The Unblocked Collection (8 page)

I wanted—no, I
needed
—this account, to prove to my father how competent and responsible I had become and to see how far I could push myself. But I had limits.

FROM:
Jordan, Frankie

TO:
Mullen, Will

SENT:
April 18, 6:11am

SUBJECT:
Danishes or Bagels?

Hi Will,

Thanks for the notice. I really appreciate it. Fortunately, tomorrow works for me, so I’ll be there bright and early. I’m sure you and Derek won’t have time to grab breakfast, so how about I bring some coffee and danishes—or maybe you’d prefer bagels and lox instead? Please only reply if you have a preference. If not, I’ll bring both.

-Frankie

I had neglected to check tomorrow’s schedule before replying, so I took a second and did just that. I had a nine o’clock staff meeting, followed by an appointment with one of our vendors. Not knowing how long things would take with Derek, I texted Brea and asked her to free up my morning by rescheduling everything for later in the afternoon. Then I set my phone back on the nightstand, just as the screen lit up again. One word in the message caught my attention: Block.

FROM:
Block, Derek

TO:
Jordan, Frankie; Mullen, Will

SENT:
April 18, 6:14am

SUBJECT:
Neither.

Just bring you.

There was no closing, not even a signature. Only those three demanding syllables. I didn’t know how something so short—so unlike the way I was ever spoken to—could excite me. But it did…and then, the fingers that gripped my phone excited me even further.

Something was happening to me, and I was having a hard time controlling it.

***

I’d been sitting in Derek’s office for over an hour. I was on my third cup of coffee, and I’d already finished a bagel and lox, plus a few bites of the cheese Danish he insisted I have. The selection he had chosen for breakfast was no coincidence. But even after all this, we were no closer to signing a contract.

His questions were endless, his face stoic as I answered. There were permanent lines etched into his forehead and on the sides of his mouth, lines caused by raising his brows and smiling. He had done both at the restaurant; if I’d read him correctly, he’d even flirted a little. He wasn’t doing any of that now—his lips were pulled together, surrounded by whiskers that were even longer than they’d been the day before. His brows remained in place, and he was completely professional. I knew he was thinking about me; I just didn’t know in what capacity.

 Those electric blue eyes seemed to see straight through me as he spoke. They often pierced me silent. Ordinarily, I loathed wasting quiet spans like these; they were gaps I could use to persuade my listener. But I relished them here, with Derek, and I was intrigued by how much they affected me.

Several more hushed seconds passed before he said, “Tell me about your style, Frankie.”

“My style?”

His face remained blank. “Are you a wait-and-see kind of woman, or do you jump right in and use your hands to work up a closing?”

I straightened my legs and crossed them again. The chair had been surprisingly comfortable when I’d first sat down. Now it was miserably stiff and was making me the same. “It depends. I’ve learned to listen to my gut, anticipate the possible outcomes and move appropriately.”

“What is your gut telling you right now?”

That every time I looked at him, I was reminded of his starring role in my dreams, and the talents he had portrayed in them. I had to forget those and focus on the things that mattered: the sales records we would break; the daily challenges he would set for me; how I would need to find a balance when representing his interests and the buyers’. “That it would be an honor to learn from you.”

His eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you interested in learning?”

“Your method of construction, your motivation, your drive. Everyone has a different approach. I want to know yours, as much as you want to know mine.”

The prospect of working so closely with him was nerve-wracking, but the things he would teach me outweighed that. I wasn’t afraid to admit there were procedures I hadn’t yet mastered, especially when it came to the process of construction. Being Derek’s pupil would have multiple benefits, one being that I’d get to experience the reaction of his stare almost every day.

The smallest hint of a smile crossed his lips. It only lasted a second. “I want you to surprise me again.”

“Again?” I didn’t know how I’d surprised him the first time.

“Tell me what the outcome of our partnership will be.”

It felt like the temperature in the room had changed. Beads of sweat began to form on my back, my shirt sticking to my skin. I gripped the armrests to steady both hands. “I plan on selling every unit in record time, some before they hit MLS. Others right—”

“No.” His expression finally changed—to boredom. “The outcome of
our
partnership.”

My first stumble. But I knew how to fix it.

“We’ll be the power team of Boston,” I told him. “Two forces, experts in our domains…we’ll be unstoppable. The result will be explosive.”

His temperament was dark and demanding, but his eyes had lightened and he looked intrigued.

My hands dropped from the armrests and moved to the edge of his desk as I leaned forward, coming closer toward his space. “My goal is to make you so much money you can ditch your investors, fund your own line of credit and pay for your next building in cash. I know what buyers in this market want and what they need. You’ll have direct access to that knowledge—and to me…I’ll be at your disposal through the entire project.” I felt my cheeks start to flush, but I was confident in my answer.

He looked down at his lap as he processed my answer. Maybe I had misjudged his goals. Every artist had a different vision, and developers were no different. They were artistic visionaries who created spaces that entwined their love for composition and living. Some who I’d worked with wanted only to carry out their family’s business; others stayed in the industry because they knew nothing else. When Derek had spoken of his practices earlier in our meeting, there had been passion in his description, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was financially motivated.

He looked up slowly, first at my wrist, moving gradually up my arm, until his gaze met my face. His eyes turned hooded, as though he could barely restrain himself from me. It started a tingling in my lower stomach that shot between my legs. I liked the sensation and the way his eyes devoured me; it just came with so many mixed emotions.

“You’re wearing the bracelet,” he said.

I glanced at his wrist, noting that it was bare. “You told me to.”

“Will you do everything I tell you?”

This was where I proved my mettle—to myself, if not to him. “No, Derek, I won’t. If that’s what you’re looking for, Julia would be a much better fit than me.”

He kept me in suspense for several seconds before he said, “Give me the contract. I’ll have my attorney review it and, as long as we can come to an agreement on your commission, you can consider yourself hired—exclusively. The entire building is yours to sell.”

DEREK

I HADN’T GIVEN FRANKIE
any indication during our meeting that I’d decided to hire her. That had been my plan all along, and judging by the look of shock on her face, it had worked. I wanted to see if she could endure over an hour’s worth of questioning, if I could make her doubt her abilities. I wanted to see if she would be resistant to me. She endured, all right. She even seemed to flourish more as the interview went on. As for being resistant, her words told me she was, her body told me otherwise. Her eyes, too. She couldn’t hide her desires—and those were inspired completely by me. I had no doubt.

After the initial shock wore off, a look of pleasure spread over her face. “You’ve surprised me, Derek.”

That smile…it made me wonder if she’d be wearing the same gorgeous expression when my tongue was lapping her cunt. I hated that I’d have to wait to find out that answer.

“Good.”

She reached into her bag and removed a stack of paperwork, like I had suspected she would. All business. She laid the folder in front of me. “Before we move forward, there are a few things I’d like to address.”

“Address them, then.”

“I don’t mind having meetings at seven in the morning. I do mind the short notice, however. I have an extremely full schedule, as I’m sure you do. So let’s agree to a seventy-two hour notice.”

“Forty-eight hours.”

She smiled again. She knew I’d negotiate. “Agreed. Also, I don’t think it’s too much to expect you to trust me and allow me to market the properties any way I want. No asking for permission, no signing off on advertising campaigns, as long as I sell these units in a reasonable amount of time and at a price you’re comfortable with then I’m in charge.”

She had no idea what she was asking for. Trust? Fuck trust. Even the ones who were supposed to love you only looked out for themselves at times. If she wanted that from me, she’d have to earn it. I’d give her the chance and I’d also allow her to be in charge of the sales decisions. But that was the only control she was getting. What she didn’t know was Will would be watching. “Agreed.”

Her neck arched as if I’d slapped her, and the grin she was already wearing spread even wider. Those thick, glossed lips were framing a perfect set of white teeth.

“Have I surprised you again, Frankie?”

“Honestly, I thought it was going to be much harder than this.”

She had no idea how hard I really was. “There are moments when I’m willing to be reasonable. This is one of those rare occasions. Do you have any other terms, or are you going to loosen the collar you’ve thrown around my neck and allow me to voice mine now?”

“By all means.” She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing over those perky little tits. “I’d love to hear them.”

“I’ll be working out of this office until all the units have sold. That means I’m available to buyers, but only to those under contract. I don’t want every prospect coming in here and wasting my time by asking questions they can find answers to on the internet.”

“I’ll keep the meetings to a minimum, and I’ll pre-screen their questions.”

Another good answer. “I want weekly sales meetings and an email at the end of each day, telling me what units were shown and if there was any interest. When a contract is submitted, I want to know about it, even if it’s three in the morning. I want to know
everything
.”

“Everything,” she repeated. “Of course.”

 I could tell she didn’t understand the exception I was making for her. She needed to. “I’m giving you freedom, Frankie. Freedom to wrangle your way into any sale you please. I’ve never given any of my past agents this much freedom. Don’t mistake it for favor, or those privileges will be rescinded. Our communication will either make this power team, or it will destroy us.”

“I won’t disappoint you.” Even that didn’t throw her.

I wanted her to say that while she was on her knees, looking up at me with those big gunmetal eyes, holding my thick cock in her hand.

Where our business arrangement was concerned, she had yet to disappoint me. Given that our weekly sales meeting would eliminate the need for daily emails, I hadn’t expected her to comply with my requests. But she had.

“I know you won’t, Frankie.”

If this exchange were any indication, we’d be getting along just fine—that was, if I could keep my damn hands off her. All I could picture was her dark hair spread over my black walnut desk, her feet curled around its beveled edge…

Working with her was going to be torturous.

But I needed her to be my agent almost as much as I needed her to be my fantasy fuck.

She slid forward in her chair. “I’ve agreed to everything you’ve asked for. My team is on standby; as soon as you sign the contract, we’ll hire a photographer and start planning the unveiling party. Have I missed anything?”

 She wasn’t as seductive as she had been at the restaurant. The wine had made her much looser than normal. I understood her professionalism. It served to make her a bit more challenging… and I understood that even better.

No…not understood.

I fucking
loved
it.

“Dinner tomorrow night.” I wanted to see her in something less constricting, and I wanted a glass of wine in her hand.

“We haven’t even begun, and you’ve already broken the forty-eight hour rule.”

That made me want to smile, but I didn’t. “If you’re not free, we can do the following night.”

“What would we be discussing?”

She wouldn’t appreciate an honest response, so I fed her one that would satisfy her business sensibilities. “Marketing plans. I may not need to approve them, but I do want to hear about them.”