My (Mostly) Secret Baby - Penelope Bloom Page 0,2
hip, blocking my way completely, unless I wanted to mow over her.
“No?”
“Yeah. ‘No.’ Ever heard that? It’s what people say when they don’t plan to take your shit. It means you don’t get to just talk to me like that and expect me to pretend it’s okay.”
I had to fight back a smile. To tell the truth, I did get tired of all the bowing and scraping. Being a ruthless asshole in a position of power quickly turned people into mindless “yes” people. So, in a way, she was right. The word “no” was foreign, but oddly appealing to my ears. It also made me take another look at her. I also couldn’t resist screwing with her a little.
“I hear ‘no’ all the time. When I’m firing people. When I’m ruining their careers. I’ll probably hear it as much as I want if I ask any other agents if they’ve ever heard of you, too.”
She smiled in a way that wasn’t friendly and bubbly like her unbleached hair and freckled nose would make you expect. It was a challenge. It was a statement that she wasn’t cowed in the slightest by my attitude. If anything, it felt like she looked more and more emboldened every time I tried to piss her off.
Yeah, there was a little bit of the boring Barbie look about her. But the closer I looked, the more I wasn’t so sure that was quite right. She had slightly imperfect teeth—like she’d had braces at one point and been too stubborn or lazy to keep up with wearing a retainer. Yes, I still wore mine at night, but that was only because I wasn’t the sort of dumbass to waste years of orthopedic suffering. Deal with it.
For some reason, she was just standing there, apparently fine with taking my insults and saying nothing.
She also had a little crooked slant to her nose, almost like she’d taken a tennis ball to the face. Or, judging by the way she was insisting on poking the bear at the moment, maybe a fist was more likely.
Whatever it was, I made an executive decision that I’d enjoy knocking her down a peg in a more personal way, especially if she wanted to just stand there looking smug.
“But I have a feeling I could make you say ‘yes.’”
“Excuse me?”
“With a little privacy and a few minutes. I’d practically have you screaming it.” I wasn’t sure if I was even serious, but I knew one thing: her straight back and confidence did things to me. They made me want to push until I found how much it took to make her bend. And damn, I had to admit I was starting to wonder how it’d feel to put my hands on her smooth, sun-bronzed skin and do a little bending.
“Not only are you an asshole, you’re delusional.”
“Suit yourself. I’ve got more important things to do than argue with a B level tennis player.”
She huffed, then hurried after me when I went inside the hotel. I had the room number of the meeting on my phone somewhere but didn’t feel like slowing down to find it. I opted to just charge blindly ahead until little miss Barbie decided to give up.
No, the Barbie thing didn’t work anymore. If she was lucky, she was three inches over five feet tall, and I wasn’t sure how she saw over the net. She was more like Tinkerbell.
Why were the short ones always the most stubborn?
After taking a flight up a random number of stairs and veering through several hallways, I turned to find her trailing behind me. I spread my palms at her, feeling the first signs of my calm beginning to erode away. “What do you want, anyway?”
“I was guessing you knew where you were going if you were so important that you could ruin my career. And I assumed that place was the same place I was going.”
I stared. “You don’t even know where the meeting is?”
She swallowed, then shifted on her feet. “I know where it is. But I wanted to keep my eye on you.”
“I’m sure you did.” I started off in another direction, suddenly wishing I’d just looked at where the damn meeting was. “Would you stop fucking following me, Tinkerbell?”
“Tinkerbell? And no. I said I’m going to keep my eye on you, and I plan to do that. If you try to talk shit about me to some big agent, I want to be there to explain that you’re just the