Chapter 2
1602 Words
Olivia's POV
The inside of the clubhouse was just as I expected.
Dark wood, leather furniture, a bar along one wall.
Motor parts and tools cluttered every surface.
And everywhere, there were men watching me like I'd just walked into a wolf den wearing a meat suit.
“Can we help you?” A massive guy, the size of a truck stepped forward. His arms were larger than my thighs, and he had a scary scar along his left eyebrow.
A patch on his vest read ‘Tank’.
How original.
“I'm here to see Jax,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I couldn't let these people see how nervous I was, “I have a two o’clock meeting.”
Tank sized me up slowly, “So you're the lawyer girl,”
"Olivia Chen. Sterling & Associates."
"Never seen a lawyer in Louboutins before.” This came from another man with sharp features and multiple piercings. His own patch said ‘Razor’. “Must be nice, having money to burn on shoes.”
I gave him a polite smile, "They're comfortable.”
“They're stupid. Try running in those,” He said with a lopsided grin.
“I don't plan on running,”
“Maybe you should,”
“Razor.”
A deep voice came from behind me.
“Stop scaring the lawyer,”
I turned. And –oh
Oh – no.
Jax was not what I had expected. I'd been prepared for rough, maybe dangerous, probably tattooed.
But what I was not ready for…was him.
Jax was tall – easily over six feet with a sharp jaw line and broad shoulders that filled his leather jacket in a way that should be illegal.
Tattoos snaked up his neck and disappeared under his collar, intricate designs I wanted to trace with my fingers.
But his eyes – it was his eyes that stopped me cold.
Piercing green.
He gave me this look that had me wondering if he could see every secret I'd ever kept, every lie I'd told, and every insecurity I'd tried to hide.
Under his stare, I felt naked.
Get it together, Olivia. He's just a man.
“Mr Jax,” I held out a hand, definitely not thinking about how his forearms looked in that black t-shirt, “Thank you for meeting with me,”
“Just Jax,”
Electricity shot through me as his hand connected with mine. In fact, it was a surprise I didn't jump from the effect.
"And you're the lawyer trying to steal my garage.”
"I'm here to present a very generous offer.”I pulled my hand back, resisting the urge to flex my fingers. Then, I looked around at the men staring at us, "Perhaps we could speak somewhere private?”
"Nothing's private here, counselor.” He gestured to them, "This is my VP, Razor. You met Tank. And that's Doc.”
He nodded towards an older man with his head buried in a book in the corner.
"Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of my brothers.”
Right. Because this wasn't going to be difficult enough.
“Fine,” Swiftly, I opened my suitcase and pulled out the contract, “Your property has been valued at thirty million dollars. My client is prepared to offer you forty million for a clean sale. That's ten million over market value, Mr. – Jax. You and your club members could relocate anywhere you want. Buy a bigger garage. Better equipment. This is an opportunity.”
Jax didn't even look at the contract. His eyes remained fixed on me.
"Forty million," he repeated slowly.
"Yes."
"And where exactly are we supposed to relocate? Manhattan?" He gave me an unfriendly smile, “Because I'm sure my brothers would love to pay Manhattan rent on a garage.”
"Brooklyn has plenty of available properties – "
"Not like this one."
Jax took a step closer to me, and I had to fight the urge to step back. I caught a whiff of his cologne.
Oh God, could this man be any more perfect? “My father built this garage, counsellor. Thirty years ago, when this neighborhood was nothing but empty lots and broken dreams. He worked himself to death, making this place something the community could count on.”
Well, my career is at stake too, Mr Jax. So what happens now?”
“Look,” I began as an itch started around my eyebrows, "I understand this has sentimental value –”
Jax gave a sharp laugh, “You think this is about sentiment. A lot of people depend on us. Tell me, counsellor, what's your client going to do for this community? Build luxury condos no one here can afford?”
My mouth went dry as I thought of what to say. I'd not plan to be put on the spot by a hot guy.
“The development will bring –”
“What? Construction jobs that disappear in six months? Then, rich people move in and prices go up, and the people who actually live here get pushed out,” Jax's eyes blazed with anger that made me shrink. “That's what your client does, right? Buys up neighborhoods and guts them?”
Right. I was losing the negotiation already, and I just got here. Harlord will be impressed.
“That's not –”
“It is,” He grabbed the contract document from my hands, and our fingers brushed. The electric shock was stronger this time, “Let me save you sometime, Miss Olivia Chen. I'm not selling. Not for forty million. Not for a hundred million. This garage isn't for sale.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze, “Everything's for sale. It's just a matter of price.”
He laughed, his head tilted as he studied me, “That's what you believe, huh? Must be a sad way to live,”
I folded my arms. What did he think? Because he was not selling a piece of garbage – well, no, not garbage – he was better than me?
“It's a realistic way to live, Jax,”
"It's a cynical way to live." He handed the contract back. "But I guess you'd have to be cynical to work for Ethan Caldwell.”
My blood froze.
“Excuse me?”
Jax tapped the bottom of the contract document casually, “Caldwell Development Group. That name means something to you, counselor?”
Don't react, Olivia. Don't you dare react.
“He's my client,” I said, trying to sound as unbothered as possible.
“You sure that's all?” Jax smiled, “Because you looked like you wanted to set this contract on fire when I mentioned his name.”
Well, damn you for being so observant, Jax, I thought.
"My relationship with the developer is professional," I said, ice in every word.
“Mmhmm,” Jax circled me like a predator, closing in on its prey, "So if I called Ethan right now, he wouldn't have anything interesting to say about you?”
“A lot of things are inappropriate, Miss Chen. But that doesn't mean they're not true,” He came to a stop directly in front of me. He stood close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, “You know what I think? I think you're here because you don't have a choice,”
I could not breathe. I could not even move. His gaze on me was too intense.
Somehow, he'd managed to see through me in just five minutes flat.
"I think," I said quietly, dangerously, "that you should sign the contract before this gets ugly.”
Jax gave me a smile that increased my heart rate, “Oh, counselor, it's already ugly. You just haven't figured that out yet,”
I shoved the contract back into my suitcase, “This isn't over,”
“I hope not,”
I turned to leave before I did something stupid.
Like cry or scream or kiss him like my life depended on it.
That would not look good on my portfolio.
“Miss Chen?”
I stopped in my tracks, but I didn't turn around,
“Next time you come here, leave the armor at the door. It does not suit you,”
Whatever that was.
My hands were shaking by the time I got to my car. The meeting had been a catastrophic failure.
The death of my career.
Jax hadn't even considered the offer. God, what was I going to do? I thought as I fought back the tears threatening to spill.
My phone rang. Harlord's name flashed across the screen.
I took three deep breaths, forced my voice into something calm then answered.
“How did it go?" Harold demanded.
"As expected," I lied smoothly. "They're resistant, but that's normal in these cases. I'm working on finding leverage.”
"Work faster, Chen. Ethan wants this closed by the end of the month."
Of course he does.
“I'll handle it,” I hung up before Harlord could ask any more questions.
I glanced in the rearview mirror, about to pull out, and froze.
There was Jax, standing in the garage doorway, watching me.
Our gazes locked in the mirror. He didn't smile or anything. No, he just stood there watching me like he knew more about me than I did.
I pulled out of the parking lot faster than necessary, but even as I drove back to Manhattan –
I could still feel his stare burning into my back.
- Writer
