Kissing a Billionaire

by Hart, Taylor

  “The guys didn’t see me as a woman, mind you. I was a girl. I assure you, I earned every single point I was ever given on quizzes, tests, and papers. I earned every single A, and I worked ten times harder than every boy in my undergraduate studies as well as for my PhD. I put myself through school with hard-earned scholarships and multiple jobs. I paid for everything myself, down to my graphing calculator in college-level calculus. For my bachelor’s degree, I graduated fifth in my class—a monumental achievement, considering that I didn’t have blue-blood parents shoveling money to pay for it all.”

  “Quite impressive,” he said with a nod that looked like a king acknowledging a peasant.

  Frustration built ever more inside her chest. “I’m not trying to impress anyone, but I am trying to show you that I am intelligent, I am a hard worker, and I deserve the most basic respect that I suspect you’d show a man in my position. No, more than that. I demand the respect you’d give a man in my position. Understood?”

  They eyed each other in silence for several seconds before Carmichael’s mouth quirked up on one side, as if he was terribly amused. “Understood,” he said, clearly understanding nothing.

  Her research into Carmichael Industries had seemed so promising, but Carmichael had shown himself to be the kind of guy who had no idea of the advantages he had by birth and his family’s financial situation. She’d crossed paths with plenty of his type since the company took off but thought he’d be different. Instead, he was a giant red flag warning her away from the partnership.

  Ulla returned with Sirkku behind her, bearing a tray of breads and cheeses. Sirkku left and came back a moment later with another tray of coffee and mugs. As the food was served and they settled in to eat, Carmichael took a loud sip of his coffee and said, “So you’re aware, I plan to relocate Vista closer to our headquarters.” He lifted an eyebrow as he looked at Lauren. “You can certainly keep an office in Helsinki, but it would be a minor branch, not the main center. This is a much more expensive place to operate a company.” He chuckled to himself. “But I don’t need to tell you that. You’re smart; you understand the basics of profits, yes?” He took another loud sip—or slurp—then set it down. “Seattle has much better coffee.”

  As one, Sirkku and Ulla gasped with offense. Now it was Lauren’s turn to smile. “Finns take their coffee very seriously, and they drink more per capita than anywhere else in the world. It might be best to show respect to my colleagues as well as to me. And I mean about more than coffee, of course.” She shot him a toothless smile that felt as fake as it must have looked.

  She felt the weight of Eric’s gaze on her and inadvertently glanced at him, then quickly away. He seemed rather pleased. Almost giddily so. Did he enjoy seeing his boss get taken down a notch? She couldn’t blame him.

  Lauren pushed her plate away slightly and clasped her hands. “We’re done here. I am sorry to have wasted your time as well as my own.”

  “Pardon me?” Carmichael said. “Did I offend?”

  Oh, if she had no filter and could tell him what she really thought . . .

  “Vista Cosmetics is not moving to Seattle or to anywhere else. It will stay in Helsinki. The company wouldn’t be what it is without the people who have worked so hard right here. They are the reason we have been so successful. Aside from that, I am not about to tell one hundred ninety-two people who have become dear to me that they no longer have jobs.”

  “Oh, come now,” Carmichael said. “I hear the economy in Finland is doing great, and the government here is good at handouts, right? I’m sure your little workers won’t have any problem finding other positions.”

  Lauren could have sworn that steam was bursting from her ears. Yes, Finland had social safety nets to keep people alive between jobs—and the States could learn a thing or two from them on that count, and on several others, but he was missing the point.

  “The people of Vista Cosmetics”—not her little workers, a term that spiked her blood pressure—“are like family to me.”

  No way would she be selling to Carmichael, no matter how handsome he was, no matter how flirtatious he tried to be. Character rarely changed. She’d rather do business with someone who didn’t have the suave appearance of Carmichael but instead had ethics and values that mirrored hers. Someone with integrity. Someone who would do the right thing when no one was watching, who helped others without needing recognition for it. Who cared about other people over his bottom line.

  Someone like Eric. Too bad I can’t do business just with him—and maybe get to know him better . . . Her eyes widened at the unexpected thought, and she blushed. She quickly looked down at the binder where she was taking notes on the meeting. Why wasn’t Ulla swooping in to bring her back to the topic? What was the last topic, anyway?

  Lauren scanned the list she’d printed out earlier, but the text might as well have turned into hieroglyphics. She felt her eyes being drawn toward Eric, and next thing she knew, she was looking at him. Only for a second, but he seemed to sense her gaze, because he looked up too, and their eyes met across the table. He smiled warmly before Carmichael asked for an explanation about the profit and loss statement they were looking at.

  I can’t partner with Eric, she thought, but maybe I can find someone like him. Finding the right person could take a long time. Months. Maybe years.

  She wanted to move forward soon, but she couldn’t without knowing that the company she’d created from the ground up would be in good hands. That her employees would be taken care of, that the products would remain of the highest quality, and that the charitable efforts would continue.

  Only then would she feel free to return to her lab.

  What might she create when she finally got to spend every day there for weeks or months on end? She didn’t know yet. An idea would come when she had the time and resources to put into it. But she knew one thing: she’d work on something that would make a difference.

  “Ten o’clock tomorrow morning?” Carmichael tapped the edge of a handful of papers to even them out as he stood from the conference-room table.

  “See you then,” Lauren said, though she would likely cancel the meeting altogether. Three hours with Carmichael had accomplished exactly one thing: convince her firmly that she could not bear to have this man come anywhere near her business.

  He’d trash it, discard it, turn it into something it was never supposed to be, and he’d do it after dumping the gorgeous building she’d renovated for her headquarters and dumping nearly two hundred employees. And to what end? To increase profits by having the company based in a cheaper area.

  She’d never been about cheap. Quality mattered, in products and in employees. A staff of dedicated and creative employees mattered so much more than where on the planet they were located. She knew every employee by name and considered many of them dear friends.

  In contrast, Carmichael cared about little other than his bottom line. And if his behavior at the airport yesterday and again today was any indication, he believed his good looks and charm would win over any woman, no matter the situation, but especially in the business world.

  What he didn’t understand was that Lauren wasn’t a businesswoman at heart. She was a scientist, one who’d stumbled into the business world after years in the lab. She’d conducted countless experiments, refining her products until they were so good that they practically sold themselves.

  The financial windfall had been a blessing to her, and when the profits exceeded her needs by several zeros, she started making what became the company’s regular donations. She never wanted to create her own charity or foundation; Vista already took too much of her time for her to take on one more thing. And she didn’t make her donations automatic, either. She had a team who researched each charity, tracked its progress and responsibility and spending and how much they helped their target communities, and based on their reports, she often switched up which ones Vista donated to.

  One more thing Carmichael would eliminate, given the chance. A
s Lauren gathered up her papers, she couldn’t help but picture the woman in India who’d gotten a microcredit loan from one of Vista’s donations. The woman needed a new pair of sharp scissors for her sewing business. The dull ones made her work laborious, difficult, and less precise. The new scissors enabled her to increase the output of her sewing business tenfold. She repaid the loan within a month, and a year later, she moved into a nice apartment with her three children, away from a hut made from corrugated metal. All thanks to a tiny loan and a pair of scissors.

  Standing from the table, Lauren closed her laptop and set the papers on top, determined to keep Carmichael far from Vista. He tossed his head as a goodbye as he and Eric left the conference room. She waited for them to leave, setting her emotions aside and thinking ahead to how she’d partner with another company, how she needed to speak with her international lawyer about how to set things up so that any future partner would be required to continue the charitable giving.

  From the lobby, she heard the elevator ding, so she waited a few seconds, until she was sure that the men had gotten on and left, before she headed out of the conference room toward her office. Ulla followed close behind in her wheelchair, though Lauren was so deep in her own thoughts that she forgot about her until she spoke.

  “You don’t have to find a partner, remember,” Ulla said.

  They’d just reached Lauren’s office, and they paused at the door. “Yes, I do,” Lauren said. “I’m proud of Vista, and I’m happy with how it’s going and with how much good it’s doing in the world, but . . .”

  “But you miss the lab,” Ulla said with a knowing nod.

  “Yeah,” Lauren said. She gestured toward her outfit. “I wasn’t meant to wear business clothes. I want to wear a lab coat, wear my hair back, with goggles and gloves.” She sighed. “I don’t fit in the business world.”

  “You are good at it, though,” Ulla countered. “And you’re good for it, too.”

  “Maybe.” Lauren leaned against the door frame. “The longer I’m in it, the more I feel like I’m dying inside.”

  “You’ll figure out what to do,” Ulla said, turning her wheelchair around to head back down the hall toward her own office.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Ulla looked over her shoulder and grinned. “I’m a Finnish woman. I’m always right.”

  Lauren laughed to herself as she went into her office. She dropped into her chair and stared out the window at the skyline. She needed to create and experiment to live as surely as she needed oxygen and water. Just as art filled up the life and soul of a painter, and words and sonnets filled the soul of a poet, microscopes and beakers and the possibility of discovery filled her.

  Man, she missed those things with a deep ache. She had no idea what she’d play with—rather, experiment on—next time she had an extended period in a lab, but she didn’t worry about finding something. Curiosity and questions—the what-ifs of the world—always showed up when she needed them. She’d tamped down the what-ifs sparking inside her while trying to keep the company growing and thriving, but going so long without chasing down those sparks and coaxing them into a flame had left her feeling like a cave—dark and empty.

  The thought reminded her of the time she’d gone on a tour of a labyrinth of caves in the Rockies, on a vacation visiting cousins who lived in Harvest Valley. She’d climbed a path with a group of relatives, then went on a tour through what had to be half a mile or more of interconnected caves with fascinating and beautiful formations. She’d never forget the moment the ranger who acted as their tour guide had turned off the light bulb that illuminated a particularly large cavern.

  The darkness had been so complete that it felt like a weighted blanket draped over her. She’d looked to her left, to her right, and in front, and could see absolutely nothing, not even a hint of a darker shape of any of the people in front of her. She’d lifted her hand before her face, spread her fingers, wiggled them, turned her hand about, palm out, and was amazed that she could see absolutely nothing.

  That’s how she felt now—empty and dark. She needed something to light her up again, like the single light bulb that the ranger finally turned back on before clicking on his flashlight and leading them to the next area.

  She could get the spark back sooner if she partnered with Carmichael, but every cell in her body protested that idea. She’d sleep on it and decide more in the morning. But today, she could have Ulla start researching more deeply into some of the other candidates they’d considered alongside Carmichael. Excited over the prospect of finding a new partner soon—and not postponing her return to the lab again—she hurried out of her office toward Ulla’s.

  The hall opened to the lobby and reception area, which Lauren headed across. Right then the elevator dinged, the silver door slid open, and there was Eric on the other side, leaning against the mirrored back wall, reading a book—an actual paper book.

  He caught her eye and waved as he stepped out of the elevator. “Lauren!”

  She swallowed what would have been a high-pitched eep of surprise, then tried to relax. “Eric, you’re back.” Her voice sounded a bit too breathy, so she cleared her throat. “Did Carmichael need something?” Why else would his assistant come back after their meeting? She peered around him as the elevator closed, expecting to see Carmichael inside.

  “No, he’s good,” Eric said. He slipped a candy wrapper—what looked suspiciously like a Fazer Blue—into the book to mark his spot. “Do you mind if I use your locker room?”

  “Sure,” Lauren said. “You’re welcome to use the gym and the sauna, too.”

  “The . . .”

  “Sauna,” she said, then realized he probably didn’t recognize the term with the correct pronunciation. “The SAW-nuh?”

  “Oh, no.” He shook his head and laughed. “Don’t think I’ll be doing that.”

  After her own cultural education, Lauren was determined to pass along the knowledge to anyone she could about sauna, and that meant more than how to say the word.

  “It’s not some lewd, crude, gross thing,” she said. “In fact, for centuries, Finns viewed the sauna as a sacred place. They’d build a sauna before a house. That’s where their women gave birth and where they brought their loved ones to die.”

  “Really?” Eric said, looking genuinely interested.

  “Really.” Lauren’s excitement over sharing something she loved bubbled up. “And before Christianity came here, they believed that spirits dwelt in the sauna, and people with magic could cast spells from saunas.”

  Eric’s expression had shifted to one of curiosity. “What exactly happens in a Finnish sauna? Is there a little wizard inside?” He gave a little smile at that, knowing he was being ridiculous.

  “Go inside and see. I could get Mikko from accounting to show you the ropes.”

  “Tempting,” Eric said. “But not right now.”

  “Are you going to work out, or just shower, or . . .” Suddenly, his need to use the company locker room seemed odd. Had Carmichael sent Eric back to spy for him? Would he reject Vista Cosmetics before Lauren could reject Carmichael Industries?

  “I just need to, um, change clothes. And stuff.” He looked unsure how to go on, so he didn’t.

  While her suspicion wasn’t quelled, her curiosity was certainly piqued. “What are you going to change into? No, wait. Let me guess. At night you become a drag queen.”

  He rolled his eyes and laughed, but he also blushed, which only encouraged her to go on.

  “Should I see if the women’s locker room is empty? The lighting in there is better for makeup.” Now she outright grinned with her teeth. “I should warn you that the cobblestones downtown are murder on high heels.”

  Eric got a glint of mischievousness in his eye. “Actually, you got part of it right.”

  “Wait, what?” Lauren felt one of her eyebrows go up so high that it was probably near her hairline. Now it was her turn to blush.

  He glanced at the clock on the wall
behind her. “In half an hour, I’m supposed to be at the HUS children’s hospital.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “I’m . . .” He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair—something Carmichael would be incapable of with his helmet of products keeping every hair stuck in place like glue.

  “You’re . . . what?” Lauren took a step closer, and when he didn’t retreat, she realized she’d encroached on someone else’s personal space. A man’s. A stranger’s. But she kind of liked being this close to Eric, and he didn’t seem to mind.

  “I’m . . . a . . . clown.” A bunch of words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. “Would you like to come with me? I visit children’s hospitals and cheer kids up.”

  As much as she liked the idea of spending a little more time with Eric—not billionaire Carmichael—she had no desire to spend time with a clown, even if that clown was Eric. She’d rather be doomed to eat Hershey’s for the rest of her life. She blamed Stephen King and watching It a few too many times.

  “I’m not a freaky clown like Pennywise,” Eric said, as if he could read her mind. Her face must have registered surprise, because he added, “A lot of people are afraid of clowns because of that movie. But I swear, I’m not scary. You could watch me put on the makeup.”

  “I think I’ll pass. Men’s locker room and all . . .” She gripped her phone a bit tighter and smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

  She moved to step past him to reach Ulla’s office, but he touched her shoulder. He didn’t grab her or force her to stop and listen. It was just a touch, a light weight on her shoulder, one that felt warm and kind. Despite herself, Lauren looked at his hand, then raised her gaze to his.

  “Come with me to the hospital,” he said. “You can help translate so I don’t get lost or make a fool out of myself because I don’t know what they’re saying.”

  “I don’t know that much Finnish,” she confessed. “A few words and phrases, mostly. You won’t need me, though. You can always find an English speaker in Helsinki, and medical professionals really know their English.”