I raise my voice, looking around. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, Mr. Finn Turner. The very man who wants to shut down the MTA and bring New York as you know it to a grinding halt.”
Dramatic? Maybe. But it’s effective because now everyone is staring at us, anger in many of the eyes I see.
Finn grabs me by the shoulders, leaning down until I can feel his breath mingling with mine. “Don’t do this, Avery.”
Again that flutter in my stomach. A race of chills down my spine. And not from fear. From the pure power of this man’s overwhelming presence, his voice and touch inciting a battle of conflicting feelings within me.
I gasp. How is he making me feel this way? I hate him. Like, really, truly hate him. He wants to singlehandedly destroy the infrastructure that makes my city thrive. Yet I can’t deny it. The pull I feel toward him is powerful and unexpected.
As if he could totally turn my world upside down in the very best way.
It infuriates me. “Oh, I’m going to do it. I’ll stop you, Mr. Turner if it’s the last thing I do.”
Like I said, dramatic. I may have a flair for it.
He clenches his jaw, the muscle jumping as he continues to hold my arms. The train screeches to a stop, and he releases me abruptly, leaving me feeling strangely lost when he whirls and strides toward the door, bumping into a couple standing near it and sloshing the woman’s coffee all over her companion.
A frustrated grunt rips from my throat as he just waltzes off the train like he doesn’t have a care in the world. No consideration for the destruction he leaves in his wake.
“Asshole,” I mutter, folding my arms over my chest, not liking the way it tightens one little bit.
Finn
I drag my fingers through my hair, making it stand on end, and push back from my desk to pace in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the entire back wall of my office. The view is amazing, but I don’t see any of it as I stop and press my palms against the cool glass and stare out.
All I see is her.
Those flashing brown eyes. The long blonde waves streaked with purple. They swim in my vision until I’m grinding my teeth so hard it hurts. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head for two days. Two fucking days.
All that fiery fervor and fury. A temper that flares so high. I’m willing to bet she’s just as passionate with every feeling that goes through her.
Avery.
I spin around with a growl. I’d give anything to extinguish her from my mind. The way she felt as I gripped her close. The way she smelled as I leaned in, breathing her own air.
And that’s a serious problem. Because out of every person in the greater tri-state area, she is the last one I need to be thinking about. Unless it’s to shut her down. To get her to stop this grassroots campaign that’s taken on a life of its own.
That’s exactly what I have to do.
I pick up my phone and push the button for my assistant. “Betty,” I bite out when she answers, “find out how I can reach Avery Samuels.”
“Avery Samuels?” she repeats, her shock evident.
“That’s what I said.”
“Mr. Turner, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“Betty, I don’t pay you for your opinions. I pay you to do what I tell you. And right now I’m telling you to get me in contact with Avery.”
“Yes, Mr. Turner,” she says quickly.
I slam the phone down, immediately regretting the harsh way I spoke. I guess it’s true what they say. Finn Turner is an asshole.
I scowl. Funny thing is, I’m not, even though my actions point to the complete opposite. I just know what I want, and I’m determined to have it.
And right now I want Avery Samuels in my office.
I try to convince myself its because I need to talk her down from this campaign, convince her to let me do what I need to, not because I just want to see her again, to watch those chocolate eyes flare with that intensity that matches my own.