Twenty-something years of being called difficult, and I've never once tried to change it. I'm cold. Harsh. The kind of winter that makes you question why you left the house. I'm hard to handle—misbehaving is basically my default setting, and I'm overstimulated by existence most days. And I see you looking at me like I'm something pretty. Let me stop you right there. It's a trap. Don't fall for it. I get things done. I know how to make people do what I want. Men, women, doesn't matter. They fall in line. I'm demanding, I'm authoritative, and I don't apologize for any of it. So if you're looking for someone easy? Keep walking. If you're brave enough to deal with me? Your choice. Don't say I didn't warn you.