Chapter Two
Brandon
“Daddy, please!”
I eyed my daughter. Truth be told, I was a complete pushover when it came to Tammy, and everyone knew that. Especially Tammy.
Tall like her mother at almost six feet, I’d been blessed that she had no interest in following in her mother’s modeling footsteps. I knew the kind of guys who hit on models. Hell, I was that guy and had happily returned to that lifestyle since my divorce a decade ago. There was no way in hell I was letting my little girl be passed around backstage at events or who the fuck knew where.
Oblivious to the path my thoughts had taken, she rolled her eyes and pushed her long dark hair over one shoulder. She’d look more professional for her summer internship work if she ever pinned it up, but she was stubborn too. I can’t imagine where she got that from.
“I’m serious, Dad.” She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, so I wasn’t sure how serious she actually was. “I’ve been on you for two weeks to interview my friend, Selena. You need to do it.”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. To be fair, my daughter had never once asked for a favor for her friends. She’d never seemed the type to use nepotism to climb up the corporate or social ladder. I appreciated that. I hadn’t built Duncan Multimedia up to billion-dollar heights when other former print-only empires lay crumbling in the dust. Embracing the Internet early and fast back in the Dark Ages of dial-up had saved my shit. I trusted my gut, and my gut had seen the wave of the future. Right now, it told me that mixing anything business with Tammy’s friends was a terrible idea. I loved my daughter, and she was a gifted creative writer in her own right, but there was no guarantee her friend had any talent.
I could be taking on a complete dud.
“I’m not sure I’m convinced, pumpkin.” I steepled my fingers in front of me. “Why should I give Sandy an interview again?”
“First, it’s Selena. Second, she’s the lead editor of the NYU student paper already, and she’s not even a senior. My bestie, she totally knows her crap. So, you need to snag her up and put her on writing the fashion beat for Swagger.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. I had a bit of pull in newspapers. We’d gotten out of them since they were a dying dinosaur, but I knew The New York Times editor-in-chief well. I could have made a call there.
“What?” my daughter demanded.
“It’s just that if she’s already an editor at NYU, why would she do the fashion beat?”
“I said she was driven and a great writer. I didn’t have time yet to mention she has a killer fashion sense. Not every writer wants to be Woodward and Bernstein. Anyway, she hasn’t landed anything that pays enough yet since she’s putting herself through school, and she’d be perfect for Swagger’s slot. Daddy, you have to at least meet her.”
“And it has to be me? You do know I have a whole human resources team.” I snorted. “I certainly pay them well enough.”
She narrowed her eyes, and I got a scary flash of Melanie, my ex-wife. There were a lot of ways Tammy and my ex were alike, and I often got the sense of déjà vu looking at my daughter. Of course, I could tell the difference between them mainly by the way that Tammy had given me a chance after the divorce. My wife all but said I should drop dead every time we met during the mutual family things we did for Tammy’s sake.
Yeah, big fucking difference there.
“You have to do it because I want you to really see how talented my friend is. She’s the best, and I think if you really, truly grasp that and back her, it’ll help her career even more than just the usual human resources bullshit.”
“Language!”
“I’m twenty, not five. Also, Dad? You swear like a Jersey Shore guido.”
“I do not.”
I was not some reality show meathead. That said, I was a big fucking fan of curse words. There were some things that you couldn’t get across without the right language. But I still had some paternal instincts, even if I wasn’t exactly a disciplinarian where Tammy was concerned. If she really wanted to make it in publishing and business, she’d need to learn when to wield her swears like swords for a killing stroke, and when to wait. Otherwise?
It was a fucking waste.
“Point is, she’s awesome. She’ll be here in twenty minutes because we are not doing lunch today, and you will do this.” She smirked at me in triumph.
“You tricky kiddo. What makes you think that I’ll go along with your nefarious plans?” I asked, the amusement clear in my voice.
“Because my birthday is in two months, and you can consider this part of my present.”
“So, I’m canceling that Sak’s Fifth Avenue shopping spree?”
She shook her head. “As if. I said part of my present, not all. Get ready. Selena’s in the lobby. Get all game face on and be ready to be blown away.”
With that, she stomped back out the door. The view of her back after she’d made a dramatic proclamation reminded me of her mother too. Sighing, I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. The last thing I needed to do was interview a girl I didn’t know from a mailroom employee. Then again, my daughter was smart—of course, she got that from me—and now that Tammy had canceled lunch, I legitimately had nowhere else to be.
Damn it. Too fucking smart for her own good.
The door creaked open, and I stood up instantly, buttoning the front of my blazer. Might as well get this over with and then go back to my work. After all, I could bluster a good game, but my little girl always got what she wanted. Maybe that was shit parenting, but back when Tammy was in middle school, she’d refused to talk to me for the first three years after the divorce. That changed when I bought her a horse and finally got better when I paid for her to see Europe the summer after she turned sixteen. Maybe I was bribing a little… Okay, a lot, but once she’d opened back up to me, we’d built back a real relationship.
If this Selena seemed like a total no go, then I could still put her into a high paying internship at Swagger, but make sure she did nothing more harmful than getting coffee. After all, it was good to be king and ensure that my interests didn’t get totally ruined, no matter what my princess wanted.
I frowned when I turned to see my CFO, Jonathan Meyers, at the doorway instead. Well, Tammy had mentioned that Selena was going to be in after a few more minutes. Though I wasn’t sure why she was making me wait. They’d already strong-armed me into it. Could be the girl was scared of interviewing or bad at it. Could explain why someone with her resume wasn’t getting bites. My best friend and right-hand man stared pointedly at me as he raked a hand through his sandy blond hair.
“You’re babysitting today?”
“I was having lunch with Tammy, which just became a free run on nepotism and sinecures. It’s not a big deal.”
Jonathan chuckled. “It’s always a big deal. First, you hate being told what to do.”
“True, but I have to make exceptions for Tammy. Damn that kid starts to tear up, and I’d buy her a new penthouse.”
“Don’t say that in earshot of her or you’ll find yourself doling out for a Central Park view you don’t even get to regularly enjoy,” Jonathan said. “An intern is an intern. They’re a dime a dozen in any business, but it’s a slippery slope. You always said that Duncan Multimedia was different and part of that is because for twenty years our board doesn’t pull the same self-serving bullshit that gets Enron or whatever else dead and fast. Or worse, shit PR.”
I rolled my eyes. Now I knew what Jonathan was angling at. “This is about you being paranoid over the Orbit Channel merger? Seriously? I’m interviewing one of her friends for five minutes and then giving her a form to take to HR to get fast-tracked to her first day. I’m not holding an open season to hire everyone’s best friends and deadbeat nephews here.”
“Precedents.” Jonathan shrugged. “But that’s not why I’m worried.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “I saw both girls come in and wait in front of your secretary’s desk. I mean, shit, Brandon, I’ve known you for the better part of three decades.”
“Yeah, make me feel more like fifty.”
“Forty-seven. God knows you never let me forget it and act like you’re fifteen.”
“Peter Pan is my role model.” I deadpanned. “What’s your point?”
“Selena’s hot—completely your type. I’m worried about you seeing her and thinking with your dick.”
“I’m perfectly capable of not thinking with my dick until this merger is finished. I know Orbit’s owners have set ideas about the right image for partners they align with. They’re just a little weird. Besides, my dick? Happily satisfied every night and with whoever I want.” I cracked my knuckles. “I’m not exactly hunting for a good time.”
Jonathan shook his head. “This girl’s a knockout. Just don’t fuck things up. I’ve spent eight months on this deal, and I don’t want one of your typical lapses in judgment to dick it all over.”
“I’m not some bastard who can’t keep focused.”
“Not exactly, but there’s a reason I’m here to keep you in line too. You remember the fountain incident three years ago?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think we’d get caught.”
“Well, Rupert Martindale of Orbit has eyes and ears everywhere. So, interview this girl, rubber stamp it all you want, but don’t take a taste.”
“I’d never hurt Tammy like that. I mean, fuck. You’re making out like this girl’s a perfect ten.”
Jonathan whistled. “For your taste buds? She’s totally the perfect drug. Do you want me to sit in on the interview too? Just in case?”
“You have a teleconference with good old Martindale in ten, so I don’t think that’d help. Besides, you wouldn’t want to watch all the passionate, stupidly obvious sex I’m about to have.” Okay, so I was a little huffy, but I’m not some walking prick. I can handle my shit. Granted, a few times I’d overindulged or done crazy things publicly, but it had been years since the fountain incident and over five since that glass elevator and… Shit.
Jonathan did have a point.
I hated when he was right.
So, naturally, like the hardheaded idiot I was, I dug in.
“I can handle one little girl all by myself. Now send her in.”
***
I could admit it.
My ego had gotten me into roughly a metric fuck ton of problems in my life. Granted, the reason I was a damn brilliant CEO was because I had a great gut, surrounded myself with the best teams, and was just smart enough to jump back out of any mistakes I’d made, but my ego had driven me to dumbassery more than once. When Selena walked in the door, I knew exactly why Jonathan had been nervous. And why my dick was instantly hard.
She wasn’t dressed in anything less than utterly professional wear. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun, and she had a blazer, white blouse, and narrow skirt on. It wasn’t too tight, but it definitely hugged her curves in ways that made me want to clear my desk and take her right then and there. I crossed my ankle over my knee and told my little head to shut the fuck up. Would have helped if the blood wasn’t flowing like the Colorado River down to my cock. She was totally proper and prim, screamed “kid on her first interview,” and yet she was also rocking this naughty librarian vibe that my brain could not get over. Add in her olive colored skin, ample chest, and her sparkling hazel eyes, and she made most of the women I’d been seeing lately seem like fucking Quasimodos.
Idly, I wondered if the only reason this girl wasn’t into more than just writing about fashion was that at barely five feet, she could never model for anything. Too bad, because Selena was clearly a goddess.
A goddess who’s twenty-one at best, my daughter’s best friend, and just some college kid. Come on, don’t think with your dick again, man. Don’t give Jonathan the satisfaction.
And Jonathan was always the type who’d want to rub it in.
“Hello, Mr. Duncan. I really appreciate you meeting me on short notice.”
Her voice was hushed, and that struck me too. In fact, things started to actually pierce my attention, even through my lust-filled haze. She was saying all the right things as I took her hand and gestured for her to sit in the chair in front of my desk, but her eyes didn’t come close to looking at mine, and her voice trembled.
Did she even want to be here or had Tammy pushed her into it?
I frowned and quirked my head at her. “Why are you here, Miss?”
“Selena Cole,” she said. “I’m sorry if Tammy kind of threw this at you. I’ve… It’s just been a long day, already, and she decided this would be the best thing. I know that it’s kind of a fast pressure thing, but I have my portfolio with me.” She picked up her messenger bag and pulled out a bundle of papers. “I have some of the pieces I’ve written for the paper and some directly from the fashion blog I maintain. I also have a few pieces I’ve just edited for other students.”
I perused the articles. The ones for NYU were more about student affairs or even current issues and had a drier tone, but I was pleasantly surprised to find a sardonic edge to her fashion blog articles. The girl who’d written those pieces had spine, gumption. The girl before me, gorgeous as she was, seemed to lack that spark. As much as I cared about my daughter, I wondered if I was getting played. It just didn’t seem that the nervous girl in front of me, who frankly looked like her dog had just died, could be the same sarcastic wit behind these fashion pieces.
And no, I didn’t know shit about fashion, but I knew what made me chuckle.
What I liked.
Still, uneasy, I pushed the papers back to her. “I know that Tammy made big promises, and I confess what she’s told me about your training is encouraging. I went to NYU too, and I know they have some proud institutions, like their paper. Not just anyone’s going to be the lead editor on it.”
She frowned, a ridge emerging between her brows. “That tone doesn’t exactly say ‘Welcome to Swagger.’ ”
“No, it doesn’t. The truth is that dedication and training and talent are all things that matter, and they’re important. But so are instincts and attitude. My instincts are telling me that you can’t be the woman who wrote these pieces because, frankly, you look like you want to be anywhere else.”
“I want to be here!” she said. Something intense finally blazed in her eyes; a fire that made me take notice. It didn’t help make me any less hard either. “You have no right to cast judgment on me like this.”
“It’s a job interview. I have every right to question your dedication. I know Tammy, sometimes she stampedes into things. Her intentions are good, but she goes ahead even if someone hasn’t even signed off on it. These are long, hard hours. You’ll be doing fourteen-hour days all summer just like any regular Swagger go-getter. If you’re listless here, then I can’t help but assume that you’ll act like a zombie on the job.”
She shook her head and balled her hands up into fists at her sides as she paced. Considering the heels she’d put on to compensate for her short stature, I was pretty impressed. She definitely wasn’t the type to trip.
“How dare you. You know how much of a go-getter I am? I work every day, all day. I put myself through school and have loans coming out of my ass. I spend at least five hours all day, every day, working on the NYU paper and at least two on a blog with over five thousand subscribers. Sometimes I don’t sleep more than four hours a night. I love fashion, I know a hell of a lot about it, and if that’s not good enough for you, then I don’t know what is.” She was panting by the time she finished, and I couldn’t help but notice the way it made her amazing chest heave.
I’d been wrong.
There was passion there, lying just under the surface.
I stood up and circled around my desk. I couldn’t help but be moved by her outburst. Maybe I’d pushed her too far, but I’d seen something now; something that made me want her for more than her banging body. She had something deep there, something hungry. I hadn’t seen a woman with that much raw hunger and dedication to her life’s passions in a long time.
It was like a burst of fresh air.
Striding over to her, I placed my hand on her cheek. Selena appeared startled but didn’t move away from me. Her skin was warm against my palm, and my heart raced. I wanted her, craved her already like a damn drug, but I was even more curious than I was desperate for her.
“What’s going on?”
“I think I get to ask that question,” she hissed. Still, she didn’t pull away from me. “You’re a terrible interviewer. Do you do that to all your employees?”
I leaned closer to her. I wasn’t even sure what the fuck I was doing. Maybe I could chalk it up later to some clichéd midlife crisis. All I knew was that there was something fierce inside of Selena calling to me, both her drive and something wounded deep. It felt familiar.
“You’re assuming you’re going to become an employee,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I was so close that my breath landed on her cheek. “Why were you so out of it when you got here? Do you want this job? After all, who are you really, Selena?”
She swallowed hard but kept her focus on me, seemingly refusing to back down. “I’m a damn fine writer and editor, and you’ll be getting me at a steal this summer. Now, did I get the job or not?”
I couldn’t resist anymore; not that I’d put up much of a fight. My cock was throbbing, and I wanted her; wanted to taste her more than I’d wanted practically anything else in my life. Then, my lips were on hers, my tongue probing her own. She tasted of strawberries and mint, both clean and fruity.
It took everything I had not to grind against her, not to take this any further.
She hesitated for just a moment as I continued but then her mouth opened wider and her arms wrapped around my shoulders. Selena was returning the kiss, her lips grazing mine, her tongue dancing with mine. The intensity built between us. My hand went lower, cupping her ass, and then she stilled.
Finally, she broke away from me.
Her eyes were wide as she stared back at me, dazed. “What… Oh, I never do that. This isn’t me. We were fighting and oh my God! Tammy is going to kill me.”
That killed my libido dead; my erection finally under some fucking control. Saying Tammy’s name was like having a gallon of ice water poured down my pants and smothering my cock. My shoulders went rigid, but I didn’t back away from Selena. I didn’t want to. Whatever was happening between us was something I hadn’t felt in years, and I wasn’t about to lose that now.
“It’s… Sometimes crazy things happen,” I offered, knowing I had to tread carefully.
“You had your tongue down my throat. I think that’s more than just a crazy thing,” she admitted.
“Look, your writing is excellent, and you argued your case. You have twenty-four hours.” I spun around coolly and headed back to my desk. It was a struggle to try and get a sense of equilibrium back into everything, but I’d been a cutthroat CEO for the better part of twenty years. And I’d fucking well better stay in control.
“What?”
“You have one day, Miss Cole. You can come back on Wednesday morning early and take that job, or you can leave it. I think it’d be in your best interest to take this opportunity, but it’s all up to you.” I took my seat and smirked back at her, working to retake control and the upper hand. “Are you really going to walk away from the job of a lifetime?”
Selena took in a sharp breath before she glared at me, that fire back in her hazel eyes. “You really think I’ll take the job after all of this?”
“Miss Cole, I’m counting on it.”