First class or coach doesn’t matter if the plane’s tumbling to the ground at upwards of six hundred miles per hour. It’s an irrational fear, I know. Flying is one of the safest forms of travel, but that doesn’t change the fact that a tiny tube is holding two hundred people hostage in the air for five hours.
The landing is the worst part, though it should be the best—it means the flight is over, but it’s also when the plane jumps a little as we hit the ground going faster than any speed limit allows.
I hate this irrational fear of mine. I love cars. I love driving fast. I got a sweet Aston Martin up faster than this fucking plane’s ground speed out on a country road just last month.
But put me on a plane and watch me pale with nerves as I grip my armrest until my fingers hurt.
Once the plane comes to a complete stop and the fasten seatbelt sign goes dark, relief washes over me.
When I finally get the girl, one of us is going to have to move, because this back-and-forth-across-the-country shit isn’t going to work for me.
I shake that thought out of my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m suddenly this sappy prick over some girl I don’t even know.
All I know is that she spoke to me on a different level than any woman has ever spoken to me, and I have to see her again. I have to know if what I felt from our few hours together is real or if it’s some crazy shit my brain dreamed up.
I can’t believe I’m actually here. I came on a whim with no real plan.
My first stop will be King Contributions, our charitable organization. I’ll focus on business; that’ll calm my nerves.
The driver Lauren arranged for me waits just outside the terminal. He’s holding a sign with my name, and despite my complete self-absorption, I never fail to notice the people around me who look to see if I’m somebody—the people who walk to self-park while I greet a stranger who’ll take me wherever I want to go.
I suppose I am, in the grand scheme of things, somebody, but no one would recognize me as the soon-to-be chief executive officer of a world-renowned company.
I give the driver the address for the office where my brother runs King Contributions. He’s good at what he does. He cares about other people more than he cares about himself, and that’s what makes him not just a great brother, but also a great person. He took the good example my father set and has become an honorable adult, father, and husband. As the older brother, you’d think I’d have inherited that gene as well. Guess what? I didn’t.
Maybe a part of me resents my dad for automatically assuming I’d want the CEO position. I’m a coward, though. I don’t know how to tell him I don’t actually want to do it, and now that I’ve spoken the words aloud to someone else, there’s a lot more truth behind them. I believe them. I allowed myself to pretend it wasn’t true, to pretend I’d be okay with it, but I’m not.
I’ve been to the King Contributions building lots of times, and I head straight for Carter’s secretary when I arrive. She nods me through. This office is much more informal than our offices back in New York, and I love the casual, laid-back atmosphere.
I knock on Carter’s door, and he glances up from his computer, his face breaking into a smile when he sees me. Our cousin Axel dubbed us the Three Musketeers when we were kids, and both he and Carter truly are my best friends. Miller’s a great guy, but nothing beats family.
“Hey!” Carter says, standing to greet me. He gives me a quick hug and I pound his back like I always do.
“How are things going?”
He grins. “Millie’s walking everywhere all by herself now.”
“I meant with business, but no shit? Isn’t that early? Is she genius level? Don’t they normally start walking at, like, three or something?”
“God, you’re even more clueless than I was.”
I shrug—he’s not wrong. “How’s Courtney?”
He looks up toward the sky. “She’s five months pregnant. You do the math.” He nods to the chair facing his desk and I sit in it as he sits behind his desk.
“And how are you?”
“I’ve got a wife that’s five months pregnant and a fourteen-month-old who runs the house. Work doesn’t really feel like work anymore.”
I laugh. “You seem happy.”
“I am, actually. Things have never been better.”
“Have you figured out a name for the boy yet?”
He nods. “We have, but we’re not telling.”
“Carson?”
“You wish.”
“Yeah, that’s all we need—two Carson Kings running around.”
Carter’s face twists into a mask of horror, and I laugh again.
We catch up some more before we start talking shop, and I can’t help but think how much my brother’s life has changed in the two years since he moved out here. He found a great girl, got married, and got her pregnant all in a few months. Maybe it’s something in the California water.
It appears that King Contributions is thriving under my brother’s management.
After an hour, I start to get antsy. I’m back in the same time zone as Sylvie, and I’m itching to see her. I’m just not exactly sure how to pull it off.
Maybe you should do something to show her she should be with you.
Lauren’s words replay in my head again. The one thing I know would show Sylvie she should be with me is the one thing I can’t do. I can’t put a stop to King’s acquisition of Baker. The wheels were set in motion long before I actually spoke to Rob Baker in person last week. I had to get the board on my side before I went in and gave him my final offer. Company mergers aren’t a simple, overnight process, and they’re even harder when one of the parties isn’t interested in merging. Paul, the CFO of King, has been working tirelessly to negotiate with shareholders, and we’re days away from officially merging Baker into King Communications.
God, it feels like a damn lifetime ago. It’s hard to imagine that it actually hasn’t been that long since I was here in San Diego sitting in Rob Baker’s office, oblivious to the fact that his daughter is a fucking goddess. She was probably occupying an office not far from his before she started occupying every waking thought in my stupid head.
Miller: You up for Enders tonight?
Me: I’m in San Diego. How’s my money doing?
Miller: Better. The loss isn’t as bad as I first thought.
Me: That’s good news.
Miller: When will you be back?
Me: Why? You need your wingman?
Miller: No. The opposite, actually.
The opposite? What the hell does that even mean? I dial his number, and he answers right away.
“You’re only down about ten percent of what the initial report indicated,” he says as a greeting.
“Get that ten percent back and we’ll be back on the same page. Now why don’t you need your wingman?”
“Taylor.”
“Taylor? From Enders?”
“Taylor from Enders,” he confirms.
“What about her?”
“She’s it, man. She’s fucked my head and I’m gone.”
“Not just your head, I assume.”
He laughs. “She’s… I don’t know. I haven’t even looked at another girl since we first hooked up.”
“Well that’s news.”
“Tell me about it. It’s crazy.”
I want to tell him about Sylvie. This is my opening, but right as I open my mouth to speak, he says, “I can still be your wingman, though.”
I chuckle. “Not sure if that’s necessary anymore.”
“Anymore?” he asks. “Why, did you find someone too?”
“I’m not sure, actually. Maybe.”
“Huh,” he muses. “Guess nights at Enders might start looking a little different.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe not.
I hear someone talking in the background, and I assume he’s at work. “I have to run. I’ll email you the detailed financial reports and I’ll get that ten percent plus a hell of a lot more back for you.”
“Get on it,” I say gruffly, and we hang up.
Next I text Paul.
Me: I’m in San Diego. How are the negotiations going with Baker?
Paul: Perfect. Everything is in place and it’s not as hostile as we first thought.
Me: What does that mean?
My phone rings. “Hi Paul.”
“It means a lot of their major stakeholders want this.”
“Why?”
“There are rumors about the president.”
“What kind of rumors?”
“He’s not well. Stockholders don’t want to see him take the company down just because he’s a stubborn old goat with something to prove.”
I think immediately of Sylvie. If the rumor’s true, she’s not only dealing with her family company being taken over, she’s also dealing with a possibly sick parent. She was so composed, so put together when we met. The weight of it all presses heavily on my chest. “He’s not well?”
“I don’t know any details.”
“How did you find out about this rumor?”
“Between us, it came from their legal team.”
“So they’re just allowing us to come in?”
“It’s going to be very profitable for them.”
“I imagine so, since King’s taking a huge hit to acquire them.”
“A hit now, but it’ll skyrocket our value.”
“I’m heading that direction now. Anything I need to know before I go in?”
“I’d say just reassure the executives that their jobs will be safe.”
“That’s not something I can guarantee.”
“Do it anyway.”
“I’m not going to lie, Paul. That’s the best way to start off on the wrong foot.”
“Then why did you ask my opinion?”
“Touché.”
He laughs and we hang up. I stare out the window wondering what the fuck I’m actually doing.
* * *
The elevator doors open, and I’m greeting the Baker Media receptionist for the second time this month.
“Mr. King,” she says, obviously remembering who I am. I wonder if she knows I’m taking over the company. I wonder if she’s being extra nice so she doesn’t lose her job.
I wonder how well she knows Sylvie, if she knows where Sylvie is right at this moment, even.
“Is Mr. Baker expecting you?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Surprise visit. Is he in?”
She checks her screen. “Yes. He’s in his office now, but he has a meeting scheduled in a half hour.”
“Is Sylvie in?” I ask.
She studies the monitor for a minute. “She’s out of the office now and I don’t expect her back until this afternoon. Would you like me to call Mr. Baker up?”
“Sure, that’d be great.”
She presses some buttons on her phone and I take a seat, wondering what the fuck I’m going to say to Rob Baker. I came here hoping to see Sylvie. I flew across the country intent on seeing her again, and she’s not even here until this afternoon.
This whole thing was a mistake.
Rob turns the corner. He doesn’t look thrilled to see me. “Mr. King. What can I do for you?” he asks.
“Let’s talk in your office,” I say, and he nods and turns. I follow him back.
He closes the door and takes a seat behind his desk. I slide into one of the chairs facing him.
“Did you come to get more information out of me?” he asks.
I chuckle. “No, sir, I came to talk to you about the transition.”
He raises a brow.
“King has started acquiring shares. It won’t be long before we have controlling majority, and I promise you the transition will be smooth.”
“You’re an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, do you know that?”
I sink back into my chair in surprise at the force of his words. “I’m sorry?”
“You come here and act like you know everything.”
“I can assure you, sir, I don’t.” Most days I feel like I know nothing, actually. I’m met with this weird sensation about how strange it is that this guy hates the shit out of me when I have such strong feelings for his daughter
He shakes his head in disgust and picks up a file on his desk. He opens the folder and appears to be focusing on the details inside, intent on ignoring my presence in the room. I notice the slightest tremble to the edge of the papers. I must be making him nervous.
“I don’t want to make this difficult on anyone,” I say, attempting a tone of comfort. “That’s not my intention.”
“Too late.”
I sigh. “If you didn’t want this to happen, you should never have gone public.”
“That wasn’t my decision. It was my father’s.”
“This will be a lucrative gain for you, sir.”
“It’s not about the money—don’t you get that? It’s about family. Your business is exactly the same. How would you feel if someone who wasn’t part of the family stepped in to take over as CEO?”
Relieved. I’d feel relieved. If someone who wasn’t part of my family stepped in to take over, that would mean I wouldn’t be the one who had to take over.
I know that’s not what he’s going for with this conversation, but that reality hits me like a ton of bricks.
“I appreciate your concerns. I hope you realize I’m not the acting CEO of King, not yet. My father is. This acquisition was his idea, and I’m fighting for my company the same way you’re fighting for yours.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me blankly.
“I reviewed your public profile and financials at length, Mr. Baker. We have the power to turn profits this branch has never seen, and we have the resources to introduce and advance technology like you wouldn’t believe. I’m excited to work with you, and I just hope you’ll give me—and King—a chance to take care of your employees while moving your business out of the twentieth century.”
He looks down at his desk. “Thanks for coming in today. Is there anything else?” He isn’t making eye contact with me, and I’m not sure if it’s in defeat, because of emotions, or some other reason.
“No. I’ll see myself out.”
I stand and leave, wishing I could’ve at least ended with a handshake. This man really doesn’t like me, but I fear there’s not much I can do to change his mind.
I head for the exit. This was a completely wasted trip. I can try again tomorrow, but I can’t keep showing up here without a reason. I can’t keep inventing conversations I haven’t planned in advance.
I nod at the receptionist on my way out. “Thanks for your help.”
“Would you like me to tell Sylvie you came by today?”
It feels like a loaded question. On the one hand, no—I want to see her for myself.
But on the other hand…then she’ll know I was here. She’ll know I’m in town. The image of my face will be in her thoughts.
“Sure, that would be great.”
I make my way toward my rental car in the parking lot. I start the engine and turn around to see if it’s clear for me to back out, but there’s a group of five people walking just behind my car.
I immediately spot her, as if my eyes seek her out automatically.
My memory betrayed me; she’s even more stunning than I remember, and my dick twitches in response. We’re sharing space mere feet apart, and she has no idea I’m here. I memorize her—the way her hips sway in her navy dress as she walks, the curve of her calf muscles as they flex with each step, the bounce and sheen of her wavy, dark hair that tumbles to the middle of her back. I stare at her unabashedly, making it look like I’m just a guy trying to back out of a space as she passes by.
I think about getting out. I think about running after her.
But I don’t. I stay in my car and stare at her like a creep.
As they approach the building, a man slings his arm around her shoulders. She turns to look at him, and then she turns back and looks in my direction, as if she can feel eyes on her. Her fingertips touch her neck, and I immediately turn the other way and back out of the space.
She was wearing sunglasses, but that one look back told me everything I need to know: his arm may have been around her, but she wasn’t happy about it.
I won’t run after her, not yet. I’ll keep on with my plan to outwait.