CHAPTER FOUR
Monday, November 6
“Morning. I brought donuts.” Sebastian tosses a box of a dozen on the conference table in my office and parks himself in a chair. “Dig in, and let’s roll through these numbers.”
It’s just after seven a.m. I came in early. I often do because there’s always plenty of work. But today was a no-brainer. Why stay home when sleep is elusive and productivity is nonexistent?
The reason for my restlessness will be here in less than an hour. Nia and I haven’t spoken since Saturday night. I’m torn. On the one hand, I must maintain status quo at the office. There’s too much happening with Stratus for us to lose focus. On the other hand, I spent yesterday missing her in a way I don’t understand. My thoughts are jumbled. I have urges where she’s concerned.
I don’t like this. I’m never conflicted. Why is everything different?
With Becca, I never felt this sort of internal chaos. She liked me; I liked her. We bonded because we had both suffered through terrible home lives and crappy foster families. Diana saved me at twelve, but I plucked Becca out of her living hell as soon as I legally could. She was grateful and took care of everything not related to my burgeoning business. I enjoyed her company. Sex was nice. Life was good.
Nothing about being inside Nia could be termed nice. What we did wasn’t merely pleasant. It was raw, compelling, unforgettable…
And confusing as hell.
Yesterday, I resisted comparisons, but Becca is the only other sexual partner I’ve had. Isn’t it natural to wonder why being with one woman is vastly different than performing roughly the same act with another? The only conclusion I can draw is that Becca had been providing me regular relief with her hand before we spoke our vows. Nia ended a terrible months-long celibacy, broken only by masturbation that had become both regular and dull. I was simply pent up. Surely if I had sex with her today, I wouldn’t feel that same blood-churning, heart-pounding, gotta-have-it-now urgency.
“Evan?”
I whirl around and face my CFO, trying to look as if I’ve been completely attentive. “Yeah. The numbers. Let’s do it.”
“I already was. You didn’t hear a word I said.” He sighs. “It’s none of my business, but what happened between you and Nia after I left on Saturday night?”
“You’re right; it’s none of your business.”
Bas is my oldest friend. I couldn’t lie to him if I tried. First, he reads me too well. Second, I won’t deceive him. But I have no problem telling him to butt out.
“Oh, my god. You fucked her.”
I remain absolutely mute for a long moment, gritting my teeth. I can’t tell whether he’s more shocked that I finally took his advice about moving on from Becca or that I did it with my assistant.
“Friday’s offer was an increase of fifteen million cash and another thirty in Colossus stock options when their IPO goes public next summer.” I change the subject. “It’s more lucrative than their former offer and closer to market value.”
“Not going to talk to me, huh?”
“About Nia? No. About this offer, sure. All day long. My big complaint is that we can’t possibly know the price of their stock once the IPO goes public. So the valuation of the offer could suffer significantly following the initial offering.”
“You don’t believe that. Douglas Lund has almost tripled the size of their organization since he took over five years ago. The man is financially brilliant, and there’s no way he would suddenly steer that ship in the wrong direction. My guess is the value of that stock will go up at least another twenty-five percent in the first six months.”
Bas is probably right but… “If it doesn’t?”
“You’re still walking away with almost five hundred million in cash and other stocks that bring the value of the deal up to a billion dollars. All you have to do is sign a few papers and stay on as COO for two years. Then you’ll be thirty and filthy rich, and you can spend the rest of your life doing whatever the fuck you want. Take it.”
Everything he says is valid. I’ve had similar thoughts. All totaled, it’s the sort of money that means not only would I never have to work another day in my life, but neither will my kids, my grandkids, or their children. I would, of course. I’ve never been an idle man, and I don’t like people who lack goals or fail to embrace challenges. So I’ll definitely find another business to build and succeed at—and I’ll have the luxury of taking my time. Most people only dream of this financial independence. I certainly never fathomed having this much money as a poor kid in foster care. And I’d not only achieve my dream of making a billion by age forty, I’d beat it by a decade.
“Unfortunately, the deal, as is, still isn’t right.”
He gives me an exasperated sigh. “What’s your hesitation? Is it because you built Stratus from the ground up? Hell, I joined you barely three months after you started, so I’m as attached to it as you are. If I were a selfish bastard, I’d talk you out of accepting the deal because I’ll probably be downsized once the Colossus people take over. But I’m okay with that because this is best for you. I know you’re sentimentally attached—”
“I’m not a sentimental man.”
“Not about much. I understand why this might seem different, but saying yes is the right move. You’re never going to get another offer like this, buddy.”
“I disagree.”
“You think your technology will remain wave-of-the-future long enough that another behemoth firm will decide you have the best data storage solution for individuals and corporations alike and be willing to pay you an obscene amount of money for your infrastructure and proprietary technology?”
“I don’t think there will be another buyer; you’re right about that. I’m saying if I take this particular offer, I’ll be leaving money on the table.”
“Oh, I get it. You want to make Lund bleed because you loathe him. Be careful with that…”
Admittedly, he’s an egotistical, middle-aged prick who treated me like a snot-nosed kid when we first met. Since then, he’s continued the trend, all but patting me on the head and rubbing me the wrong way. I don’t mind sticking it to him, but I wouldn’t do it if I thought I’d be screwing myself in the process.
“I’ve done business with people I disliked in the past. I’m not here to make friends; I’m here to negotiate the best deal possible. But as you just pointed out, if I sell, you might be laid off. Any of Stratus’s existing employees are at risk.” I employ nearly seven hundred people now. “They deserve whatever protection I can negotiate to compensate them for their years of loyalty and hard work.”
Bas gapes at me. “Wanting more money out of the deal, I understand. You may be right that Lund can cough up more. But you can’t possibly be willing to blow a billion dollars to coddle your existing workers. C’mon.”
“I’m not,” I assure. “But if I can ensure their futures for a bit longer—and yeah, stick it to Lund—I will.”
“Just don’t worry too hard. Everyone who works for you is smart. They understand the corporate game. If they’re unhappy or they see the writing on the wall after the sale, they’ll start looking for other jobs. Negotiate whatever terms you can, say adios, then laugh all the way to the bank.”
“Don’t be an ass, Shaw.” Nia strolls in, wearing a figure-hugging dress in a teal shade that makes my breath catch, beige heels, and a smile.
Holy shit. After one glance, I’m beyond eager to peel every stitch off her, toss her onto the table, and shove my way between her legs.
So much for my theory about being sated and disinterested.
She looks different this morning than she did on Saturday night—without the inch of black eyeliner, false lashes, stark red lips, and all the glitter. Today, her makeup is subtle. Browns accentuate her eyes. Her cheeks have a hint of a flush. The lights in the room catch the soft glow of her lustrous skin. Her lips are a sheer berry shade that makes me desperate to kiss them.
How did I look at her for three fucking years and see an assistant, not a woman? A lover? No idea. I only know I can’t do it anymore.
Bas flashes Nia a huge smile. “Wright, you know that’s part of my charm.”
They’ve been on a last-name basis in the office forever. They’re usually friendly. Today, I don’t like the speculative way Bas eyes her.
“Ha! What charm?” She raises a brow at him. “Think about this from the employees’ point of view. Take Perkins, who’s been counting the days until his retirement in three years. He’s going to rely on that pension. What happens if Evan sells out and Colossus changes the benefits structure? Will he still be able to spend his golden years in the Outer Banks fishing or will he eventually have to go back to work? And what happens to the employees on tuition assistance? The ones who rely on our health plan? Hell, what happens to the workers they lay off? Will all of them find new jobs they like half as well? Will any of them?”
And what about Nia herself? I’m her first employer out of college. She’s scarcely worked for anyone but me. What if she ends up assisting someone who doesn’t treat her with respect? Or what if she finds herself working for another executive who’s attracted to her, he touches her, and they…
Fuck.
Unacceptable. If I sell, I’m taking her with me. Well, provided she’ll follow. Right now, I don’t know. She hasn’t acknowledged me since she entered the room. Is she going to act like I wasn’t inside her, as deep as a man can get, less than thirty-six hours ago?
“Good morning, Nia.”
“Morning,” she says absently as she sets her purse and coffee cup on the table, then slides into the chair between Bas and me.
That’s it? Is she going to look at me at all? “Do you have specific suggestions?”
“To protect the employees? Make Colossus honor your benefits for three years. Tell them they can’t lay off anyone for eighteen months. Force them to provide education assistance and placement services for any Stratus employees they release. You know the drill.”
“It’s a stop-gap measure. Nothing will protect them indefinitely after I’m gone.” I don’t know why I’m playing devil’s advocate with her when I agree those are concessions worth obtaining. Am I that desperate to make her talk to me?
“Nothing ever will,” she argues. “But if you’re actually serious about selling…”
“You think I shouldn’t?”
“Saying no would be stupid,” Bas cuts in. “He’s young and connected enough to build another business. Or he could just kick back. Take up philanthropy. Buy his own tropical island. Whatever he wants.”
It’s hard to argue with his logic. If I were in his shoes advising me about this buyout, I’d probably tell me to negotiate those last few terms and dollars I want, then take the deal.
“No one will care about this business the way Evan will. And I think he’ll regret selling.” She shrugs as if it’s obvious. “His heart is with Stratus.”
I scowl. “Hearts don’t belong in business.”
She purses her lips together, disappointment tightening her face as she looks over at Bas. “Pass the donuts, Shaw.”
Dutifully, Bas does, along with a stack of paper napkins. She opens the box and pulls out a Boston cream, then lifts it to her mouth. When her lips envelop the chocolate-covered, cream-filled concoction, she bites down with a long, low moan. I get hard instantly. Suddenly, I can’t help remembering her groans and whimpers when she dug her nails into my back while I stroked inside her.
This train of thought isn’t helping our discussion. Or my mood. Something angry overtakes me with every passing moment she acts like nothing at all happened between us.
“I’ll take one,” I say to her—not because I actually want a donut, but simply because I need her to look at me.
She hesitates, then gives the box a shove, sliding it across the table. Finally, she lifts her lashes and glances my way. Our eyes meet.
Instant zing.
“It’s nice that you want to ask for protections for the employees, but I should advise you that it’s a risk,” Bas points out. “Lund is a hard-ass. Going in with demands might piss him off.”
“I don’t think so. He’s already proven he wants Stratus. If he’s come back to the table repeatedly and he’s given me an offer this close to market value, then something simple like assurances for the workers won’t chase him away, especially since he needs the know-how of the staff. He’s smart enough to realize that. That’s why he’s asking me to stay on as COO for two years.”
“I hope you’re right,” Bas mutters, focusing on the box of donuts. “You going to eat one and pass the rest along or hoard them all?”
With a scowl, I pluck one from the selection and drop it on a napkin, then shove the rest across the table. “I’m right.”
He grabs one out of the box. “Well, on the plus side, us countering could be construed as interest we’ve never shown before. Do you want me to prepare something for you to present back to Colossus?”
“Put something together. I want to look at it when you’re done, but I’m going to have you present instead.”
“That won’t make Lund happy. You know he wants to pal up with you.”
I snort. “Whatever. I want the best deal for me and for Stratus. Looking too eager won’t get me there.”
“Fair enough. Wright, why don’t you come with me and share your ideas? We’ll whip this into something we can send over.”
“Sure.” Nia slips the last bite of the donut into her mouth, and when it oozes cream onto her fingers, she catches it with her tongue. “Be right there.”
I watch the sensual pursing of her lips and the slide of her slick tongue as she sucks her finger clean. Instantly, I go from hard to aching so badly I nearly lose my composure. Worse, I can’t tell if she’s trying to torment me or if she reconsidered our hookup during her lazy Sunday and decided it wasn’t that great after all.
When Bas disappears out the door, Nia stands, then grabs her coffee and purse. “It shouldn’t take me too long to gather my thoughts and format everything. You’ll definitely have a draft to approve by the end of the day. I also gave your personal ad some thought. I think I know what to do. You’ll have a list of candidates by Friday.”
As she takes the doorknob in hand, I stand. “Wait.”
Nia turns and blinks, staring expectantly. “What’s wrong? Did I forget something?”
She’s really going to act as if we didn’t share excruciating pleasure? “I don’t know. Did you? Did you actually forget we had sex?”
With a sigh, Nia cracks the door open and peeks into the hall. No sign of Sebastian or anyone else. When she shuts the door, she takes in a bracing breath as she turns to me. “What do you want, Evan?”
“For you to talk to me. For you to acknowledge that something more than nothing happened between us.”
Her expression tightens. “After you zipped your pants on Saturday night, you told me nothing could change between us at the office. I’m honoring your wishes.”
To her credit, she is behaving as if it’s any other day. She’s not giving me longing, lingering stares. She’s not coming on to me now that we’re alone. She’s not acting as if she has any idea what it feels like when I sink inside her and ride her to climax.
I asked for this. But now that she’s complied, I hate it. “I didn’t say that to hurt you.”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I see pain ripple across her face before she blanks her stare again. “You needed relief. And you see me all the time, so you know I’m safe. I’m not the crazy girlfriend type who will do anything and everything to snare a man. And when you saw me dancing nearly naked at the club, I probably seemed easy. It makes sense that you’d pick me to let out some of your pent-up sexual frustration. It’s fine. I hope you feel better now.”
Balancing her coffee carefully, she twists the knob.
Without thinking twice, I brace my palm against the door, ensuring she can’t open it. Then I lock it and lay my other hand against the hard surface, caging her between my arms, thanking God this conference room doesn’t have any windows. I’m not touching her anywhere—yet. But I want to so badly it’s all I can think about.
“I didn’t storm into your dressing room because I thought you’d be easy to nail. I don’t know what I was thinking, but it certainly wasn’t that you’d spread your legs simply because I asked you to. And it wasn’t with the hope you’d take the edge off my sex drive. And it damn well wasn’t because you’re ‘safe’ or ‘convenient.’” I rake a hand through my hair. “I did it because I couldn’t stop myself.”
“Well, itch scratched, right?” The only hint I have that my nearness is getting to her is the little pulse pounding at the base of her neck. Otherwise, she looks maddeningly cool. “You’re moving on. I got it. We’ll forget it happened and go back to normal.”
Has she lost her damn mind? “You think I’m going to forget what we did? That I even could?”
As soon as the words are out, I wish I could take them back. Maybe she’s capable of hookups and one-night stands. Maybe she didn’t find the sex we shared particularly memorable or special. Maybe she doesn’t want me anymore.
“What are you saying, then? I don’t know what you want.”
For her to forget about maintaining office decorum between us and to kiss me until I drown in her taste. “I want you. I want what we had on Saturday night again. I know we have to maintain a professional environment here. If anyone suspects we might be carrying on a torrid office fling, it could undermine us both.”
She tilts her head and nods. “You’re right. So let me out. I’ll find Bas and get to work.”
I don’t budge. “I didn’t say anything about keeping things status quo away from the office.”
“So what do you think this looks like”—she gestures between us—“when we’re not boss and assistant?”
Great question. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it beyond the fact I know I want more of you.”
“Hmm. But you want to get married next month to someone you don’t yet know. How will that work?”
Another great question. “I don’t know that, either. We’ll take it one day at a time, I guess.”
“I see.” She pastes on a bright smile. “Well, in the meantime, if you don’t want anyone to know we’re fucking on the side, unlock the door and let me leave.”
I know she’s right and yet… “Two minutes more. What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“I have a hair appointment.”
“Wednesday?”
“Dress fitting. I’m a bridesmaid in a friend’s wedding.”
“And I’ll be out of town Thursday and Friday.” I sigh. Of all the challenges we face, I can add our busy schedules to the list. “Saturday night?”
“I’m dancing.”
Her words ping around in my head. I freeze. “You mean you’re taking your clothes off for strangers again?”
“If you want to boil down the art of burlesque to its most tawdry element, I guess so.”
I’m being unfair. Possessive. An ass. I exhale, trying to see this from her perspective. But all I can picture are men with hard dicks staring at her and imagining themselves touching her the way I did, particularly that ex she dances with.
“What if I don’t want you to?”
“I’m not going to give up something I love or who I am for any man, especially not one I hooked up with once. Besides, I signed a contract. I perform for the next two Saturdays. We’re negotiating more performances in early December and all of January.”
So basically, she doesn’t care if I don’t like it. And why should she? Unless I put a ring on her finger, I have no right to tell her what to do.
Now there’s an interesting idea…
“You’re welcome to come back to the club and watch if you want. But if you do, no more sex in my dressing room. I took a ration of crap from Kyle after you left.”
“Your ex-lover?” She gives a damn what he thinks?
Nia sighs as if she’s digging deep for patience. “He’s now just my partner and my friend, one who happens to think screwing my boss is a terrible idea. And if we’re going to fight about this, maybe he’s right.”
“We’re not fighting,” I bite out—then catch myself.
Well, Nia isn’t fighting. I am. Damn it, how many other ways can I not act like myself? Why am I so tied up in knots?
“Good. I’m getting to work now. Can you step aside and let me go?”
I need to. If I don’t, Nia can legitimately claim I’m harassing her. And that’s the last thing I want, especially since I need her to talk to me.
“Can I see you on Sunday, then?”
She hesitates, then looks like she’s gearing up to tell me something I don’t want to hear. “Kyle and I have practice. But even if we didn’t, I’m not sure you and I should see each other away from the office until you decide what you want this to be. Are we having casual sex or starting some sort of a relationship? Until you can answer that question, I’m not sure there’s any reason for us to get together.” She gives me a nudge, and I move out of her way because I should. And because her question bowls me over.
What am I doing with her?
“All right. We’ll talk next week.”
I half expect her to shrug me off. Until now, she’s acted like my decision doesn’t matter one way or the other to her. Instead, her face softens. “I hope so.”
When she turns the knob and twists out of the conference room, I don’t try to stop her.
I have a week to make up my mind. I already hate the thought of letting her out of my sight, though not as much as I hate the thought of her with Kyle. But I know where my thoughts are heading…