A couple of weeks later, Calum stepped into the boardroom and took his seat on Zane’s left. Laurella hadn’t sat there, apart from that very first meeting. He wasn’t sure whether it was out of a growing respect for him professionally—even if she couldn’t stand him personally—or because she couldn’t be bothered with the ensuing argument. He didn’t care either way. He still chalked this up as a minor victory. Yeah, he was that much of a dick, as those who knew him well would testify.

Since their last sparring match—which he begrudgingly conceded she’d won—on the night he’d taken her memory book, he’d found his mind turning to the fiery Italian more and more. Lesser women would have buckled under the pressure of what he’d put her through, but Laurella seemed to thrive on the conflict he had purposely created. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he was falling more and more under her spell as the weeks went by, and despite his cruel and unusual punishment in Chicago, they’d begun to rub along without too much bickering.

Calum watched the door every time it opened, a flutter of excitement ending in disappointment when the person who entered wasn’t her. When she finally walked into the boardroom, he got a full-on punch in the gut. She was wearing a soft gray silk dress that clung to every single curve. It rose high on the neck and fell well below the knee. She’d topped it off with a pair of black patent-leather high heels that made her calves as slender as a thoroughbred horse. Her trusty notebook was clutched in her left hand, the Montblanc pen attached to the back cover.

Calum had always been more attracted to obvious women. He’d never subscribed to the argument that it was better to keep the goods hidden. He preferred to see what he was getting to make sure it was worth the effort. But Laurella’s classy style made him question his preferences. He liked the fact she kept her assets hidden, that her boobs weren’t constantly spilling over the top of a dress cut too low. Maybe her classiness came from her Mediterranean roots. Weren’t Italians known for their style and fashion sense?

She caught him checking her out, and a soft smile inched across her lips. She pulled out the seat directly opposite and smoothed her hands under her dress before sitting. Her gaze moved to his. Pleasure rushed through him as those dark-chocolate eyes almost stripped him bare.

“Okay, shall we start?” Zane said, oblivious to the fact that his sales director was surreptitiously trying to rearrange his junk under the table.

They followed their usual agenda. Calum barely paid attention. He’d already been through the deck. But when it was Laurella’s turn to speak, he sat up in his chair, his eyes refocusing, his ears on full alert.

And that was when World War III broke out.

It all started so well. Two of the contacts from the conference had come through and had told her they intended to place large orders. It remained to be seen whether their promises turned into hard cash, but the fact they’d called her, without her having to chase, was a positive sign. She went through a campaign she’d designed, alongside the new branding the board had signed off on the previous week. It looked good—a real step in the right direction.

“There is one more thing,” she said, her gaze falling on his. She seemed almost apologetic. “I don’t think you’re going to be happy, Calum. But please, hear me out.”

His skin prickled, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t like the sound of this already—and she hadn’t told him what was going on yet.

“Let’s hear it, then,” he said, giving her a tight smile.

“I think we should remove the exclusivity from the raspberry gin you gave to Haltons when the contract comes up for renewal next week.”

He straightened in his chair. Haltons was one of their big clients. Rob Halton owned a string of cocktail bars across the US. He purchased in huge quantities, albeit at a very preferential discounted rate. But still…

“And why would we do that?” His tone might have been bland, but his stare was cool.

She got the message loud and clear, squirming under his intense scrutiny. She’d avoided coming to him with this because she knew he’d be pissed, choosing instead to share it at the weekly board meeting, where she knew he’d be more likely to temper his reaction. When would the damned woman learn?

“I’ve been warming up a couple of potential clients. They like the product. I get the feeling they’d place huge recurring orders and at a better price than Haltons currently enjoys.”

“You have a ‘feeling’?” Calum said, using air quotes to press his point home. “Come back when your feelings are facts, sweetheart.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line, and she glared at him across the table. “I didn’t say I had a feeling, I said I get the feeling. Please don’t twist my words, Calum.”

“Sounds the same to me,” he snapped.

“Well, it would to you. Because you don’t damn well listen.”

Calum rose to his feet and slammed his fist on the table. Everyone jumped—except her. He leaned menacingly forward, rage burning through his veins. “When you stop pissing all over my territory, I might start to listen a bit more. Your job is to find the leads. My job is to talk to potential clients.”

She folded her arms. “Pissing on your territory? I suppose an analogy to a dog suits you perfectly.”

“Now, now, children,” Zane said, his eyes crinkling as he grinned. “As much as I love the Laurella-and-Calum show that has turned into a regular feature at these board meetings, let’s keep it friendly.”

Their chief financial officer sniggered, while their IT director looked out the window, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

“Perhaps if you’d talked to me about this first before bringing it up in front of everyone, we could have had a sensible chat. When will you learn, Laurella?”

Her eyes flashed with defiance. “Learn?” She snorted. “I doubt there’s much to learn from you, unless annoying the hell of out of people ever becomes useful in the world of business.”

“I see my control over this boardroom is rocking it today,” Zane said, using his usual relaxed style in an attempt to keep things calm. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You two”—he poked his finger at each of them in turn—“are going to make a decision on the right approach. Only when you’re both in agreement will I listen to any more of this.”

“Zane—”

“But—”

Zane’s hand shot into the air. “I don’t want to hear another word. I suggest you both take this discussion off the premises. Go for a drink, a meal, somewhere neutral where killing one another would have too many witnesses for either of you to get away with it.”

The CFO gave another snigger. Calum shot him a glare, but all that did was make the man’s grin wider.

Laurella let out a resigned sigh and got to her feet. “I have some things to do, but I could make myself free in an hour.” She looked over at Calum, her eyes hard, a stark contrast to the way they’d stroked him at the start of the meeting. “If you can?”

“No, I can’t. But I’m free tonight,” he said, surprising himself as much as her. Even though they’d had yet another falling-out, he didn’t want a rushed lunch before they both had meetings to get to. He wanted to take his time, to spar at length. Because if his rock-hard cock told him anything, it was that sparring with Laurella turned him on more than any other woman had ever managed.

Laurella’s forehead wrinkled. Then she nodded curtly. “Fine. Let me know when and where.” With a smile for the other board members and a scowl for him, she picked up her notebook and pen and left the room.

When Calum went to follow, Zane stopped him. “Thanks, folks,” he said to the rest of the team. Chairs scraped backward as one by one the other board members left the room. Once they were alone, Zane pointed to a chair. “Sit down.”

Calum reluctantly obeyed. “Whatever you’re about to say, save it.” He leaned back and laced his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. “We’ve been getting along better recently. After the Ben Davies debacle, she agreed she’d talk to me about this kind of shit first.” He made eye contact with Zane. “And then she goes and does this. The woman infuriates me more than any other person I’ve ever met.”

Zane thoughtfully tapped his forefinger against his lips. “You want her,” he stated bluntly. “Your arguments suggest intense sexual frustration rather than a mere disagreement about the way each of you does business. And if her responses are anything to go by, I’d say the attraction is mutual.”

Calum chewed on his bottom lip. He and Zane had always been completely honest with each other. He wasn’t about to start lying to his best friend now.

“You’re right. I do want her. Although more often than not, I’d like to put her across my knee and give her a good, hard spanking.”

“Same outcome.” Zane laughed. “Look, what you get up to in your own time is your business, but you two have got to work this out. I don’t care whether that’s done in the boardroom or the bedroom. You’re both fantastic assets to Necron, and if I could just get you to work together, I think we’d have world domination in our sights.”

Calum expelled a breath. “I can’t even say it’s all me. Honestly, that woman gives as good as she gets.”

Zane chuckled. “I know. Like I said, we all get the show at the weekly board meeting.”

Calum’s lips twitched. “Good thing my boss is so laid-back he’s horizontal.”

“He’s also your best friend who wouldn’t want you any other way. Your forthright persona is what makes you, you. If you’re going to stab someone, it sure as hell won’t be in the back. They’ll see that blade coming from a mile off.”

“True enough.” Calum rose from his chair. “Wish me luck tonight.”

Zane grinned and gestured with a flick of his wrist. “Get out of here.”

Calum unfastened the button on his single-breasted jacket and straightened his tie. He’d considered going casual, but as his strategy that evening was going to be all business, the sensible choice was a suit and tie. He had made one decision, though: the time had come for them to work through their shit once and for all. And that meant he had to start behaving like an actual human being.

Blessed with a sixth sense that had only awoken since Laurella had started working at Necron, Calum lifted his head at the precise moment she entered the restaurant. He watched her speak to the host, who nodded, helped her remove her coat, and handed it off to another employee. She’d also gone for formal wear, but as with everything Laurella wore, she did it with style.

The host indicated for her to follow him, and they began to make their way over. Calum got to his feet, seating himself again once Laurella had taken her chair. He gestured to the waiter.

“I took the liberty of ordering wine, but did you want anything else?” he asked Laurella.

“Some still water, please,” she said.

“Certainly, madam.” The waiter gave a brief nod before retreating.

“I wasn’t sure you’d turn up,” she said.

He tapped a finger against his bottom lip. “You really do have a low opinion of me, don’t you?”

She forced a smile. “It’s been well-earned.”

“Ouch.” He grinned. “I guess I deserved that.”

She licked her lips as if her mouth was dry. He moved his gaze south. She really did have the most wonderful full lips. Kissable lips. He shook his head of those thoughts. They’d only lead to trouble.

“I don’t understand you at all,” she said, scrutinizing his face. “One minute, you’re the epitome of charm. The next, you’re like a venomous snake ready to sink your fangs into me. It’s like you have a split personality.”

“You have fangs of your own, Laurella,” he said, ignoring her insult.

“Mine are only used for self-protection.”

He paused as their server came across with her water and the wine. Calum shook his head at the offer to taste it then leaned back in his chair until their glasses had been filled. When they were alone once more, he bent forward, his forearms resting on the table.

“I’m not sure that’s true. Yes, I’m a complicated man, but you’re a complicated woman. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ll admit at least partial responsibility for our constant arguments. Take today, for example. You should have come to me first before sharing your ideas in front of the whole board. I don’t know how things worked in Italy, but here in America, you don’t embarrass your colleagues in front of their peers and their boss without giving them the courtesy of telling them what you’re planning to do.”

Her eyes slid away from his, and she nibbled on her lower lip. “You work so differently from the way I did at my last company. There, all ideas were welcome. We just wanted Spirito to succeed.”

He drummed his fingers on the table to attract her attention. When she finally lifted her chin, he said, “It’s the same here. Of course your ideas are welcome, Laurella. You’re really creative, and I have no doubt you’ll push Necron forward, but you’ve gone from working in a much larger company to a significantly smaller one. You can’t apply the same rules. They simply won’t work. All you’ll do is piss people off. Small companies are like families in a way. They’re extremely close-knit. They fight, they argue, but they also pull together toward a common goal. I don’t want to crush your creativity, your flair, your spirit. But for God’s sake, woman, fucking talk to me.”

Her eyebrows shot up at his outburst. “You’ve basically described an Italian family. We fight and argue all the time, but we’d also die for one another.”

“Then you shouldn’t have too much trouble adapting, should you? Although I draw the line at dying. It’s only work.” He grinned. “Seriously, though, I owe it to Zane to find a way for us to get along.”

She offered him a faint smile, picked up her wineglass, and held it toward him. “That sounds remarkably like you’re offering me a more permanent truce. A real truce this time.”

Calum lifted his own glass and touched it briefly to hers. “I am.”

She sipped her drink, those melted-dark-chocolate irises studying his face. Eventually, she let out a resigned sigh. ”I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of fighting. I just want Necron to succeed.”

“Sounds like we both want the same thing.”

“Indeed,” she murmured, although the way she was looking at him made him wonder if they were still talking about Necron’s success.

“Let’s order,” Calum suggested, as much to distract himself from drowning in her eyes as from a desire to eat. He perused the menu. “What would you like?”

“You order for me.”

He nodded, still keeping his gaze averted. He needed a couple more moments to gather himself. Now that they’d gotten the thorny issue of their working relationship out of the way—at least for the night—this felt much more like a date.

“Anything to avoid?” he asked.

“No. I’ll eat most things.”

His abdomen clenched at the way she’d said ‘eat.’ He glanced up. The look in her eyes scorched him, and his pulse thrummed. She circled her middle finger around her wineglass before dipping it inside. With her finger covered in wine, she inserted it into her mouth and sucked.

Fuck. His insides did a triple fucking salchow, and his cock hardened. “Are you flirting with me?”

The briefest of smiles touched her lips. “I’m not going to embarrass myself by lying. You already know I’m attracted to you. But given the appalling way you have behaved toward me, the fact remains that I’m still not sure how much I like you. You said and did some very hurtful things in Chicago. I can’t simply push them aside as though they don’t matter, because they do.”

A hot flush crept across his cheeks. Jesus. He never blushed, never got embarrassed or felt the need to apologize for his behavior, yet with that dressing down, he could have been back in high school, standing outside the principal’s office, awaiting punishment for picking on someone half his size.

“Well, fuck,” he said, a tight ache spreading through his chest.

“Your actions have consequences, Calum, and not everyone has the hide of a rhinoceros. Not even me, despite your beliefs to the contrary.”

“You’ve made your point,” he muttered. “If it means anything, it didn’t feel good… what I did in Chicago. You pissed me off, and I retaliated. It was cruel, not clever, and I shouldn’t have done it. The professional thing to do would have been to speak to you about the email. I’m sorry.”

Whoa, where did that come from?

Laurella must have been as surprised as he was by the confession and subsequent apology, because her eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline, widening her eyes. “I didn’t expect that, but I appreciate it. And I accept your apology.”

“Don’t worry. It won’t become a habit,” Calum said, teasing.

Laurella smiled. “Shall we move on? Put it all behind us?”

He nodded. “Let’s. I’m not exactly in my comfort zone here.”

She tugged on her bottom lip, drawing his attention. He wanted to do that—with his teeth.

“Hmm. Then maybe I’ll make you grovel a little longer.”

He dragged his gaze away from her mouth. “Too late, sweetheart. Show’s over.”

“In that case, you might as well feed me. I’m ravenous.”

The way she said ravenous—a replica of eat earlier—gave the impression she wasn’t only referring to food. He swallowed hard and gestured to their server, who came scurrying over.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Laurella, Calum barked out their order. “Two New York strips. Rare. Peppercorn sauce. Dauphinoise potatoes. Asparagus. Another bottle of wine, and the check.”

He held out the menus. The waiter tucked them under his arm. He furiously scribbled down the order then dashed away.

“Someone’s in a hurry. What if I want dessert?” Laurella said.

Time to test the waters. “You’ll get dessert.”

She blinked slowly. “What if I only want a sample?”

He repressed a triumphant grin. “Then I’ll have to make sure it’s tasty enough for you to want to try the full-sized portion.”

She giggled, a girlish sound that took years off her. She might only be thirty, but sometimes she acted much older, as though life had kicked her in the teeth one too many times, making her defensive and cautious.

“If it’s anything like the first sample, I might be inclined to take a bite,” she said, obviously referring to their kiss in Chicago.

“Oh, I can guarantee it’ll be better than that.”

Her teeth grazed her bottom lip, and she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. Holy shit. Flirty Laurella was sexy as fuck.

“How so?” she asked.

He stroked his beard. “Because this time, I’ll mean it.”

Another flash of hurt crossed her face. He winced. She might have agreed to leave it all behind them and accept his apology, but feelings cut deep, and he’d drawn blood. It would take a while for the wound to heal.

“How will I know?” she asked bluntly.

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. Lifting it to his mouth, he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Believe me, you’ll know.”

She shivered, and his pulse raced so fast that when their food arrived, he found he could barely get it down. Every mouthful seemed to take forever to swallow, and he drank more wine than he should have, trying to force the food past his dry throat. Laurella fared little better, toying with her steak, pushing it around the plate with her fork.

When they’d both eaten enough to avoid the waiter asking if there was something wrong with their meal, Calum tossed some money on the table, waving away Laurella’s offer to pay her half. “I’ll put it on expenses. It was Zane’s idea we come out to dinner, so he can pay.”

Outside the restaurant, Calum captured her hand in his. When she didn’t pull away, a thrill rushed through him.

“Shall we walk?” Laurella asked “I only live a few blocks away, and it’s quite mild.”

Calum nodded. “Spring’s finally on the way.”

“Thank goodness. It gets much colder here than in Milan. Even though I spent my college years in Boston, I’ve never enjoyed the cold that much.”

“I can’t say I mind it, although summer in New York is a great time of year. Too hot for some, but I like it that way.”

“I’m looking forward to it, especially now that I don’t have to leave my job because of the annoying sales director.”

Her sassy grin quickened his breath. He nudged his shoulder against hers, thrilled at this surprising turn in their relationship—one he certainly hadn’t anticipated. “Yeah. He’s a real asshole.”

“Stronzo,” she said, outright laughing now.

He drew to a stop and threaded his hands into her soft, silky hair. He paused, giving her the chance to move back or to tell him to get his hands off of her. She did neither.

He tilted her head backward. “I know it’s supposed to be an insult, but said in your beautiful accent, it makes my cock hard.”

Despite the street being full of people, as they stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, they could have been completely alone. Even when jostled, neither of them moved from their spot. And then slowly, so slowly, Calum lowered his head.

The second their lips touched, Laurella wound her arms around his neck. He deepened the kiss, unconcerned by the fact they were in the middle of Fifth Avenue. This was New York. No one cared what anyone else was up to. A kiss, even one as passionate as this, would barely catch a glance from passersby.

A soft moan broke from her throat, and she pressed herself closer to him. Her arms dropped from around his neck, and she buried them inside his coat, beneath his jacket. The warmth from her palms soaked through his shirt as her hands roved over his back.

And then, without warning, she tore herself away. She stepped back once, then twice. Her chest rose and fell in time with his.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, concerned.

She blinked slowly. “If I taste any more of the sample, I’m going to want to eat the whole pie, except I’m worried it will give me indigestion.”

Calum chuckled, even though the pain from his erection straining against his zipper wasn’t remotely funny. “As much as I’m loving these food analogies, I need to translate to make sure I’ve understood. Can I?”

She nodded.

“Okay, so you liked kissing me, and you want to take it further, but you think it might be too soon, especially as just a few hours ago, we were close to killing each other. And after what I did to you in Chicago, you’re not sure you can trust me, despite my earlier apology.”

She breathed in then grimaced. “That’s about it.”

He cupped his hands around her face and pecked her softly on the lips. Slipping his arm around her waist, he began to walk. “Let me take you home.” She stiffened, and he gave her a squeeze. “I heard you. Loud and clear.”

“And you’re not mad?”

The uncertainty in her tone annoyed the hell out of him. His irritation wasn’t aimed at her but at what her anxiety signaled. He stopped again, forcing her to do the same. “I know there are men out there who believe no means yes. I’m not one of them. I like my women willing and agreeable.”

She blushed, and he found it fucking adorable.

“Thank you,” she said. “I think there’s a good person hidden in there somewhere, despite your determination to show the world the complete opposite.”

Calum gave her a wolfish grin. “Who are you, and what have you done with Laurella Ricci?”

She dug him in the ribs with her elbow, and he fake groaned.

“I could say the same about you,” she said.

They walked the rest of the way in a companionable silence, his arm around her waist, hers around his. Too soon for his liking, they arrived at her apartment building.

“Well, this is me.” She looked up at him. The light from the street lamps cast her face half in shadow.

“Want me to see you up?” he asked.

“No, I’m good.”

You got that right, sweetheart.

“We didn’t talk about the proposal.”

“No, we didn’t,” she said, pinning him in place with those soulful eyes. “What do you think we should do, Calum?”

“I think we should meet in your office in the morning and come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

Her mouth creased in thought. “Does such a thing exist?”

He gathered her in his arms. Already, it felt as though she belonged there. “Believe me, Ricci, I can make it worth your while.”

Her lips twitched. “I drive a hard bargain.”

He circled his hips. “So do I.”

She grinned. “Then bring your A game, Brook, and we’ll see who turns out to be the winner.”

Calum bent his head until his lips were an inch from hers. “I have a funny feeling we’ll both win,” he said before he pressed his lips to hers.