Chapter 14

Linny

I gaze across the conference table at Trent Morrison. He rushed into the office at three o’clock sharp with his suit jacket in his hand and his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

He was muttering something about hating the subway and the asshole that took his car away.

I ignored all of that as I approached him at reception and introduced myself.

Before I could ask him if he needed a few minutes to compose himself, Mitchell appeared and took Trent’s sweaty palm in his own for an overzealous handshake.

As the two men made their way down the long corridor to the conference room, I followed in silence.

I know from experience if Mitchell talks long enough he’s bound to say something offensive.

He did when he introduced Trent as Trent Morris to my dad.

Trent jumped in to correct him with a scowl and an eye roll.

Thankfully, the sight of the large green tea I had delivered for him was enough to bring a smile back to Mr. Morrison’s face.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready, Trent.” My dad taps the palm of his hand on the top of the wooden conference table. “We’ve got some ideas for the launch that we’re looking forward to sharing with you.”

Trent looks at my dad. “I take it you all sampled the product.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mitchell nodding his head. “Thanks again for that bottle you sent over this morning, Trent. I poured a shot for almost everyone in the office. The consensus is that it’s the best we’ve ever tasted.”

Almost everyone?

The jerk didn’t include me in his pre-meeting drinking party.

“I admit that I’ve been a fan of your traditional vodka for years,” my dad says with a grin. “I’ll be switching to this new one as soon as it hits store shelves.”

Trent turns his attention to me. “What about you, Linny? What did you think of it?”

I feel Mitchell’s gaze burning into me, but I ignore him and focus on Trent. “I wanted to wait for you to arrive before I took my first taste. I’d love if you’d join me in a toast to the future of Rizon.”

“I’m up for that.” He scans the room. “Where’s the bottle?”

I’m already texting a message to Hal, Mitchell’s assistant, asking him to bring the bottle to the conference room along with four shot glasses. His response is instant. He’s on his way.

“It’s arriving at any moment.” I place my phone back on the table. “If we had some caviar to go with it I’d be in heaven. I wish that place on Amsterdam and Seventy-Eighth delivered.”

“Mysa Caviar Bar?” Trent flashes me a wide smile. “You’re a fan too?”

I’ve never been, but Trent is a regular. According to the pictures posted to his Instagram account, he’s there at least once a week.

A soft knock at the door saves me from having to bluff my way through a conversation about Mysa.

Just as my dad pushes to his feet, Mitchell shouts, “Why the hell are you knocking? Just come in, Hal.”

Fighting off a grin, I drop my gaze to my lap.

No one can ever accuse Mitchell of being a top-notch professional. I’m hopeful Trent is keeping a running tally of my performance versus my stepbrother’s, so when we do land this account, I’ll be the one spearheading it.

The door opens before my dad is halfway around the table. He stops in place as Mitchell hurriedly rises to his feet.

“You should always knock before you open a door.”
My head shoots up at the sound of the masculine voice. It’s not Hal’s. This voice is deep, raspy and achingly familiar.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not Hal.” He adjusts his silver necktie. “I’m Jeremy Weston, the owner of Rizon Vodka.”

Holy shit, it’s him.

The man I slept with in Las Vegas is standing in the doorway.

He’s as gorgeous as I remember.

Everything about him is insanely sexy right down to his dark brown eyes. He’s surveying the room, taking in each face. When he reaches mine, he stops to stare.

“I didn’t know you’d be joining us, Mr. Weston.” My dad rushes toward him with his hand outstretched. “I’m David Faye.”

“It’s a pleasure, David.” His mouth curves up in a smile as he glances at me again.

“I brought the vodka.” Hal appears behind West with a wooden tray in his hands. “Should I get another glass?”

“Yes,” Mitchell hisses as he pushes his hand into West’s. “I’m Mitchell Bilton. I’ll be taking the reins on this project, Mr. Weston. I can assure you that I’m going to make certain that every person in the Tri-State area knows about Rizon Vodka.”

Since the launch is nationwide, I should be thrilled that Mitchell has put his foot in his mouth again, but I don’t feel anything but shock at the sight of the man I spent the most memorable night of my life with.

“You arrived just in time for our toast.” Mitchell takes the tray from Hal. “As I was telling Trent, Rizon vanilla is the best vodka I’ve ever sampled.”

West doesn’t acknowledge him at all. He stands in silence with his gaze pinned to me.

How is this real?

I never thought I’d see him again after our night in Vegas.

Mitchell places the tray on the table and starts pouring out shots. When he reaches the last glass, he holds the open bottle in his hand.

“Where is Hal?” he asks impatiently to no one in particular. “We need another glass.”

West looks around the room before his gaze falls back on the glasses on the tray. “There are enough.”

“We’re one short.” Mitchell points at everyone as if he’s counting to himself. “Five people. Four shot glasses. We need another.”

West rests both hands on the conference table and locks eyes with me. “You haven’t changed your stance on day drinking have you?”

Shit.

Faye & Sons has a strict policy that prohibits anyone in the company from being romantically involved with a client. My dad put that in place after Mitchell fucked up. He literally fucked the wife of a major client. We lost the account, but my stepbrother managed to hold onto his job by his fingernails.

After that disaster, everyone who works at Faye & Sons had to sign an amendment to their employment contract that stated that they would be subject to significant repercussions if they engage in a sexual relationship with a current client.

I can’t tell my dad I know West. I sure as hell can’t confess to sleeping with the man in Las Vegas, not after what happened the last time I was there.

I push back from my chair and stand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Weston. As much as I hate admitting this in front of my father, I’m not opposed to day drinking.”

My dad and Trent both let out a laugh.

West doesn’t.

He doubles down. “We’ve met before.”

I shake my head and lie through my teeth. “We haven’t.”

“I have the extra glass,” Hal announces as he steps into the conference room. “You’re all set.”

West looks back at Hal before he turns toward me again. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Linny,” I say quietly. “I’m Linny Faye.”

West reaches out his hand. “I look forward to working with you, Linny.”

I hesitate before I take his hand in mine, knowing that my body is going to react. My nipples are already hard and aching from the sound of his voice and the look in his eyes.

The moment I feel my hand brush his, wild desire races through me. I pull back and close my eyes to try and quiet the need to touch more of him.

“It’s time to toast. Everyone grab a glass.” Mitchell’s voice cuts through the air.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes to find West smiling with two shot glasses in his hands. He offers one to me. I try to calm my shaking hand as I reach for it but it’s futile.

He lifts his glass in the air, clinking it against mine. “To Vegas nights and New York days. Both are better with…”

“Rizon vanilla vodka,” Trent interrupts.

I bring my glass to my lips and down the vodka in one swallow.

West watches intently, waiting until I place the glass down on the table before he leans closer and whispers, “Both are better with an angel.”

My heart thuds as I look past him to where my dad, Mitchell, and Trent are gathered in a huddle pouring another round.

“I know it’s you,” West says smoothly. “You’re a woman no man could ever forget.”