Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Tayson twisted his head, a grimace kissing his forehead as he dwindled his eyes and scrutinized her. His mind flooded with thrills and a veil of stupefaction fell on him. He knew this face. But he drank down the thick lump in his throat and drooped into his professional aura.
His eyes weren't ready to look away as he wrapped his mind around the possibilities of Leona Pierce being the artist he was obsessed with. His mind was failing to join the dots. She was resolved like a sculpture in the museum, not moving an inch. The smell of cigar greeted him when he leaned over the table, and then her eyes.
His breath blundered with her beauty. Oceanic eyes are so deep that could drown and give life to a soul at the same time. They were crafted by long inky eyelashes that flapped once at him. Her bare lips closed around the cigar and she puffed out blubbery smoke that obscured his view of her face and propelled him out of his stance.
"I would rather talk about the contract than have you staring like you have never seen women in your entire life, Mr. Huxley." Her voice chimed extremely expensive, like a vintage vine. It was just like her perfume, dark, and spicy, reminding him about the night and the fantasies it brings with it.
Tayson cleared his throat. "I'm Tay-"
"Tayson Huxley, I know." She let out, dabbing her cigarette and allowing the ash to crumple down.
Tayson embraced his smile, the smile that exemplifies his charisma and pomposity. "Heard about me a lot?"
With her eyebrows arched, Leona leaned against the car. "Well, Ronald wouldn't shut up about you and your desperation to work with me. I couldn't neglect."
The cramp of outrage striped in his chest, and dangerously glimmered in his eyes. But he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of witnessing it. He had dealt with a bunch of tantrums and huffs coming from artists. He comprehended how to straighten them up and let them know their place.
"You mean the man who took you in when your company abandoned you? That's right. That's me. Generosity runs in our family."
"So does pompousness it seems." She shot right back, taking a profound drag in and letting it out. Tayson had zero forbearance for people who smoked, there was a tingle in his bones to yank that tainted stick out of her hand. He wrapped his around his glass of wine so he didn't put his impulsive thoughts into reckless actions.
"Glad to know that we share something in common. Seems like we will get along just fine," He said, taking a sip of his wine, noting that she hadn't even touched her glass.
"We should perhaps get down to the business," Wes hindered their conversation, thrusting the file towards Ryan.
"Before we get there, I have one question," Tayson said, his voice heavy and cautious.
She slightly veered her head, silently asking him to go ahead. "Did you live around here before?"
"No."
"You always lived in London?"
"I thought you only had one question."
"Answer me," he commanded and didn't take long to realize that she don't do well with that tone.
"No."
He comfortably leaned back, a small smile gracing his lips as she leaned away from him, trying to hide from his gaze. Though his aura was confident, he was stupefied as the diva who disappeared five years ago was right in front of him, with altogether a pristine identity. "I know you."
He watched her body freezing like dead just as Ryan shot him a perplexed look. Leona's eyes widened, she seemed shaken up knowing that he recognized her. He threw in the question that was infesting his mind since the minute he saw her. There was a stare-down between them. Fierce combat of eyes and Tayson had no intentions to let her triumph over. Her eyes were so eerily stunning, yet so lethal. It irked him.
YOU ARE READING
Not So Perfect
RomanceForced Proximity| Grumpy female lead and Gentleman male lead| Billionaire| Leona Pierce-heartless and detached artisan collided with Tayson Huxley, the businessman, and famous model and she is engulfed in his pure grey eyes and the world of colors...