“You need another business? You tired of owning your basketball team already?” “I only own part of the team.” “Which part?” she asked. “I know which part I’d like to own.” McQueen laughed. “Tell me something, Miss Paris – what do you own?” Now it was her turn to spin on her bar stool, ninety degrees, and she met him face on with full eye contact, fearless and shameless. “I could own you by morning.”
