Maneater by Mary B. Morrison Page B

tomorrow,” he said.
    Infuriated, I said, “What? Did she ask you to ask me for her laptop? Do you know where Seven is?”
    He sat there, staring through me.
    â€œAnswer me,” I insisted.
    Maverick’s lips curved into a captivating smile that slowly sucked me in. Exposing his incredibly white teeth, he scratched his head, then casually said, “Since it doesn’t feel right, then you’re not the right one to represent me. After dinner I’ll have my driver take you home. Our business here is done.”
    Wrong questions. Wrong answer. Wrong every damn thing. I didn’t want to seem desperate, but this was a prime opportunity to elevate my business, my social status. To be able to say, “I represent Maverick Maxamillion Incorporated,” would triple my clientele. If I did an excellent job for Maverick, he’d give me great referrals. I could stop relying on Deuce to pay my mortgage every month. While I tried to figure out a way to get back into Maverick’s good graces, I sat quietly eating my salad.
    The entrées came, then dessert, then the driver, without further conversation between us. I’d messed up big-time this time.
    â€œIt was nice seeing you, Zena. I’ll have my personal assistant drop by and pick up the dress and shoes tomorrow, and don’t forget the laptop,” Maverick said, excusing himself from the table.
    Leslie approached me, placed her hand on the back of my chair, then politely said, “I’ll escort you back to the car, Ms. Belvedere.”
    There was no red carpet, no roses, no limo, no sexy-ass Danté. A wooden deck, a town car, a mediocre-looking driver, and me all dressed up headed home, with no contract. Who knew what Maverick had planned for me tonight? Obviously, I’d messed that up. I sat in silence, pissed with the way my evening had ended.
    Parked in front of my home, holding open the car door, staring down at me, the driver said, “Ms. Belvedere?”
    â€œYes?” I exhaled, terribly disgusted with myself.
    â€œMr. Maxamillion said that if you’d like to reconsider his offer, let him know, and Danté will pick you up to join Mr. Maxamillion in his owner’s suite at the football game tomorrow night,” the driver said, reaching for my hand.
    Of course, I wanted a second chance…to meet Danté and to work for Maverick, but I refused to betray Seven. I sat there, speechless. I was no fool. If I accepted Maverick’s offer, I’d have to fuck him or cross him at some point. I’d be risking my loyalty to Seven.
    To say yes might cost me my best friend.
    To say no might prove to be the worst business decision of my life.

Chapter 10
Seven
    R estless in Punany Paradise. I hadn’t slept well last night.
    The two escorts had offered to massage me at the same time. They’d said the traditional welcome relaxation treatment would set the tone for my stay. I was probably the only woman who’d refused. Too much on my mind. Not ready for another man’s touch pleasuring my body. Slightly self-conscious, remembering Maverick’s insult, “You might as well be on the field, helping out.” Undeniably, my feelings of inferiority complicated things, making me feel unworthy.
    Mama used to say, “Seven, always love yourself first. First .”
    I know. I know that, Ma, I thought, lying in bed, with my eyes closed. In time I’d get back to loving me first.
    Wasn’t like I loved Maverick more. I simply hadn’t felt good about myself, about us, since our last conversation. Before turning off the lights, easing into bed last night, I’d turned on my phone, lowered the volume, then placed it on the charger, not wanting to miss a call or text from Maverick or Zena. No intention to respond, just wanted to know if either of them was thinking…about me.
    â€œLet it go, Seven. Let it go,” I’d cried, scrambling my legs in the sheets. Hadn’t