Revolt (Legends and Love)

“Miss . . .” The man hesitates as I climb inside the Rolls Royce and stroke the leather. He’s the manager here.

The sales associate panicked and bolted when I bent over to check out the trunk of the car. It’s clear the manager hates me; it’s in the distasteful way he watches me moan as I touch the car. It’s not meant to be pornographic, I promise, but it’s just so sexy. I’m imagining all the ways I could fuck in it when he steps closer. His stern lips are tilted down, and his small eyes narrow farther. His receding hairline isn’t hidden by the comb-over, and the slight beer gut can’t be disguised by his designer suit.

“We would prefer if you didn’t sit in the car just yet. As I was saying, we have a waitlist on vehicles at the moment. Maybe we should sit and talk. I’m assuming you’re using your daddy’s or husband’s money? We would need their permission before we continue.”

My hand stills on the leather, and anger flows through me at his assumption and the cocky way he watches me.

I see my new guards frown. Dal even steps forward as if to deal with the threat, so I gracefully climb from the car. I’ve been looked down on a lot in my career, called names, and treated like trash, a whore, a child, and a fuck toy. I’ve taken it all in the name of my career, but it’s clear this man doesn’t know who I am, nor does he care. He saw what he wanted to when he looked at me and assumed that a man must be buying because obviously, women can’t earn their own way, especially enough to buy his fancy cars, which he probably can’t even afford himself.

The prick.

The old me would politely explain then feel angry and scandalized and rant when she got home, but not the new me. The new me wants to cause chaos and see this chauvinistic, fuckwit meat sack on his knees, begging for my forgiveness.

“You assume wrong,” I reply slowly, straightening to my full height. There’s a flare of annoyance in his eyes when I tower over him in my heels. Men tower over me all the time, using their height and weight to their advantage, so I use it now on a man who no doubt comments rude shit about women online. He seems like the keyboard warrior type.

He sniffs, eyeing me in disgust.

I slide my hand down the car, making sure to leave a handprint, and then I slip past him, purposely hitting him so he stumbles back a step, and then I turn and take in the brightly lit dealership. There are ten or more cars here. They are all perfectly placed on pedestals and polished to perfection. The glass lets out onto the main road filled with expensive sports cars of the rich and famous, since we are in the classy part of town. Champagne mixed with fancy food sits to one side, ready to be served, and there are screens everywhere, showing dramatic footage of the cars in action. There are men milling about in suits, but only one female, who sits at the desk, watching the man I’m talking to with anger in her eyes. Clearly, she doesn’t like the sexist pig either.

This place is too flashy, too showy, and I want to fuck some shit up. I want to paint the walls, turn on some music, get drunk, and dance on the cars, but I’ll settle for embarrassing this asshole.

“How much for all these cars?” I question, propping my hands on my hips. Others are staring now, mainly workers. Some are whispering, and one has his phone out, showing someone else a picture—no doubt it’s of me.

“Look, miss, maybe you should leave.”

“I said, how much?” I demand, and then I point to the woman working behind the desk. “You, I bet you know. I am sure you have to do the work around here anyway. How much for all of them?”

She hesitates, looking at her boss, so I step in front of him. “Don’t look at this pompous idiot. Please, could you find out how much?”

She grins, hiding it as she ducks her head and types. I wink at my guards. Astro is grinning widely, and Dal is glaring at the man. Raffiel is near the door with his arms crossed, watching me with a blank expression, but I see his lips twitch, and I want to scream in victory. Cillian is covering his smile with a fake cough.

“Ninety-nine million,” she calls. “Give or take a few numbers.”

“Good, I’ll take them all,” I tell her with a grin and look back at the manager. “Make it happen.”

“I don’t think—” He sputters, and I narrow my eyes.

“No, clearly not,” I finish for him, watching him turn even redder in embarrassment. I stroll over to the champagne and tip a glass back before shoving an hors d’oeuvres into my mouth and feigning gagging. “Fuck, this shit is nasty.” I look at Astro, who’s moved closer. “Have you ever tried overpriced fancy food?”

He shakes his head, and I shove it into his mouth.

He stills but chews slowly, wincing thoughtfully. “It’s rank,” he comments when he swallows.

Turning to the manager who is just gaping, I snap my fingers. “I don’t have all day. I’m a very busy woman. Do I need to call your daddy or husband to get the work done?” His mouth snaps shut. “No? Then get me my fucking paperwork and cars.”

“I—” He tugs on his suit as I take another sip of champagne and wait for him impatiently, but he just continues to stutter.

“I want all the commission to go to her.” I point and then narrow my eyes. “Understood?”

He flounders and flushes as I turn away once more and slide into the nearest car, stroking the steering wheel as I grin at Dal. “How do I look?” I strike a pose.

“Magnificent,” he murmurs, and I flush under the compliment, even as I wink at him in thanks.

“Want to fuck on the hood?” I tease, watching his eyes flare. Why is teasing them my new favorite pastime?

“Miss Harrow?” another sales associate says nervously. The young man treads closer, shooting Dal a worried glance. “Could I have an autograph?”

“Sure.” I slide from the car and take the paper he hands over. “Who else wants an autograph while I wait?”

It seems like everyone does, and while fuck nut works on the cars with the female who I learned is named Amy, I sign autographs and smile for photos, laughing and joking with his staff while he glares at me. I purposely leave litter around the place and squish some fancy food under my heel, watching him almost have a heart attack.

“Clean that, won’t you?” I tell him as I pass and sit at Amy’s desk, crossing my legs on top of it. She simply smiles at me nervously, but it’s clear she’s loving this. I grin wider at that. She’s cute, with short, bobbed blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, a stern face, and a beautiful smile. She’s clearly young and trying to work her way up in this job, and she deserves the commission for putting up with the meat sack currently picking up my fallen food with a pinkie finger.

“Um, where would you like the cars delivered?” Amy asks.

“Those three to my house.” I point them out. “The others will be placed at these locations as giveaways.” I quickly scribble them down. “Here’s my manager’s number. Organize the deliveries with him.”

“Of course.” She quickly types and then glances up at me. “That was amazing, by the way.”

“Why, thank you. What can I say? I can’t stand stuffy assholes—oh, speak of the devil.”

He stops at our side, his face flushed with anger. “And how will you be paying, Miss Harrow?” he asks, his arms crossed.

“I could do cash if you like, but here.” I toss the black card at him. “And grab yourself a better fitting suit while you’re at it. There’s enough on there to cover it.”

His nostrils flare, and I ignore him, leaning back to grin upside down at Raffiel.

He stares the man down, his eyes hard. He’s a weapon, and right now, he looks like he’s ready to strike. “Is there a problem here?” he demands, his voice low and deadly. “Do we need to step into your office and have a word?”

Aww, I might melt a little at him trying to protect me, but I pat his chest. “I’ve got this, hot stuff. Why don’t you go lean against a car for me and take your shirt off for my new wallpaper?”

He raises his eyebrow at me. “Miss Harrow.” He sounds both resigned and amused, and I love it.

“No? Fine, keep the shirt.” I look at Astro. “Hottie, you’ll do it for me, won’t you?” I purr.

“Astro, if you take your shirt off, I will use it to strangle you,” Raffiel snaps without looking away. Leaning down, he gets in my face. “Now behave, Miss Harrow, please.” It’s almost ground out.

“Why? Worried you’ll snap?” I purr, scraping my nails down his chest.

He shudders, his nostrils flaring. It’s heady to see his reaction to me. “If you do not behave, Miss Harrow, I am within my rights to . . . punish you.”

“Well, don’t you threaten me with a good time.” I turn in my seat. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he breathes slowly as if looking for the patience to deal with me. “But I’m far too busy torturing tiny dick here, so I’ll get back to you later and we can discuss the types of punishments you are into.”

I hear him groan as I look away, and I don’t hide my grin even as Amy ducks her head, giggling but blushing. “I will just need your signature. I can handle anything else with your manager, Miss Harrow,” she says, pushing some papers across.

I quickly scribble my name and date it, and she scans through it with a nod before quickly and efficiently typing in something and then handing my card back.

“Everything else will be taken care of. Delivery will be as soon as possible, and as an apology for the horrible treatment you have received in this store, I have okayed some apology presents that will arrive with them.”

“You did what?” the dick manager roars.

She ignores him, folding her hands demurely on her desk and smiling at me. “Directly from the head office.” The manager blanches, and she shoots him a dirty look. “I’m sure your phone will be ringing soon, sir.”

Laughing, I get to my feet. “I like you. Make sure you get that commission, Amy, or call me and I will.” I put my card away, and with a wave at the other associates, I start heading to the door while the manager scrambles after me like a bad smell.

I stop before him, straightening his crooked tie for him. “Maybe next time, you shouldn’t assume anything. You clearly aren’t good at it. Oh, and if you want, you can call me Daddy now since it was my money.” I pat his ruddy cheek, slip on my shades, and head back outside, smiling and waving at the cameras.

I pose and wave and sign the autograph pages that are thrust at me. My new guards converge around me, keeping the crowd back as I slowly make my way to the car, trying to sign as many as I can.

When I reach the car, though, I hear a disappointed voice and quickly turn, scanning the crowd of men and women to see a small, teenage girl huddled at the back, trying to get through to me. One of my first ever albums is clutched in her grip, and her hopeful expression drops.

Ignoring Raffiel, I step around the open door and toward the crowd, fighting my way through.

“Move!” Raffiel barks, and I hear him pushing his way through behind me. When I glance back, I see he’s created a barrier with the others between them and me so I can stand alone with the girl.

“Hi,” I say. “Did you want that signed? I’m sorry I didn’t see you at the back.”

Her mouth opens and closes as she stares at me, clutching the CD so hard. I gently pry it from her grip. “What’s your name?” I ask softly.

“I—” She clears her throat nervously as cameras flash, so I move closer to block them. “Dily, my name is Dily.”

I scribble her name and a message with my signature and notice her necklace. It’s a microphone. “Are you a singer?”

“One day, I hope.” She finally seems to come to and smiles at me. It’s so bright and beautiful, I can’t help but return it. There is power in that smile, magnetism, and I have no doubt she will get everything she wants. “I hope to be as good as you. You are my inspiration, my role model.”

“I haven’t been a very good one recently,” I admit quietly.

She shakes her head. “I love you more now. You looked so sad before, not like when you first started. You connected with the music, you know? It was in everything you did. I think you just got a little lost along the way.”

“You are completely right,” I reply, eyeing this girl who sees into my heart when even my own friends and fiancé couldn’t. “But I think I found my way back.”

“Good.” She grins, looking at the CD. “Thank you so much. I will treasure this forever.”

I pluck a card from my bag. “Here. When you’re ready to be a singer, as long as you can get used to this madness”—I gesture around us—“call me. I’ll help in any way I can.”

Her mouth drops open again, and she flings herself at me, laughing. I squeeze her back, ignoring the shouts and questions. She pulls away, embarrassed, and I see tears in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re back and that you’re happy again.”

“I’m getting there,” I tell her honestly as I slide my glasses back up. “Keep working at it, and I’ll see you when you’re ready,” I promise as Raffiel approaches me.

“Time to go. The crowd is getting restless.” Nodding, I let him escort me through the surging people. At the car, I wave at Dily. “Don’t forget to rock it, kid!” I yell as I duck inside and sit in the back seat, smiling at her through the window. She stares down at the card and CD as if I gave her a lifeline. I know that feeling. I’ve been there before, and I had my own helping hand. It makes me feel like I’m finally doing something right and making a difference in the music world. It needs people like her who are honest, true, and strong.

Dal and Cillian sit before me, and Raffiel and Astro take the front. “What?” I ask as they all look at me.

“You are not what I expected,” Dal comments carefully.

“No? What were you expecting?” I scoff, stiffening in my seat. I expect an insult and for them to be like everyone else, but when he smiles, it’s a slow, bright smile that steals the air from my lungs. It transforms his entire face until I’m entranced, unable to breathe in the face of such beauty.

“Trouble.”

It breaks the spell, and a rare but real laugh slips free. “Oh, I’m definitely that. You have no idea.” I glance back out of the window to see the manager at the door to the dealership, watching us go, and I laugh harder. “None at all.”