“If you give me a chance, I could show you that I actually know what I’m doing. Not only that, I’ll be one of the best mechanics on your team.”

“No. You have an hour, Quinn. Take it and get out.”

“I won’t leave.”

“Fuck me!” he yells, moving his hand from the wall and curling it around my ponytail. He tugs my head back and brings my face close to his. “We are not doing this.”

“We are doing this.”

“We’re not!”

“We are!”

He pushes off the wall and pulls a phone from his pocket.

“Seriously?” I cry, but my throat goes tight. “You’re going to call the cops on me?”

“Yeah, I am,” he mutters, his back to me.

“I just want a job,” I say and my voice cracks. “I can’t stay at home, I can’t…”

He turns and looks at me, still holding the phone to his ear. “You want a job? You can be a receptionist. That’s all you’ll get from me.”

“It’s not me,” I whisper.

He pulls the phone down, presses a few buttons and then stuffs it back into his pants. He strides towards me. “Then go and find a job somewhere else. I’m not playing this game, Quinn. You want to hang onto something desperately that isn’t yours to hold onto anymore, that’s fine, you can work here in the office. If you’re not happy with that, you will go and find something else. You have an hour to make the choice, or I call the cops.”

He’ll do it, I can see it in his eyes. My heart burns and desperation takes over. A receptionist isn’t what I want to be, but I’m not ready to leave the garage. Besides, if I’m here every day, I might get the chance to prove myself to Tazen. It’s a small chance, but it’s hope and I won’t give up, so I do the only thing I can.

“Fine, I’ll be your receptionist.”

His eyes study me, as if he’s trying to see if I’m joking or playing with him. I cross my arms and stay serious.

“Good, you start tomorrow. Eight until four, I’ll pay you a generous salary.”

“Fine.”

He sighs. “Fuck me.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

My first day as Tazen’s official receptionist is ugly. We fight, we argue, he tells me I’m doing things wrong and I tell him he has no idea how to run an office. I direct calls to the wrong places, send important customers away by mistake and generally fail. My second day is no better, and the bickering between Tazen and me seems that much worse. By the third day, I am slowly getting the hang of things, but the tension has hardly eased.

“You need to file by first name.”

I sigh loudly as I look up from my filing to see Tazen standing over me, staring down at what I’m doing.

“No, Tazen, you do it by the last name.”

“I don’t call people by their last names.”

“Doesn’t matter. The system is more accurate this way.”

“Give me the Michelson folder,” he grunts.

“Their car is finished and delivered.”

“Did payment clear?”

I nod. “This morning.”

“And the paperwork?”

“Filed, your majesty.”

He sighs, long and deep. “I have no idea why I took pity on you and let you in here.”

“Neither do I, but now I’m your official employee, you can’t just kick me out.”

He crosses his arms. “Can’t I?”

“Absolutely not. You owe me a warning or two.”

“Honestly. Are you always such a pain?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It would appear you liked me enough to kiss me and lie to me to get what you wanted.”

He snorts. “Still not over it, I see.”

“I’m well over it.”

“Then why so bitter? Let me guess, it was the best kiss of your life and you can’t stop thinking about it?”

I glare over at him and cross my legs. “Kissing a three-legged dog with halitosis would be more enjoyable.”

He gives me a lazy, half grin that makes my panties extremely wet. I should be ashamed of myself. I should hate this man, but instead I’m lusting over him like a horny teenaged boy.

“I can guarantee that isn’t the case,” he purrs. “You’ve probably stuck your fingers deep, deep inside…”

“Don’t,” I cut him off.

He leans down, placing a hand on the desk and making me tilt back on my chair to avoid being so close to his amazing mouth. “You’ve thought about me, angel,” he growls. “Just like I’ve thought about you.”

He called me angel.

He hasn’t done that since our kiss.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

He pushes off the desk. “If I was to put my fingers into your panties right now—”

I cut him off. “Which you won’t.”

“You’d be wet for me,” he continues.

“I’m dry as a desert. Now, I’m busy. Can you leave?”

He winks at me. “Of course, angel.”

Prick.

*   *   *

Day four is at an end, and it’s been a crazy week. I’ve never been more excited for the weekend as I am right now. I’ve finished up for the day, and as far as I know, there are only a few guys left in the garage. Tazen is mid-build on a massive project, which is a custom two-door coupe that is freaking amazing. It has a Shelby Cobra look, only it’s sleeker. I must admit, I’m curious. I want to get in there and look under the hood, fascinated by what they’re creating.

I lock the office and walk towards the exit when I hear them talking. Tazen and a group of men. They aren’t familiar voices, and when I look over, I see three men in suits talking closely with him. They look like they’re discussing something serious. I stop behind Tazen’s truck, which blocks me from view and listen. It’s Tazen’s voice I hear the clearest, and it has an edge to it that has my curiosity piquing.

“I told you,” he hisses. “I’m done makin’ that shit for you.”

“We have money, Tazen, and you have the time. Don’t see why it’s such a big issue for you to build something for us. What happens after that isn’t your problem.”

Tazen snorts. “Like fuck it isn’t. You fuckers get busted, and it’s my name on those cars.”

“And?” The man grunts. “You build it, we buy it, after that it’s our problem.”

“Until they start questioning me.”

I narrow my eyes. Questioning him? About what? I don’t understand what’s going on, but whatever it is … it seems sketchy.

“And you tell them you have no idea what they’re talking about, you sold the car and that’s that.”

Tazen laughs bitterly. “We both know it doesn’t work like that. The heat gets turned up and you pricks decide to run your mouths off and sink me. No. I’m not building that shit for you anymore, I’m picking up my business here and putting a foot in the racing industry because that’s where the money is. End of story.”

“Sheyenne wants a car, Tazen. She won’t race in anything that isn’t yours.”