Chapter Five

Carrie

I stare at the doorway where Reid has just exited, in disbelief. His office? My father’s office. Furious, I grab the folder and stand up, rounding my desk with the intent of telling him where to stick this contract, but right when I’m about to exit my office, Sallie appears in front of me. “He just went into your father’s office. Am I supposed to let him?”

I open my mouth to say about ten things I can’t say. Reid Maxwell is her new boss and it cuts so damn deep I might bleed out right here and now. “Yes,” I say. “You are. I’ll explain later. I need a few minutes.” I present those words as calmly as I delivered the news that the Waterbrook project had crashed and burned only three weeks ago, but just like then, I’m melting down inside. “I’ll get with you in a bit.”

“Okay.” She backs up and I charge forward, toward my father’s office, where that man is now sitting with the door shut, which he clearly did to push my buttons. I pass the empty secretarial desk, and when I reach the office, I don’t bother knocking. I open the door and enter, shutting it behind me and sure enough, Reid’s sitting behind my father’s massive mahogany desk, in the office where I’d played with Barbies as a child, when all I wanted was to grow up to be just like my father. Worse, he looks good behind it, which only pisses me off more.

He arches a brow in that arrogant way he does everything and then leans back in his chair. I move toward him, and he, of course, watches my every step with apt attention. I stop directly in front of him, between the visitor’s chair, and repeat his earlier actions. I toss the folder on the desk, and then lean on it, hands flat on the wood. “I’m not going to play your games with you and your loads of money and time to kill taunting me.”

He leans forward, and now we’re close, damn—really close, those blue eyes so ridiculously blue. “People with loads of money,” he says, “don’t have it because they waste time playing games.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“I don’t do anything that wastes my time,” he repeats. “And I’m going to say this one more time and never again. If the numbers weren’t doable, I wouldn’t be here.”

“You won’t say it again?” I demand incredulously. “Like I’m a child you’re reprimanding?”

“You do like to play with toys,” he comments dryly. “And not very nicely. You reeled me in and left me in that room wholly unsatisfied.”

“You have a hand,” I snap, shoving off the desk.

“But I’d rather use yours,” he says, never so much as blinking, his voice now a warm, silky taunt, “but that won’t happen. I don’t fuck where I work. I don’t mix business with pleasure. This is business.”

I laugh in disbelief. “Because you won’t let it happen? Like I would.”

“Do you really want to challenge me on that?”

“Apparently I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

His lips twitch but he changes the topic. “The investors behind this stock leverage want a return. I promised them that this,” he lifts the contract, “doubles what I predicted previously.” He drops the contract again. “Can or can’t,” he says. “Sign or don’t sign, but decide now.”

“You gave me an hour.”

“I changed my mind. Now or never.”

“I need to read it.”

“Read it now, here, with me. You’re an attorney and a good one from what I’ve studied. You’ll find it simple, precise, and clear. It guarantees your salary for six months which isn’t a small salary. Losing that would hurt.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“One who hands out orgasms and paychecks.”

My lips purse but I grab the folder and walk to the black leather couch to my left and sit down, setting the folder in my lap to begin reading. Reid thankfully stays where he’s at, opening his MacBook to actually do his own work. I’m a few pages into the document, and I reluctantly admit that he’s right. I need my paycheck. I gave my savings to my father to start a new firm he’s off chasing. And everything in the contract is as Reid claimed; simple, precise, and clear, at least to someone used to reading the language, which I am. I buy back my father’s stock by way of that profit figure. That huge profit that sets me off again.

I shut the folder and walk back to the desk, setting it back in front of him. “Lower the number.”

“No,” he says simply. “Sign or don’t sign. Time’s up.” He sharpens his stare. “Your salary remains the same. Your bonuses remain the same, and we both know you cleaned out your savings to help your father leverage one of his side deals. You need this deal.”

I don’t blink despite the fact that he jolts me with his knowledge of my personal business that he shouldn’t know, but he’s right. I did write a check to my father. I was all in, even when my gut said to pull back.

“Knowing this,” he adds, “makes your move Friday night all the more gutsy. You were walking away from a paycheck.”

“I’d already heard I was one foot out the door.”

“The only two people that can walk you out of the door are me and you. Can or can’t,” he repeats.

My lips tighten, and I lean in to reach for a pen on the desk and suddenly his hand is on mine, the spark of electricity up my arm rocketing my eyes to his. “Can or can’t?” he demands softly, his eyes somehow hot and cold at the same time.

“Can,” I bite out.

“What changed your mind?”

“You.”

“Explain.”

“I have let this become emotional, which is always a mistake,” I admit, the truth of those words cutting like so many things right now. “I let myself believe that meant you had as well, but that’s not you. This is about money to you, not me and a pair of handcuffs.”

He studies me a few beats, and then releases me, sliding the folder closer to me. I sign the document. “Now what?”

“Sit.”

“I don’t want to sit.”

“Sit, Carrie,” he orders and while his voice is soft, it’s absolute.

“Carrie?” I challenge. “Not Samantha?”

“I’ll save Samantha for when we’re alone.”

“I’ll save asshole for you when we’re alone.”

“I can live with that,” he says. “Sit.”

I sit and he gets right to the point. “Tomorrow morning, the board will name me the new acting CEO. I don’t want or need this job, but it’s mine for now. I’ll name you second in charge with the understanding that I’m evaluating you to replace me when I step aside.”

Evaluating me to take the job that was always supposed to be mine, but I don’t say that. “Which will be when?” I ask instead.

“As far as the board is concerned, I represent the majority stockholders. When I decide it’s safe to step aside and hand you the keys, they’ll accept that decision.”

“They have to agree.”

“They’ll push back tomorrow because you’re your father’s daughter. They’ll stop pushing back when the numbers say they should.”

“They’ll think it’s all you.”

“If I let them, but I won’t. I have a company to run and it’s not this one.”

“In other words, I have to trust you, a man I cuffed and left in a hotel room for being a bastard.” I don’t give him time to reply. “Will I attend this meeting?”

“No,” he says. “They want a closed-door management discussion, but it’ll be recorded. You can listen to it, but so can others. In other words, we have to deal with this here, in this office, today.”

I cut my gaze and swallow the knot in my throat before looking at him. “What are you going to say?”

“I’m going to tell them your father retired and I stepped in to help take the company to a new level, something you support and endorse. My role is temporary.”

“They will figure out what really happened.”

“That is what really happened. Ultimately, your father voluntarily retired. You are the future of the company.”

“Why would your investors accept this option?”

“I told you—”

“You promised them double returns.”

“Yes.” He studies me. “I need to know you see the real picture. Where did it all go wrong?”

I want to shout at him that he’s what went wrong, but that’s me getting emotional again. “The Summerton and Waterbrook projects,” I say. “But Waterbrook sealed our death.”

“What was your role in those projects?”

“Advisor to my father.”

“Then you told him to go on them?” he challenges.

My lips thin. “He made the calls.”

“Did you tell him they were good moves?”

“I told him to walk away from both.”

“Why?”

“As you know, I’m sure, Summerton was a resort project in another country. The financial instability of the group investing, legal ramifications to a variety of terms, and location challenges were among my list of concerns. There were others.”

“And it ended up half-built without funding.”

“Yes.”

“And Waterbrook. Tell me about Waterbrook.”

“Waterbrook was an early development project in Casper, Wyoming, where an oil and gas boom has started, and the city is just taking shape. On paper it made sense.”

“But?”

“I disliked Max Waterbrook, the key investor in the project. It was a gut feeling. I couldn’t find the facts to support it, but I knew he was trouble. And now our project is dirt, quite literally, and he’s disappeared with the money.”

“If there’s a snake in the grass, you make sure he’s your snake.”

“Like you?” I dare.

“If you believe that, you shouldn’t have signed the papers. I don’t lie or cheat, Carrie. I’m here because there were people on that board losing big money over your father’s decisions. They sold off stock to allow the takeover. They wanted him out. They want the money he lost back, and if I were them, I’d damn sure want the same. My investors, however, just want money as fast as they can get it. None of them sought out West Enterprises on a personal mission.”

I’m angry with this assessment for about ten reasons, but he’s moved on about a second before I unleash on him. “I need to see every project you’ve touched in the time you’ve been here and your recommendations on each, along with the outcome,” he says. “How fast can I have it?”

“As fast as it takes me to email it to you. I record that data and have from the day I started to work.”

“Good. We’ll go over it together, later. After we deal with the staff. When can we hold a meeting?”

“It has to be after hours.”

“After hours it is then,” he replies. “Make it happen, and then we’ll review your track record.”

My track record.

We will review my track record.

Anger is starting to burn in my belly all over again. I stand but I can’t let him off, I can’t let him pretend this is anything but what it is. I press my hands on the desk again and look him in those baby blues. “You aren’t a hero. You’re the reason I didn’t get the chance to save the company and I would have had you not swept the stock. You’re the reason my father was pushed out.”

“Your father needed to be pushed out and you couldn’t save it until he was. Deep down, I know you already know that.”

“You really are an asshole.”

“There she is,” he says. “Samantha live and in person. Keep her here because we both need her, and you were wrong earlier. This is about you, me and the handcuffs. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You came at me. You weren’t afraid. You even got something out of it. That was impressive. That earned you a chance you can use that killer instinct here, but don’t underestimate me. I’m not here to be your friend, but I’m not here to fuck you either.”

“Because you already did. You fucked me. You fucked my family. You don’t need to do it again and yet I know, I know, that in the end, I will claw and fight to save this company because I have to, because this place is all I have, and yet, you will. You will fuck me, and I just signed the contract that says I approve.” I straighten and head for the door, but the minute I reach for the knob, his big body is behind me, his hand on the knob. I’m now caged between the door and Reid Maxwell.