12

His hand went to his face, like he was going to cough, but a long, deep chuckle came out instead. “Fool, who do you think you’re talking to? Do you really think I fucking believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

His eyes narrowed. “I saw the way you were looking at her. You were doing everything in your power not to throw her across my desk.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking body. I could practically feel her under my fingertips, taste her skin on my tongue.

But things had changed.

She was soon going to be a client, and that was something I wouldn’t mess with.

“Not going to happen, man.” I shook my head to emphasize the point. “Trust me.”

He tapped his fist on the wood. “What do you want to put on it?”

“Your plane.”

He laughed again. “It’s a bet I’m not going to lose, so why don’t you tell me what I’ll get if I win?”

“Name your prize—one of my cars, a trip to fucking Fiji, a hundred grand, whatever you want.”

He stretched his hand in my direction. “You’ve got you