Chapter Six
Ian
“I called you the other night.”
Lowering the cup of black coffee I’d just brought to my lips, I lifted my head to see my head of public relations staring down at me, accusingly.
“It appears I didn’t answer,” I stated coolly, dismissing Jamie and taking the intended sip of my coffee. I was just sitting down to an early morning breakfast at the hotel in Seattle where my staff and I had stayed for the night. We had another series of meetings that week up and down the West Coast. That particular night I would be attending a showing at the Seattle Museum of Art. One of the rare events that I actually wanted to attend. Plus, having Stacia as my date for another one of these gatherings made it worthwhile.
“Ian, are you listening to me?”
I blinked and realized that Jamie was now sitting across the table from me. My frown deepened at the intrusion.
“I was trying to enjoy my coffee.”
“What about the Collins deal? You’ve told me no more about it. And the Acostas, who you had dinner with four nights ago, yet failed to disclose to me what occurred in the meeting. If I am to keep on top of your PR I need to know these things.”
“I provide you with all of the information you need to know.”
“Ian, I’m sure you think you do, but—”
“I think?” I questioned angrily, staring Jamie in the eye. She was undoubtedly good at what she did, but I’d fired people far more competent than she for merely crossing a line with me.
“I’m sorry, Ian. I didn’t mean to suggest you didn’t know what you were doing. It’s just—”
“Just what?” I questioned impatiently.
“You’re making all of these changes and I don’t always know about them beforehand. Two days ago you decided not to attend the gala in Houston, which you were looking forward to attending to meet—”
“Stephen Davis.” Davis was one of the top up-and-coming specialty beer producers. A number of big names were vying to purchase his company. Zerlinger Beers was one of them. “I’m well aware of my business obligations. I’m also aware that Davis canceled his attendance at the gala citing family matters. He has canceled all of his major meetings and appearances for the same reasons. My assistant was able to get a meeting with him on my schedule after the holidays.”
“Oh,” Jamie replied, sitting back a little in her chair.
“And frankly, as my head of PR, the fact that you didn’t know about Davis’ cancellations has me concerned about your competency,” I stated sharply.
“Ian, no, that’s not it,” she insisted. “I am as competent as—”
“Good morning, friend.”
Stacia’s voice behind me instantly changed my mood. I’d left her upstairs in the room because she looked so peaceful sleeping. That and the fact that I did cherish my alone time in the mornings. Something that was appreciated by Stacia since she enjoyed sleeping in. Ever since that night in her apartment in Atlanta, nearly a week prior, we hadn’t slept apart. Though, my staff continued to book her separate hotel rooms when we traveled, she either wound up in my bed or I in hers. I couldn’t say I minded it much.
“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t know you were working. I can come back.”
“No,” I insisted, standing up to welcome her to the table. “You’re right on time. I was just about to order breakfast. Jamie was just leaving.” I glanced over at Jamie, expectantly.
Her narrowed eyes moved from Stacia to me, softening. “Ian, we—”
“Can discuss whatever needs to be discussed later on.” The firmness in my voice left no room for argument.
Jamie rose from her chair, and I assumed she’d been about to say something. However, I wouldn’t know since I quickly dismissed her from my thoughts and moved to the other side of the table to pull the chair out for Stacia to sit.
“Thank you, friend,” she stated as I took my seat across from her.
“Would you give the friend thing a rest?” I said as I rolled my eye, but my voice was that odd teasing tone that only came out when she was around.
“What? We are friends, right?”
I shook my head and perched my elbows on the table and just stared at her. Her chocolate-colored eyes and toffee skin had a specific kind of glow that morning. My gaze rolled up to the top of her hair and I grinned inwardly at the short, dyed blond, curly locks that rested there. She’d done as I’d requested the first time I’d seen her actual hair and not covered it.
“We’re friends,” I finally answered, and when her warm smile grew tenfold at my answer I felt like I’d won the fucking lottery. A strange feeling considering I’d been born with more wealth than ninety-nine percent of the population.
“So what’s on the agenda tonight, friend?”
Shaking my head, I smirked. But just when I was about to tell her about the museum event, our waitress interrupted. I ordered Stacia the eggnog coffee the restaurant had on the menu for the holidays. I’d quickly become attuned to her penchant for all things eggnog over the previous few weeks. I also ordered french toast, eggs, and sausage for the both of us as I handed the menu back to the waitress.
“You’re getting good at my breakfast order. Keep it up and you might have a shot at a career as a flight attendant. You know, if this whole Zerlinger Beer and Spirits mogul thing doesn’t work out for you.” She giggled at her own joke, causing me to chuckle.
“That sounds nice.”
I wrinkled my forehead in confusion. “What does?”
“The sound of your laughter.”
I froze. It had been a long time since I’d laughed freely around anyone.
“I’ve been out of practice with it,” I confessed.
“See? That’s the value of friendship. What good is the ability to laugh if you don’t do it every day?”
“Every day?” I questioned on a raised eyebrow.
She nodded. “Absolutely. It’s good for reducing stress, as well.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I answered just as our waitress brought us our breakfasts.
As we ate, I told Stacia about the night’s event at the museum. It would be showcasing a number of new and local artists.
“And you’re looking forward to meeting some business colleague or dealmaker tonight?” she questioned after swallowing a bite of french toast.
I paused, wondering how to answer, and before I realized what was happening, the truth spilled out. “No. There will be important business connections there just like every other event I attend, but this one is more personal.”
She angled her head in that adorable inquisitive way she often did. “How so?”
“I am somewhat of an admirer of art. It’s always good to support new artists.”
“So there is something you’re passionate about outside of work!”
Yes, you, my brain immediately responded as soon as the words fell from her lips. Thank God, I had the presence of mind not to say them out loud.
“Yes,” I answered, lowering my gaze and wiping my mouth with the napkin. “Art is an, uh, interest of mine.” Not the full truth but that’s as deep as I was going to get with it for the time being.
“We have a lunch scheduled for one o’clock.”
Stacia nodded. “I’m well aware. And you have meetings all morning between now and then. I will meet you in the lobby at twelve-thirty to head to lunch.”
We both stood from the table. I really needed to get going in order to make my first meeting on time. However, when Stacia moved to step away from the table, I caught her by the hand.
“What will you be doing for the next few hours?” How she spent her time when she was out of my sight had begun to consume my thoughts more and more. Not that I thought she was doing something untrustworthy, but more so wondering if she was enjoying herself.
“I’ve got a list. I’m going to try to see the Space Needle, and if there’s enough time head over to do a walking tour of Pike Place Market. I told you, I know how to keep myself occupied. It comes with the trade.” She squeezed my hand as if reassuring a needy child, or worse, a needy boyfriend.
She had told me before that being a flight attendant had taught her how to keep herself busy while on layovers. On some of our trips, she’d even told me about parts of certain cities I hadn’t been aware of.
“I’ll see you later. Enjoy your meetings.”
“These aren’t the type of meetings one usually enjoys.”
Stacia shrugged. “Try to anyway.”
I squeezed her hand before reluctantly letting it go. I swear the sentimentality of the holidays must’ve been wearing on me because as she walked away, pulling the navy blue, waist-length coat she wore tightly around her body, the urge to skip all work meetings and join her for a day of sightseeing was nearly overwhelming. Never, had a day of visiting a city’s most popular tourist attractions sounded appealing. And yet, there I was semi resentful at the fact that I had to work.
“It’ll pass,” I mumbled to myself as I turned in the opposite direction as Stacia, toward one of the hotel’s boardrooms where my first meeting was to occur.
****
Stacia
“Are you lost?”
My head jerked back and I instantly frowned at the nasty tone that had obviously been directed at me. Turning, I came face-to-face with Ian’s head of public relations. Save for the deep scowl that was aimed solely on me, Jamie looked beautiful in a dark blue gown that looked radiant against her long, thick hair. She actually reminded me a lot of Kate Middleton with her brown eyes and thick, lustrous brown locks that rested on her shoulders.
Despite her attitude, I decided to return her dour mood with kindness. Hell, Ian had basically told me I was good at faking it, but he had no idea. I had been raised to smile and put on a good front even when I wanted to cry.
“I was just looking for Ian.”
“He’s busy,” she replied shortly.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Okay, well then, I’ll busy myself by looking at some of the art—”
“You know, you aren’t needed here. This isn’t a work event for Ian, and he isn’t expected to have a date on his arm on all occasions. It’s probably best that you—”
“There you are.” Ian’s deep voice flowed like water over my skin, completely submerging me in a blanket of his warmth. Funny thing is I hadn’t even felt cold until he arrived at that moment. Now that he was there, wrapping his arm around my waist, I realized I had been freezing, not due to the actual temperature, but just lack of the specific warmth that he brought to me.
“Hey,” I responded, staring up at him.
“Thanks for keeping Stacia company, Jamie,” Ian stated, nodding in her direction before steering us away from her.
“I’m not so sure her plan was to keep me company,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” Ian lowered his head to ask.
“Nothing. Where had you gotten off to?”
“Making my donation to the museum and speaking privately with the director.”
I turned to stare at Ian as he stopped us in the middle of the museum, taking two flutes of champagne and passing one of them to me. I took a sip of the bubbly drink.
“It’s not the spiked eggnog you adore but it’ll do for now.”
I smirked. “I have some stashed back at the hotel room.”
Ian’s grin was a welcomed sight.
“Your company donated to tonight’s event?” I asked.
Ian shook his head. “Not my company. Me. I donated out of my personal account. As I explained, tonight’s exhibit is mainly comprised of new artists. Many of which are still in school or just finishing and unable to garner access to wider audiences. The event here tonight goes to help those artists either continue to fund their education or showcase their work to get their name out to the public.”
I smiled widely. Ian might not have been aware of it, but the passion he felt for the arts was evident in the way he spoke about it. Also the fact that he backed his words up with real action in the form of donating.
“How long have you been interested in art?”
His gaze raised as he glanced around, pondering the question. “Since I was young, I guess. Let me show you around.”
He took me by the hand, leading me to the far wall. Ian stopped us a few feet from a painting, while moving around me to cover the stand that gave a description of the painting along with the artist’s name. “Tell me what you see here,” he ordered.
I lifted my brows, confused. I looked from Ian’s serious face back to the painting. “Uh, I see a man and a woman who appear to be moving apart from one another as it rains in the background.”
“Keep going,” he encouraged.
“The man looks to be holding a gift as evidenced by the bow tied around the box. The artist obviously chose to paint this in some abstract form since all of the larger forms are made up of boxes or squares.”
“That’s called cubism. The artist was inspired by the early twentieth century movement that began in Europe.”
I glanced back at Ian, who I expected to be reading from the placard that he’d covered up with his hand. However, I was surprised to see he wasn’t. It was as if he’d memorized the attributes of the painting and the artist’s inspiration.
I looked from this painting to one that was a few feet from it on the same wall. “Tell me about that one,” I stated, jutting my head in the direction of the painting. I unwittingly wrapped my hand around his elbow, letting him lead us both.
“This one is based in impressionism,” he began speaking of the painting.
I listened intently as he described the inspiration for the early impressionists, and how this artist that had painted an image of the space needle, utilizing the light brush strokes of early impressionism. Ian, however, wasn’t much of a fan of that artist’s work, stating it looked like a cheap knockoff. He respected the artists and their efforts, but he also wasn’t one to bite his tongue if he didn’t like something.
I don’t know what captivated me more—the work around the museum, or Ian’s voice as he described each piece we stumbled upon. That was a lie, it was Ian’s voice. It held my rapt attention, effortlessly.
“What are you planning to do after the museum showcase?” I coyly asked Ian about an hour and a half later.
“You.”
My nipples instantly pebbled and the warmth that moved through my entire core was a clear indication that I was a willing participant in his planned activities.
“Zerlinger.”
Turning, I saw the scowling face of a man who seemed somewhat familiar but I couldn’t quite place him. I brought my gaze back to Ian who was scowling back at the man standing just about even with Ian’s six-three frame.
“Aaron, stop being rude. Ian, it’s great to see you again,” a softer, female voice interjected.
I peered directly across from me and was pleasantly surprised to see a petite woman with her hand firmly tucked into the male interloper’s elbow.
“Excuse us. I’m Patience Townsend, and this is my husband, Aaron,” the woman greeted, extending her free hand to me. The friendly smile on her chestnut-toned face made her all the more endearing than her still scowling husband.
“I’m Stacia.”
“Aaron,” Patience nudged.
“Pleasure.” Her husband nodded in my direction before turning his attention back on Ian.
My body shifted when I felt Ian’s arm around my waist, pulling me into him.
“Enjoying the holiday season?” Aaron inquired, but not in a tone one would mistake as friendly.
“About as much as you are,” Ian retorted.
What the hell was with these two? They didn’t quite appear to be adversaries but their tones weren’t that of old friends either.
“I suspected you might be here tonight, Ian. I remembered how much you enjoyed the arts,” Patience added, obviously a better conversationalist than her husband.
Ian nodded. “That I do. Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
“Aaron either.” Patience looked up toward her husband who finally took his eyes off Ian to stare down at her. “He loves these types of things as well, though he’s loathe to admit it.”
My eyes widened in shock when the scowl on Aaron Townsend’s face softened and his eyes seemed to shine a little as he stared at his wife.
“I suspect our Kyle’s going to be somewhat of an artist himself,” Patience turned to say to Ian. “Kyle’s our oldest son,” she told me.
I nodded in understanding. “How old is he?”
“Six and a half. The half is very important.”
I giggled. “I bet it is.”
The four of us made conversation for a little while longer. Well, Patience and I made conversation while the men interjected here and there, before we parted ways.
“She seems nice,” I said to Ian as we departed the museum.
“She is. Too nice for him,” Ian grunted.
“You weren’t exactly a barrel of sunshine in their presence either.”
“If you knew what he’d done to me, you wouldn’t be so quick to come to his defense.” Ian held the town car’s back door open for me to enter.
“I wasn’t defending him. Just pointing out that he wasn’t the only cold one. And why don’t you tell me what he did? That way I can hate him or dislike him as much as you do. That’s what friends do.”
Ian lifted an eyebrow as the driver began pulling off. “It is?”
I nodded. “Of course. If one friend hates someone, then it’s the duty of the other friend to hate the person just as much.”
“What if the person being hated is the friend, relative, or spouse of the person being hated by friend number one?”
I wrinkled my brows in confusion before shaking my head. “Then it gets complicated.” I waved his question off. “We’re not there yet, anyway. Just tell me what Aaron Townsend did to you.”
Ian sat back against the backseat and stared off into space for a little while. “He sided with my brother over me.”
I sat up, fully turning my body to face Ian. “What does that mean?”
He finally turned to look toward me, and I was surprised to see a somewhat shame-faced expression.
“A few years back, my brother and I were running Zerlinger Beer together. We had a difference of opinion on what direction the company should go in. As a result, we nearly split the company in half. Some of our business partners were made to choose sides. As an investor in Zerlinger at the time, Townsend Industries opted to support Bruce, my brother.”
I took in the information. “Ah. So, he bruised your ego?”
Ian turned to me sharply with a narrowed gaze. That expression might’ve intimidated a number of other people. And if I didn’t know him, it would’ve definitely intimidated me. However, at that moment, it merely made me burst out into a giggling fit.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“You. You’re holding a grudge for years, and yet you’ve remained the CEO of Zerlinger Beer. Your brother is nowhere to be found, at least from what I’ve seen. But your bruised ego just can’t let go.” I giggled some more and shook my head. “Men.”
A growling noise came from Ian’s mouth and that caused me to laugh even harder. That is, until I was pulled by my arms into his lap. His firm lips were soon silencing my giggles, replacing them with moans of need. I sighed against his lips.
“We’re done talking about business and my ego,” he growled.
“You won’t get any argument from me.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the car door was opening and Ian was just shy of carrying me out of the car toward the entrance of the hotel we were staying in. I missed the Christmas lights that adorned the hotel’s lobby and entrance way, along with the green and white Christmas trees. I was way too caught up in anticipating the feel of Ian once we were again behind closed doors.