Page 18 of Ego Maniac

Page List


Font:  

Her cheeks flushed. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

“Then I must be a great ass. Because it takes one to know one.”

Her stoic face cracked, and she laughed. I liked that she was more amused than annoyed. “Do women tend to find your behavior attractive?”

I shrugged. “I’m handsome and rich. Women tend to find that attractive. You’d be surprised how much I can get away with.”

“You are so full of yourself.”

“Maybe, but it’s true.” I came out from where I’d been standing behind my desk, leaving only about a foot or two between us. “Tell the truth. If I was short, bald, broke, and toothless with a hump on my back, you’d have told me off after catching me looking at your ass.”

Her mouth opened, and she looked adorable trying to come up with a retort even though her face had already told me I was right.

“You’re an egomaniac.”

“Maybe. But an attractive one.”

Emerie rolled her eyes and huffed, but I caught a slight smirk on her face right before her hips sashayed out of my office.

What an ass.

The rest of the afternoon, I was tied up on the phone. Even though I’d cleared my calendar of office consults until next week, word had gotten out that I was back, and all of my miserable clients wanted to update me on their spouses’ latest maneuvers. I worked in an ugly-ass business, but I was damn good at my job. Revenge was what they wanted, and every time I dealt a blow to a wife who deserved it, I mentally got even with my own ex, Alexa, all over again. I probably needed a therapist, but vicarious revenge was cheaper and far more satisfying.

I’d just hung up with a client who wanted a restraining order to keep his estranged wife from burning his porn stash when I overheard Emerie talking on the phone from the reception area. The empty office space carried her voice, and I couldn’t help but listen.

“Queens? That’s the closest you can get me to midtown for under fifteen hundred a month? What if I went smaller? No reception area, just a simple office in a building somewhere?” She paused for a minute. “What’s so funny? Yes, I did think you were quoting me space where more than one person can fit.” Another pause. “No, I’m not from New York. But…but…You know what? Forget it. I’ll call another agent.”

“Trouble finding a place?” I said from behind her.

Emerie spun around. The look on her face was pure exasperation.

“What am I doing in New York?”

“You tell me.”

She sighed. “Long story. I—” My office phone rang, and she held up a finger and reached for it before I could even attempt to.

“Drew Jagger’s office…Who, may I ask, is calling?...Mr. London…”

She looked to me, and I held up two hands in the universal no-way sign. She continued smoothly.

“Mr. Jagger is in with a client right now. He also has an appointment immediately following this one that is already waiting. Can I take a detailed message for you?”

She was quiet for a minute as she held the phone away from her ear and raised her brows. I could hear that blowhard Hal London even standing two feet away. When he took a breath, she politely managed to get him off the phone.

“Did you get all that?” she asked me.

“I did. Guy’s an asshole. I would almost rather represent his cheating bitch of a wife. He keeps me on the phone for an hour every chance he gets. It’s his dime, but I still don’t want to talk to him. You managed to get him off pretty quick.”

“Try pouring on the sweet extra thick. That always throws people off.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

Emerie looked at her watch. “It’s almost four o’clock. I can’t believe the furniture company isn’t here yet. I’m sorry, I’ve been here all day.”

“No problem. I’ll just add it to your rent bill.”

She smiled. “Fine. But then I’m charging you for my secretarial services. I’m not cheap.”


Tags: Vi Keeland Romance