Chandler

by Laurelin Paige

  “I asked about the square footage, but that’s not my business and I should get to the point.” She looks so young right now, so innocent. I’d thought maybe twenty-five when I first met her. Now, even in her professional attire, I’d say she’s possibly younger.

  It makes me feel more predatory. I watch her every move as she paces the room, ready to devour her.

  Finally, she plops down in a chair facing Hudson’s desk and crosses one long leg over the other. Then she frowns. “I’m not sure how to begin.”

  I don’t understand all she said, but man, do I understand that last bit. Having so little experience with repeats, I’m at a loss myself. Are we supposed to talk first? Just start going at it? Is she going to think this makes us a couple?

  Does it?

  So many questions. She has to be just as confused as I am.

  You know what? This is new, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stick to a business model of operation. I’m going full disclosure.

  Sitting on the edge of Hudson’s desk, I make my declaration. “You don’t need to say anything more. I was actually in the process of trying to find you myself.”

  “You were?”

  “I was.” God, it’s so sexy how she arches her brow like that. Full disclosure for the win. Maybe more of it will get me an even bigger reward. “Genevieve, I’m not usually like this, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about our night together. You’ve taken over my head like a drug, and I…”

  I hesitate, not because I’m unsure, but because I’m surprised how sure I am. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d really love to see you again.”

  “Oh.” She’s surprised too. It’s in her body language, in her tone of voice. “Oh,” she says again, more acceptant.

  Acceptant, but it’s not really an answer. “I’m not sure if that’s a yes…?”

  She sighs, her lips twisting before she responds. Then she says, “Would you be entirely offended if it’s not?”

  Uh…“What?”

  I heard her wrong. There’s no other option.

  But now she’s brushing her hair behind her ear in a way that seems to mean I’m trying to be polite. “I had a lovely time with you, Chandler.” Because, duh. “But I’m not interested in a date.”

  Ah! This makes more sense. She’s not looking for a relationship. Neither am I—I don’t think.

  I’ll clarify. “You misunderstood me. A date wasn’t what I was interested in either. I was thinking more like a replay.”

  “I didn’t misunderstand. I knew exactly what you meant. I was trying to find a less abrupt way of saying I’d rather not another time, thank you.”

  Again…“What?”

  Her expression is tight. Uncomfortable. Apologetic. “I really didn’t mean to lead you on.”

  “You didn’t. Just. I’m confused.” Sure I’ve heard the didn’t-mean-to-lead-you-on speech, but not when all we’re talking about is getting between the sheets. I swear we’re miscommunicating somehow.

  I stand and circle to the opposite side of the desk. Placing my knuckles on the surface, I lean toward her. “You’re saying you don’t want to have sex with me again. Am I getting this right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  In a daze, I sink into the chair behind me. “Why?”

  “Do I have to have a reason?” My silence tells her that, yes, she has to have a goddamn reason, so after a pause, she continues. “Okay, well, I wasn’t that into the whole thing, if you must know.”

  I don’t understand. I tell her, “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m saying it was a good time, but not good enough to want to do it again.”

  “Not ‘good enough’?” There’s a part of me that can step outside myself and see that I sound like a moron. I hear myself talking. I totally catch the idiocy.

  And yet, I can’t seem to pull myself together.

  It’s embarrassing. For both of us.

  Genevieve is at least nice about it. “God, this is awkward. I’m so sorry, Chandler.”

  The way she says my name gets me in the gut. It sounds so damn sexy. Is she doing that on purpose? Teasing me with her off-the-charts sensuality in the same breath that she tells me it’s off limits?

  No. This isn’t what’s happening. She enjoyed herself that night. I was there. I know. Like hell am I not reminding her. “You had an orgasm though. You had several.”

  She shrugs. “And?”

  My jaw drops. She climaxed three freaking times from the magic of Chandler “Generous Lover” Pierce. How is this even a question?

  She seems to sense my confusion. “You know,” she says slowly, as if explaining to a child, “sex is like pizza. Even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.”

  “That was not bad sex.” Irrefutable. Case closed.

  She tugs at her hair as she sighs. “Honestly, I’m sure it wasn’t. I’m unfortunately one of those unique creatures who never feels satisfied.” I open my mouth to say maybe she just needs more orgasms, but she guesses what I’m going to say and says, “No matter how many times I climax. It’s me, not you, Chandler. Trite words, but the truth. On the plus side, I’m able to sit here and not be distracted by your genitalia, which seems to be the opposite for you. Looks like I have the upper hand.”

  “No one who dislikes sex has the upper hand.”

  I lean back in my chair and cross my ankle over my knee. I’m anxious and worked up, and for the first time I can ever remember, I wish I were able to don the stoic mask that my brother wears so flawlessly. Me, I’m transparent. I’m jittery. My whole body twitches with my distress.

  The worst part? I can’t let the subject go. “If you knew there was no way to satisfy you, why did you even let me take you home in the first place?”

  “Honestly?” She blushes, and it’s so hot my balls itch. “I was trying to prove a point to my father.”

  Holy. No. “You fucked me to prove a point to your father? I’m really not following.”

  She shakes her head. “Of course you aren’t. I’m mucking this up. You see, at the benefit, after I realized who you were, I tried to tell my father that I’d met you. I was hoping to give you both an introduction, but as always, he wasn’t interested. He’s never very interested in what I have to say. He’s one of those men who thinks that women belong behind the scenes of charity functions, or if they must have a career, it should be in fashion or interior design. Definitely not business. Very old-fashioned.”

  I don’t say it, but I can actually relate. My father isn’t too impressed with me most days either.

  “I’m sorry if you’re the type to agree with him,” Genevieve goes on, “but, really I’m not sorry, because if you do agree, you’re a shallow, closed-minded misogynist who needs to stop being a prat and catch up with the times.”

  “I’m not. Women should work where they want to work. Equal pay, equal benefits and all that jazz.” I sound lame the way I’m falling all over myself trying to impress her.

  And I can’t seem to stop. “In fact, women should get paid more, in my opinion. They’re much smarter than men. More organized. Usually have better ideas too.”

  “That’s really not necessary.”

  I sense she’s biting back a laugh. I really am lame. Kill me now. “I know. I’m sorry. Go on. I’m still not clear on how I ended up in your bed.”

  Genevieve tilts her head and studies me. “You are charming, you know. That had a lot to do with it. And your reputation. I figured if anyone had a shot at disrupting the status quo, it was you.”

  Now that’s what I’m talking about. Lay on the praise, babe.

  “But also, my father was so dismissive. He acted like he thought it was cute that I had ‘made a friend’. Suggested I bring you home for dinner sometime. Needless to say, I was miffed. He’d never dismiss my brother like that, and Hagan wouldn’t know a good opportunity if it bit him in the arse. So, out of spite, I let you fuck me.”

  “That’s. I’m.” In her short speech, she’s dr
opped so many personal details that I want to latch onto and pursue further.

  But there’s one that’s especially pressing. “You told your father I took you home?”

  “No. Noooo.” She waves her hand emphasizing the degree to which I’ve got the wrong impression. “It was more of a secret spiteful gesture. I know it sounds silly. It made me feel self-righteous at the time. Anyway, it’s backfired because now you also don’t seem to be interested in any business talk with me. Which is truly a shame, I might add. I was the top of my class at Cambridge. I have innovative ideas to bring to Werner Media. Accelecom would be such a major coup to have a partnership with, and if you’d just hear me out, I’m certain I could impress you.”

  “Hold on.” I put my hand up to stop her from saying any more. There is shit that needs to be cleared up here and quick. “First of all, I’m already impressed.” She’s obviously smart as well as classy. I’m so impressed I can’t get comfortable in my chair, but mentioning that would probably help her case and not mine.

  “Second of all, I am not a misogynist. I’d be more than interested in any idea you might have for Pierce Industries.” I’m already trying to think of places we could use her, and I don’t even know exactly what it is she does or what she has to offer. Well, besides the obvious. “But I’m not sure why you’d want to talk to me about Werner Media.”

  “Because with Warren Werner about to retire, you’re going to need someone new at the helm. There’s no one currently primed to take his spot.”

  “Yes, I agree. Just, that’s not part of our portfolio. If you’d like me to get you in touch with Warren—”

  She folds her arms over her chest and gives me a stern look. “You don’t need to be dodgy. You’ve done well at keeping it under wraps, but I’m fully aware that Pierce Industries owns the majority shares of Werner Media.”

  “No, we don’t.” I’m starting to wish we did, but sadly, no.

  “Yes. You do. Your brother obtained controlling interest about five years ago.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “He did,” she insists, frustration lacing her tone. “Are you really not aware? Pierce Industries has been a silent partner, letting Warren Werner maintain the position of figurehead.”

  She’s so sure of herself, I consider the possibility. I mean, there is a lot that Hudson doesn’t tell me. It’s a big business, and I’ve only been working full-time since I finished my MBA last year. So it’s feasible that we have deals that I’m not quite caught up on.

  If what she’s suggesting is true, it would explain Hudson’s interest in Werner Media forming a partnership with Accelecom. And why he wanted me to make a good impression at the gala.

  Actually, it makes a lot of sense.

  It’s my turn to study her. “How do you know all this? If this information hasn’t been made privy to the public, I don’t understand how you know about it.”

  “Well, I know about it from my father.”

  “Who’s your father?”

  “Edward Fasbender.”

  I drop my leg to the floor and sit forward. “Your father’s the head of Accelecom?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you realize? You saw me with him.”

  Exactly the man my brother was hoping I’d impress. And I went ahead and banged the guy’s daughter. And his daughter wasn’t satisfied. This situation is starting to look bad.

  I ball my hand in a fist and run it along my forehead. “I didn’t realize he was Edward Fasbender. And that still doesn't explain how Accelecom knows about Pierce Industries’ silent share majority.” The pieces aren’t coming together, but I’m starting to sense that when they do, it’s going to be even worse than it is now. If that’s possible.

  “Oh. I see. But of course we know about Werner Media from my stepmother.”

  “Your stepmother?”

  The intercom sounds before she has a chance to answer. Three solid beeps and then Trish’s voice fills the air. “Chandler, I thought you’d want to know that Hudson just called and he’s on his way up with Edward Fasbender.”

  Yep, I knew it was going to get worse.

  Genevieve bolts up from her chair. “Oh shit. My father doesn’t know I’m here. If he finds out, he’s going to be mad as hell.”

  Way worse.

  I stand and move toward her. “Then we better get going before they get up here. Come on. We can slip out to—” I’m about to say my office when I remember I’d led her to believe this was my office. “To my other office.”

  She seems confused—naturally—but doesn't hesitate when I put my hand on her shoulder to direct her out of the room. My skin feels instantly charged. How the hell can she say she didn’t have a good enough time?

  Probably shouldn’t be worrying about that right now.

  I open the door, but instead of moving out, her eyes double in size. “Fuck!” She scurries to hide behind me, urging me to close the door again.

  I don’t have to ask why because I spotted them myself—Hudson and the man from the gala stepping out of the elevator.

  I shut the door and press my back against it. Running a hand through my hair, I will myself to think of something. And quick.

  Looking even paler than normal, Genevieve begins pacing and cursing. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  There is another escape route from this office—the single elevator that leads to the loft above. It used to be where Hudson lived when he was a bachelor. Now I live there, but since my brother doesn’t particularly like the idea of me having free rein to just drop into his office whenever I like, he’s removed the access key.

  As if the loft is the only way I’d drop into his office uninvited.

  I also know where he keeps the key. I’m not sure if we have time to grab it, but we can try.

  “This way.” Grabbing Genevieve’s hand, I pull her toward the closet by the liquor cabinet where Hudson’s got the key stashed. Then, when I realize we absolutely don’t have time to grab the key, cross the room, call the elevator, and get out of the office before my brother walks in, I pull Genevieve in with me and shut the door.

  And that’s how I end up hiding from my brother in his office closet with the one girl on earth who doesn’t want to repeat fuck me.

  God, my life sucks.

  Did I mention the closet was small?

  Really small. Tight. Cozy. So cramped we practically have to press up against each other to fit inside.

  Huh.

  Maybe things aren’t going quite so bad after all.

  4

  The closet, it turns out, provides exactly enough room for two bodies. We could stand shoulder to shoulder and that would take the entire width. The depth is almost half that. It’s only meant to hold a few coats or jackets, nothing more. Thankfully, it’s late August, so there’s not much in here besides us, a couple of Hudson’s spare suits, and a hook with the key to the elevator.

  I eye the silver dangling on the wall above Genevieve’s head and consider whether we have time to try to make it to the loft after all. Her father and Hudson still haven’t entered the office—we’d have heard them.

  “Are you sure they’ll come in here?” she asks, and I can tell she must be listening for them as closely as I am.

  “Not positive. But if they’re having a meeting, it seems likely.” Which means we should stay put. I pocket the access key anyway. In case we get an opportunity.

  She backs up against the wall and sighs. “Why are they using your office?”

  I’m a fairly smart guy. I know my cover’s blown. The full disclosure tactic worked out all right before, so I just go ahead and admit, “Because this isn’t my office. It’s Hudson’s.”

  “Why did you say it was yours then?” She’s huffy, which I suppose is fair. It’s also sort of hot.

  I lean on the opposite wall, hands stuffed in my pockets. “I didn’t exactly say that it was, if you remember.”

  “But you knew I thought it was.”

  I shrug. I mean, she’s right, but it’s not li
ke rehashing it is going to get us out of the situation we’re in.

  “Well, that was a nice one, wasn’t it? Letting me believe something that wasn’t true.” She starts to cross her arms over her chest and close herself off but drops them when, I assume, she realizes the space is much too tight to allow that.

  Isn’t that a shame?

  I bend over her, placing my palm on the wall next to her face. “Hey, I didn’t know Hudson would be here. And I didn’t know he’d be with your father, and I most definitely didn’t guess that you’d be hiding from him.”

  “I wouldn’t be hiding from him if—”

  The office doors creak outside.

  I clamp my hand over Genevieve’s mouth, silencing her, and we both perk up, listening to the rustle of the men’s movements, praying there’s no reason for Hudson to peek inside our hiding space.

  “It’s not what you intend to do with Werner Media that I’m concerned with,” he says, and it sounds like he’s passing us by, walking toward his desk, I guess. “It’s how that will affect Pierce Industries.”

  “I can assure you, Accelecom has no interest in taking any predatory action against your company. I’ve conceded to every one of your conditions, Hudson. Our position should be quite obvious.” The voice that responds is British, but I can tell the crisp and formal manner with which the man speaks has as much to do with his personality as the location of his upbringing.

  And this is what Genevieve has to deal with as a parent? Damn. It’s got to be like being raised by a Hudson. Poor girl.

  This snippet of their conversation also confirms what she had said earlier, and I’m intrigued by what else they have to say.

  But I’m more intrigued right now by her. She smells good, like some spring flower, the purple ones—lilacs, I think. Sunlight slips through the slats of the door, hitting her face, and her gaze is locked on mine. With her delicate features and bewildered expression, she reminds me of a doe, caught under a hunter’s riflescope.

  My doe. My prey.

  You look at me all bright-eyed and trusting like that, and all I can think about is how far I could get my cock down your throat before you couldn’t breathe.