.”
“Especially for me,” Priscilla said what had been left unspoken by her stepsister.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to hire a professional interior designer.”
“That’s the point. If someone like me, an amateur, can take King’s products and make a spectacular home with them, then any one of our customers can, too. They don’t need to spend a fortune on a designer. They have us to guide them, in-store and website consultants, and, everything we have is so simple, they can do it, too.”
Griffin’s middle tightened. Her case was sound. Too good, in fact. As long as she delivered. He glared at her. His plan to destroy King’s just got harder. Three months may have been too ambitious. He did love a challenge, though.
But, having her in his house, obviously on a daily basis, would try his nerves and make his life a living hell. He wanted her. He craved her. She’d already gotten too close. Griff couldn’t imagine what the next few weeks would cost him.
“Genius.” Charlie turned to him. “Are you game?”
How could he turn it down? What reason could he give?
“I never realized fortune cookies came true. ‘Your life will be turned upside down,’” he quoted.
“It sounds like a yes to me. Don’t you agree, Marcus?” Charlie asked. “We can start with one room and see how things turn out.” Her cautionary tone spoke of her lingering doubts that Priscilla could tackle such a huge job.
“Damn, Pixie!” Griff mouthed to Priscilla. Her cheeky grin sent alarm bells going off in his mind and body. Would he live to regret this?
Chapter 7
Finding Griff by himself gazing out the living room window, Priscilla lifted her champagne glass and clinked it with his. “Congratulations, Mr. James.”
He scowled, keeping his profile to her. “Do you always manipulate the situation to your advantage?”
Her breath caught in the back of her throat. He turned to her now. She took a sip of the sparkling apple cider. When he hit, he hit below the belt. Swallowing hard, she avoided his penetrating gaze. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“That’s an easy dodge if I’ve ever heard one,” he muttered. “Did you even take into consideration I may not want or need this upheaval in my home?”
“I want a chance—”
“To prove yourself. To earn the King name,” he said, less harshly. “You’re using me to get there.”
Put like that, it sounded crass and ugly. Something her mother would do. Her middle sank. “You’re right,” she said softly. “We can redo an area of the store, instead. I’ll come up with an alternative.”
He sighed heavily. “Too bad it’s such a brilliant idea; otherwise there may have been another option. There’s not.”
Brilliant? A compliment coming from him meant a great deal. “We can set some rules,” she offered as a consolation prize.
“You better believe there will be rules. My rules.”
She took the glass he handed her and watched his stiff back as he strode off toward her stepsister. He nodded to some of the others as they congratulated him on his new position, but, for the most part, he avoided speaking with the rest of the family. Charlie ushered him out of the room and apparently to the study to review the contract.
Priscilla’s hopes plummeted. She needed his cooperation to succeed, not this wide division between them. Secretly, her heart ached for the gruff, lonely man who kept people at a safe distance.
She shouldn’t care; he apparently liked his solitary existence. That thought tugged at her even more. No one stays. His words resounded through her mind.
“McGruff, scared? Afraid of getting hurt…again…” She shook her head. “Wow, who would have ever thought?” To herself she said, your secret is safe with me.
She vowed she’d never hurt him, never cause him to question her intentions again. A trickle of alarm sliced through her. But that meant she’d have to earn his trust and respect.
Breezing through these last few months, headstrong and gung ho, diving into each new experience of her suddenly found independence, Priscilla had ignored any warnings and consequences. Her sisters had covered for her, given her money when she’d spent all hers or Francie had taken on her shifts at King’s when she had better things to do than work in the men’s department. And Rico had urged her on to have fun at his parties, out in clubs, and just about anything else he found intriguing and needed a partner in crime to help execute his plans.