Mr. Big Shot: An Enemies To Lovers Romance (Kinda Cocky Book 1), стр. 11
“Gotcha,” I murmured.
I had this bitchy realtor right where I wanted him. And if I had to smoke him out, then so be it. But, I wanted to try one more thing. I wanted to go over his head and talk to his client personally. After my assistant tracked down who this man’s client was, I sent her a very kind and cordial email. I knew she wouldn't hesitate to respond. That was the thing about realty I didn’t like. Many realtors I’d come into contact with over the years always thought they could take down the big, bad wolf. As if I were some demon character in a video game they had to beat. And sometimes, those realtors used tactics their clients wouldn't approve of just to try and get the upper hand.
Well, that particular client was about to know exactly what her realtor was up to.
Mrs. Daily,
On behalf of Stonewater Realty, I want to congratulate you. Becoming so successful in a business that one needs a bigger space is always a special occasion. It’s one I grew very fond of as a businessman myself, and I wish you all of the success in the world. I’m contacting you this evening because--.
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and my fingers paused. The tap was soft. Almost hesitant. And I wondered if I had actually felt it.
You’re imagining things, idiot.
Then, the tap happened again. Only this time, it had a bit more strength behind it.
“Um, excuse me? Zane? Is that your name?”
Her voice sounded like a lark. A muffled lark, first thing in the morning. Her voice reminded me of the sound of a lark slowly pulling me from sleep with blackout curtains over my windows. Soothing and relaxing, yet wishing to lull me back to sleep. With soft tones, a strong foundation, and a light that shone so brightly against my back, I felt it heat my spine.
But, I looked down at my phone.
The unfinished email taunted me. The blinking of the cursor caught my eye, and I felt compelled to finish it out. I had to send this email off. I had worked day and night on this purchase for damn near two weeks, and I was almost there. All I had to do was finish this email, send it off, and all would be well.
“Or, do you go by another name?” the woman yelled, competing with the DJ.
I set my phone down. “No, I do not.”
I turned around and saw the beautiful woman behind me. Dressed in a cropped top and a pencil skirt, the cream-colored ensemble brought out her eyes. The woman was gorgeous. Dark brown hair with honeyed highlights that reminded me of an ooey, gooey cinnamon roll. She had bright green eyes that were unimpeded with makeup. A refreshing change from the painted-on faces in the crowd beneath us. She had a smile on her lips that showcased the dimples her cheeks held. And those soft, little indentations called to the tip of my lips.
“Hi,” she said.
The thumping bass grew, causing the woman to move closer to me.
“It’s a bit loud in here, isn’t it?” she yelled over the music.
I nodded. “Usually is.”
She giggled, but the music swallowed the sound whole. And I’d never been so angry at a stereo system in my entire life.
“Are you having fun?” she asked.
I felt the table vibrating beneath my elbow. Signaling that my phone was still going off. That work was still taunting me. That the evil realtor I wanted to toss into a volcano was still bugging me at all hours of the night. Trying to prove to me that he was right in all of this.
“I can’t honestly say this is my scene, no.”
She leaned against the table. “Well, what is your scene, then?”
I felt the table vibrate again, and my skin began to crawl. It was almost compulsive, the need to check my phone. What if it was a new client? Was if it was someone inquiring about services? What if it’s that maniacal realtor finally conceding his defeat?
You’re turning into your father.
“Um, what was the question again?” I asked.
She blinked. “What is your scene? What are you usually doing on a--?”
This time, my phone started vibrating, and it didn’t stop. I held up my finger and picked it up, only to see that asshole calling me. Damn it, I had a flood of text messages already waiting for me, and I’d only set my phone down for a few minutes! I puffed air through my nose as I ignored his phone call. I saved the draft of the email and went to my text messages, reading through them as my eyes grew wide.
Mr. Walsh: I’ve spoken to my client, and she is no longer willing to cut a deal with you. I’d say thank you for your services, but you have provided nothing but heartache for her and for myself.
Mr. Walsh: I’m also well aware of your assistant digging into records she has no business digging into. Should you contact my client and try to go over my head, I’ll find something in our contact to use in court. Mark my words.
Mr. Walsh: Mr. Hearthstone? Are my messages going through?”
Mr. Walsh: Fine. I’ll simply call you. I’m sure you're still at the office, anyway.
I drew in a deep breath and flipped back to the email. Everything fell to the wayside as I finished typing it out and sent it to Mrs. Daily. There wasn’t anything stopping me from contacting her. I knew our contracts inside and out. That shoddy excuse for a realtor didn’t know who the hell he was tussling with, and if he wanted to take us to court? I had him on multiple counts of harassment, threats of libel, and borderline blackmail.
“Zane?”
Her voice caught my ear. “Yes. I’m sorry. What was that?”
I put my phone down and watched as the beautiful woman’s