Let's Play A Dirty Ass Game, Mr. CEO

Chapter 72: A LITTLE GIFT

LAURA

"What other proof do you need?" The influencer blasted, getting riled up too quickly.

"Am I not proof enough, huh?"

I arched a brow, remaining very patient because I knew I was in control now.

I had her where I needed her, thankfully.

"How can that be?" I asked in an annoyingly cool voice. "We need substantial proof that you bought a fake from the Pierce store." I folded my arms and leaned back in my seat. "Where is your substantial proof?"

She scoffed. "This is ridiculous. Do you expect me to carry fake jeans around? Huh?!"

"You might want to keep your voice down, Ms. Montero," Tristan warned in a cold voice, his glare deadly. Goosebumps washed down my skin...because it almost felt like he was protecting me...standing up for me.

He looked like he was ready to pounce on anyone who raised their voice at me. Man or woman.

And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t light my body up in ways it shouldn’t.

Mr. Warren chose this moment to intervene. "Ms. Hayes, you can’t possibly expect my client to carry her jeans around everywhere she—"

"Respectfully, Mr. Warren, I didn’t ask for her jeans. I only asked for proof of the counterfeit she claims to have bought from this store."

"You want proof? Fine!" The influencer reached into her oversized purse and retrieved an orange tablet. Then she slapped it down on the desk and jabbed a manicured finger at it.

"Take a look at it! Does this look like authentic jeans to you?!"

I pulled the tablet close and squinted at the screen until I found what I was looking for.

The serial number of the jean. Which in this case...was not really a serial number. Just a scrawl of random numbers to make it look like the real thing.

I picked up the tablet and pushed to my feet. Then I strode over to where Tristan sat and leaned over him, letting my breasts hover above his head.

"Can you get them to run this through the supply chain? As quickly as possible, please."

He twisted his head slightly and met my gaze. My insides turned to mush as those blue eyes dilated. "Yes ma’am," he responded softly. Then he whipped out his phone and took a quick shot of the image.

"Hey!" The influencer piped, lunging out of her chair like she’d been stung, or had some kind of high-secret stuff she didn’t want us seeing on her tab."What are you doing?!"

"We’re simply checking your so-called proof to see how authentic it is," Tristan spat as he typed furiously on his phone.

I was almost tempted to ask him to be careful and not gloat yet, as the tables had quite turned yet.

After a while, he bolted his feet and pumped his fist in the air. "Yes! I knew it."

"What?" I asked, hurrying over to him.

He showed me his phone. The result of the supply chain scan showed zero matches with the serial number on the influencer’s supposed counterfeit outfit.

I turned to the influencer and her lawyer with a smile plastered on my face. "Well, I guess the truth’s been digitized already."

"Can I have my fucking tablet now?" she spat.

I snatched it up and took it to her. But as she reached for it, unable to stop the redness from spreading everywhere on her face, I held the device back from her reach.

"Ms. Montero, do you think perhaps you might have picked the wrong store this time?"

Her face clouded over. "What do you mean?"

"You obviously picked the outfit up from some other store or somehow got your hands on the knockoff version of the number one trending jeans in New York. And voila, you decided to blame it on the very place you knew would generate the most buzz. The same place that produced these trending jeans." I heaved a sigh, pouting. "But I’m sorry to say your game ends here."

Cara Montero was white in the face. "Ohh, fuck you. Bold of you to make an assumption that big! You think I’m trying to scam the store?"

I lifted my shoulders in a careless shrug. "No one said a word about a scam here, Ms. Montero. I was leaning towards ’misleading’, but I guess you know the truth for yourself."

Unable to keep it together any longer, she slammed her hands on the table and jumped to her feet. "I won’t have this anymore. How dare you insult me? Do you know who I am?"

"I don’t care who you are. I only care about what’s right. And you have done nothing but the opposite of right, which you will have to pay for."

Her brows pinched into a scowl. "So now I’m the one paying? In your dreams!"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Tristan and his lawyer conversing in hushed whispers. Then his lawyer straightened and stood.

"Ms. Montero, my client has decided to quietly let this go away, but if you keep insisting, you’ll be getting a countersuit from us, and will be asked to settle the store for damages to reputation and profit generation, which will be nothing as little as two million dollars."

Her face fell and her knuckles turned white against the table.

Too bad. She failed drastically at whatever she had planned.

I couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not...the stunt she pulled.

But I could just sniff it out the moment I heard about it. Foul play.

I watched with satisfaction brimming in my chest as her lawyer leaned close to her ear and whispered something to her.

One thing was certain. We had won. Pierce Holdings was in the clear. And it was me who did that. I saved the day, saved Tristan’s fashion subsidiary from a crisis that would have blasted through his sales and left it trembling.

God, it felt really good to actually do this...especially knowing it was Tristan who was getting saved.

I was fucking proud of myself. And God...was he proud of me too?

The way he was looking at me...like he couldn’t wait for everyone else to get out so he could grab me up and devour me with his lips.

°°°

"Just one drink, Laura. Celebrate with me, please."

I reluctantly followed Tristan back to his office after I confirmed that Ivy had picked up Eli from school.

It was just even more difficult to shut out that voice that kept whispering all the wrong and naughty ideas into my head.

Even as I watched him pour two glasses of champagne, I tried to shut the voice out and remind myself that one glass was more than enough to celebrate before I was bolting out of here.

Tristan brought a glass over to me and clinked his against mine. "Cheers."

"Cheers," I clipped out, tossing the drink down at one go.

But that was the wrong move. Because it immediately swirled in my head and made me unsteady on my feet.

Tristan’s burning stare never left my face. "So, what would you like as a celebration gift?"

"Celebration gift?" I risked a glance at him and my heart swooned into my chest.

"You did a big one for me." He stepped close.

My brain screamed to back away. But my body wanted to be close to him.

So I took a daring step towards him. "How about I give you a little gift instead and we call it a night?"

His eyes dropped to my lips and desire pooled like a dark storm in the depths. "Depends on what your gift is. If it’s too good, I’m afraid the night would be a fucking long one."