Chapter Two

Brooklyn

The arrogant son of a bitch had nerve. I had to give him that much.

Dumbfounded by the audacity of this man's boldness, if I weren't so worried, tired, and agitated, I may have found humor in the situation. He didn't know shit about me, so what gave him the right to offer me business advice like I cared what he thought? Did he get his rocks off by criticizing and humiliating women? By trying to make them feel like the less powerful sex? If that was the case, then he was going to walk away with one hell of a limp dick.

"Try updating the place a little," he said in a thoughtful tone. "It could make a difference."

For a few heartbeats, I just stared at the man, silent, while wondering why he gave a damn, and why I was so aware of him. Was I intimidated by his height? His good looks or obvious wealth? Maybe the snake tattoo on his neck with its golden eyes that seemed to stare straight through my soul? No. There was something more. Something deeper.

Confidence, power, and arrogance were what I saw in this stranger. All three radiated off him. From his perfect coifed dark hair to the exquisite cut of his suit and fancy leather shoes. The angle of his jaw and its perfectly shaved stubble to the steadiness of his gaze and the way he held his head high and chest lifted. This man was a leader, a controller, and someone who was in charge of everyone around him. But despite the sparks of heat he ignited in my core, he was barking up the wrong tree trying to tell me how to run my business.

I waved a finger in his face. "What makes you think I need some stranger telling me how to run my business? I'm doing just fine on my own," I added in my most patronizing tone.

Without a flinch in his expression while tapping his fingers on the table beside him, he replied, "Yet here we are. The only ones in the place."

Screw his wise ass! The alpha sexist pig! Who the hell did he think he was dealing with? Some weak female who threw in the towel when times were tough? Who gave up just because customers were nonexistent at the moment?

As fucking if. I'd weathered way worse storms than this.

Raised by a single mother who had worked since she was thirteen, weak and needy were two traits discouraged early in my brother's and my life. She'd grown up in an impoverished family and knew the struggles of putting food on the table. But she never complained. Not even when I knew she was stressed about stretching her paycheck another week. Or when utility cut-off notices arrived in the mail. Despite the hardships of raising a family on one income, she never gave up. On my tenth birthday, I questioned her about why our dad wanted nothing to do with us and remember her response like it was yesterday. "That man was as useless as a screen door on a submarine. We're all better off without him and I won't allow my son and daughter to grow up with his lack of backbone." We didn't have a lot, but the three of us shared a bone-deep love and respect for one another that was better than anything money could buy. When stage four breast cancer was minutes from taking what life was left in Momma's frail body on the eve of my sixteenth birthday, she looked me in the eye and said, "You were gifted with the talent of baking and with a smart head on your shoulders. Don't waste what God gave you."

There was a time I didn't think I could survive without my mother. Wasn't sure I wanted to. Without Ben, I wouldn't have.

A week after her burial, Ben took a second job delivering pizzas while continuing the retail job he had worked since he was sixteen. The manufactured house we lived in was paid for but run-down and in need of repair. Plus, we needed the extra money for utilities, food, and everyday expenses. Even with what we were eligible to receive on Momma's social security, it wasn't enough. Yet despite our financial hardships, Ben refused to let me work part-time, claiming it was his responsibility. "Finish high school. Then we'll talk about what comes next," he always used to say when I mentioned finding something on weekends.

For a while, I didn't think twice when he said the local pizza place stayed open later than it used to or that his sudden weight loss was due to fatigue and stress. But when the late hours increased, my suspicions followed. Withdrawing from lifelong friends. Constant phone calls all hours of the night. Mood swings and temper outbursts out of character for his normal disposition. Ben was involved in something dangerous and though he wouldn't admit it, I suspected he was involved in drugs. "I owe some people money," was all he said when I'd questioned his sudden change in personality.

The last year hadn't been easy. Not only had I been struggling to keep my business afloat, but my relationship with my brother was going south. Ben had begun stealing money from my wallet, his violent outbursts had increased, and stress between the two of us had started taking its toll.

I didn't condone his actions, but I loved him. He was my family. He gave up everything to help me through the grief of losing our mother, got me through high school, and made sure I had clothes on my back and food in my belly.

I'd do anything I could to protect Ben.

I snapped out of my memories and blinked up into those dark eyes again. My business was suffering and my bank account days from depleted, but I was no quitter. And despite this stranger offering his two cents, this was my business, my problem, my decision. The last thing I wanted or needed was an alpha jackass I didn't even know getting in my business and treating me like some kind of charity case.

Why did he give a rat's ass anyway?

"Gee, your suggestions are golden," I said, annoyed. "I guess I could sell a kidney. Maybe an arm. What's really going on here?" I asked with a push in my tone. "Are you the mob or something? Some gangster planning to intervene and take over struggling businesses in the area?"

Holding my gaze with his eyes darkening to an espresso brown, he said, "I assure you I'm not the mob. Nor do I hold interest in overtaking small businesses. I'm just an entrepreneur who happened to offer a beautiful woman some sound advice." After staring at me long enough to make my heartbeat feel like it was about to push through my chest, he glanced at the shiny watch on his wrist, an irrational overpriced luxury brand I suspected. "I need to get going, but consider my recommendations, Ms. Nelson. They could make some difference." Without another word, he rotated, threw his empty coffee cup into the garbage, and walked out the door.

Ms. Nelson? With a chill rippling down my spine while wondering how this man knew my last name, I shook it off. I had more on my plate than worrying about some wealthy stranger who I'd never lay eyes on again and didn't care to. But damn him for making my body hum. Damn him so much.