CHAPTER TWO
Matt
It was so fucking boring at these things. I looked around the dinner table, the women dressed in couture, the men in slick dinner jackets. I could have sworn our hostess had a real fur stole around her neck, which was ludicrous given that the pea shoot soup had dribbled a bit of neon green onto the white fur.
“Matt,” she called out, her voice ringing out across the table. “Tell us what you’re up to these days. You and your brothers are filthy rich from the Sterling Pharmaceuticals IPO, isn’t that right?”
Ah, trust Delinda to be discreet. Of course, all the guests already knew that Sterling was a fucking unicorn, one of the few start-ups to successfully launch and go public. And yes, my brothers Jake, Caleb, Cade and I were now fucking billionaires, the toast of San Francisco. But really Delinda? Did you have to make a pronouncement at a crowded table?
I responded the only way I could. Delinda was married to Bill Dowd, one of the top VCs in the valley, and not someone to offend.
“Darlin’ Delinda, I’m up to this and that,” I said smoothly. “Sterling keeps me busy on a day to day basis and I have a coupla hobbies,” I drawled.
Delinda smiled sweetly.
And have you been seeing anyone special?” she asked with a wink. “We’ve got some very eligible ladies seated right here.”
I fucking growled under my breath. I hated being set up on blind dates, introduced to all sorts of “eligible women” who oohed and ahed at everything I said, swooning at my every gesture. But again, I needed to play the gracious guest.
“I’m just a farm boy,” I drawled again, “Much too simple for the likes of the gorgeous ladies here,” I said, smiling at the assortment of thin, starved beauties arrayed around me. I swear, each of these women could use a good meal … yeah, a hefty ham sandwich would do it, if they weren’t already vegans, fruitarians or South Beach disciples. My smile didn’t reach my eyes, but based on the predatory looks and competitive hair-tossing, these women already had their claws out.
“Well Matt darling, we’ll have to get you set up!” crowed Delinda. “All it takes is the right woman and you’ll be a married man in no time, isn’t that right Bill?” she said, nudging her husband. “We were married on the fly, honey, and wasn’t it just the most wonderful whirlwind?”
Bill, who had obviously been in this situation many times before, ignored his wife as he spoke to another guest. But the rest of the table tittered politely, even as we smiled. It was common knowledge that Bill and Delinda and begun their affair while married to other people, destroying their families in the process.
But that was their business, not mine. I just wanted to finish this dinner and get the fuck back to my penthouse before getting up again for another hectic day.
Ah, the grind. Lately, Sterling Pharmaceuticals hasn’t been enough for me. Sure, it’s worked its magic and my brothers and I are wealthy beyond our wildest dreams. But there was something about the old days that was missing, something that had changed. Maybe we’d gotten more corporate? We’d gone from an office of ten to a thousand employees in five years flat.
And it’d been a transition. Before I was a simple country boy tasked with marketing, pushing Sterling products on anyone and everyone who would listen. I talked my head off, maybe selling snake oil in some cases, but hey, that’s what sales guys do right? I loved every second of it, the fact that we were boots on the ground, charting new territory, exploring the great unknown with new drugs, new customers, new market segments.
Now I’m fucking Senior VP of Marketing, head of multiple divisions. I wear a fucking suit to work every day, and have an office as big as a cavern. I have three computers, a private bathroom, and all the pussy I need just by flashing my business card.
But something deeper has shifted within me and the company, too. Sterling’s culture has morphed and I miss the days when our outfit was nothing more than a bunch of twenty-something workaholic boys, reeking of testosterone and BO.
“Matt,” a high-pitched voice interrupted my reverie. I turned to see a glamorous raven-haired girl walk towards me. Or maybe sashay with a predatory look is a better description. The girl was stunning, her hair done up in some elaborate design, her red dress long and floor-length, displaying every inch of her stunning figure.
“You remember me, right?” she asked teasingly. “Vanessa, from the MOMA gala?”
My mind ran furiously as I tried to remember that night. I’d worked late, pulling on my tux in my office while a car waited downstairs. Hey, just call me James Bond okay? It was part of my job as a marketing guru to meet the right people and see and be seen.
I vaguely remembered a couple of women at the event, but I couldn’t place the girl before me.
“Oh right,” I said vaguely. “Hi, how are you?”
“Jake, surely you remember our conversation?” she said with an eyebrow arched. “And what happened afterwards?”
Oh fuck, had some shit gone down? I seriously had no memory of that night, but when you work like a mofo life passes in a blur. Maybe we went to a bar afterwards and I fingered her under her dress? Boned her even? I had no fucking clue.
“Silly, you promised we’d hit up L’Osseria’s wine-tasting event later this month,” she trilled, lightly placing a manicured hand on my arm. “I’m the wine coordinator at Slanted Plate, I can introduce you to the finest flavors,” she said suggestively. Ugh, these women were so over the top, I could feel bile rising in my throat.
I was about to politely decline when Delinda swooped in, having overheard our conversation.
“Oh that’s perfect,” cawed our hostess. Again, a model of discretion. “Matt would love to take you, I know he’s got tickets, that company of his buys the best of everything,” Delinda announced. And it was true. I was in the client service industry so Sterling purchased VIP passes for a myriad of high-end events, but with potential customers in mind, not dates for executives.
But again, I was caught in this fucking web of feminine wiles. I didn’t want to go, fuck I didn’t even want to be here, but I found myself nodding in agreement just because it was easier.
“Sure,” I rumbled. “Give my office a call,” I said, proffering my business card.
“Matty, you can do better than that,” Delinda said slyly. “Give her your cell.”
It took all of my strength not to wring this fucking bird’s neck at her own party. If her husband weren’t Bill Dowd, I swear I’d be a murderer already. But graciously, I scrawled my cell number onto the card and handed it with a fake smile to Vanessa.
“Looking forward,” I rumbled.
“Me too,” she panted breathlessly, her scarlet lips twisted in a smile revealing sharp, tiny teeth. “Me too.”