JORDAN POV
I knew there was something queer about her the minute she got in.
She transformed the room just by walking into it — strong, without laboring to be, beautiful, yes, but also … out of reach. I had seen many women pass through these walls: bargainers, investors, opportunists. But none like her. None unsettled me.
She turned to me, sat up, and gazed at me flatly. She had no vanity in her nor yet despair. No outward confidence, except a quiet one, as though she’d already won.
And God help me, the more she spoke, the more I wanted her.
“This is my price,” she added, tapping a document before her. “It’s fair. More than fair for what I’m giving.”
I sat back in my chair and studied her. That’s when people would start to squirm a bit, eyes darting this way and that, voices and bone
