“Hi,” she said, opening the door wider for him to come in. He didn’t walk inside; he just stood at the door and stared at her, a hungry look in his eyes.
“Bentley?” she said. “Want to come in?” She reached her hand out the door to touch his arm, and he covered her hand with his.
As he followed her into the apartment, still holding onto her hand, she led him to the couch. He looked unstable, like he might tip over.
“Are you okay?” She sat beside him on the couch and turned to face him, tucking her feet under her.
He made a gesture that might have meant yes, or no, or that he didn’t understand her question. He still hadn’t said anything, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
He wasn’t looking at her like he looked at her at work. Not like he was trying to figure out what she was thinking, and not like he was watching to see how she made a drink or handled a difficult customer. He wasn’t watching her so he could learn something. He was watching like he needed to. Watching her like he was compelled to watch. Watching like he couldn’t look away.
She couldn’t look away, either. She felt heat rising up her neck. Her body felt pulled toward him. There were definite sparks flying.
When he put his hand on her shoulder, she felt herself shudder under his touch, a wave of energy sailing through her body. His fingers moved up her neck and caressed her hair.
She felt herself rising up on her knees to get closer to him as he cupped his hands around the back of her neck. One hand slid down to rest in the center of her back and she reached up to hold his shoulders. He gently pulled her closer. She locked into his gaze for a moment, or maybe for an eternity, before closing her eyes and closing the distance.
Their mouths met in a silent communication. He asked and she answered; she suggested and he responded. Ivy let herself become lost in the moment, exploring this kiss. When Bentley finally broke away, she batted her eyes open to see that he was smiling.
“Ivy,” he said, tracing his finger along her hairline. “Ivy.”
She figured there was more, so she waited.
“I need to tell you something,” he said. Then he shook his head. “I want to tell you something.” He took both of her hands in his and kissed her mouth again, softly, gently.
“I want you to be the first to know,” he said. “Well, the first person I tell.”
Her brain was flooding with ideas of what he might be heading toward. She tried to dismiss all the negative stories she was instantly telling herself. He looked so happy. It had to be something good. Something amazing, even.
Maybe he was…
“I’m Titus Cameron.”
She felt her brain jerk to a stop, her mouth open in surprise; she closed it quickly. That was not what she thought he was going to say. Not even close.
“That’s not funny,” she said, straightening up and angling away from him. She removed her hands from his without actually yanking them away.
“No, it’s not supposed to be funny. But it’s true.”
She shook her head. “No. You’re Bentley. The nice guy. The rich guy who doesn’t act rich. The guy who let me help him fit in and relax.” She was still shaking her head, sure that if she kept denying, he’d come around to her way of thinking.
“Titus Cameron,” she said, as if explaining new information to him, “is the guy who invented Velvet Undergrounds. He’s the billionaire brainchild of the shop. He’s some genius recluse who sees nobody, and he probably runs the corporation by remote control from the corner penthouse of some light-filled new high-rise building.” She heard her voice rising in pitch and intensity. “He’s the destroyer of small businesses. Nobody can open a mom-and-pop coffee shop around here ever again. He’s taking over the city, block by block.” She jumped off the couch. Her voice became shrill. “He’s the guy who’s going to tear down Centennial Glenn and put Lucille and all the others out on the street.”
When she finally looked back at him, Ivy saw that Bentley had sunk back into the couch cushions, looking patient and ready to defend himself when she stopped talking. She didn’t want to stop talking. She wanted to keep hurtling denials. She didn’t want to hear him defend any of Titus Cameron’s heartless business decisions. And she couldn’t reconcile the anger and contempt she felt toward the very idea of Titus Cameron to the way she’d felt in Bentley’s arms just moments ago.
It was too confusing. And she had run out of words. But it didn’t matter. Bentley couldn’t say anything that would convince her Titus was anything but a heartless, greedy capitalist. Nothing could justify his business behavior.
Bentley spoke softly. “Velvet Undergrounds was my grad school project. I wanted to invent a store that felt exactly opposite of what it was. I wanted to give people a unique experience, but back it with the funding of a powerful corporation. All the charm of a one-off shop with the financial security of a franchise. The customer experiences one thing, and the company experiences something completely different.” He scratched his chin and looked at Ivy to see if she was still listening. “It was an experiment. And it worked.”
She stood in the middle of the room with her arms folded tightly across her chest. She hadn’t regained enough mental strength to throw him out yet, so she didn’t say anything. He kept talking. “Because I’m in a unique position to secure funding, I was able to open the business through a channel of my dad’s companies. And in order to gain majority control of my board, I need to work in the shop for a couple of months.”
Ivy finally felt a switch flip. She stomped her foot and shouted, “A couple of months? You’re leaving us in a couple of months? Because you’ve done your time down in the trenches with the common people? And now you get to move forward, making all your business decisions by yourself? So you don’t have to be accountable to anyone when you throw a building full of old people out onto the street?” She held tight to her anger. It was the only thing keeping the tears away. “That is despicable. That is horrifying.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” His calm voice suggested that he thought she’d be pleased about this.
He was wrong. “Are you serious? You want to talk to me about throwing Lucille out of her home?” Her heartbeat thrummed in her head, drowning out any thought of polite dialogue.
He nodded. “I want you to tell me what to do.”
He could not be serious.
“Tell you what to do? Are you kidding? Anyone with a shred of humanity would know what to do. You are in a position of authority. You have control here. You HELP them.”
His calm voice came again, adding to her fury by the second. “What does that look like, exactly? How could I help them?”
Anger overcame her, and her next words came out as a near-whisper. “You have all the money in the world. You know business as well as anyone. And you need me to tell you how to help a struggling facility? Are you serious?”
He nodded. “I am serious. Are you suggesting that I build another facility for them? Is that what you’re saying?”
She stared at him. Was he being dense on purpose?
“The care center industry isn’t really my specialty.” He didn’t sound apologetic.
“Who cares? Is it that hard to see it’s the right thing to do?” She felt tears rising.
“It’s not good business,” he said, his hands out, palms up, as if that was all there was left to say.
She shook her head. “It’s time for you to leave.”
She pointed to the door, feeling supported by a wave of righteous indignation. Bentley got up off the couch and walked toward her.
“Ivy,” he said, his voice quiet and humble. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”
She shook her head and held her hands up in front of her like a wall. “Clearly you’re not, or you would have already done it.”
He looked like he wanted to say something else. He took a step closer.
She kept her hands up and shook her head. “No. Get out. Don’t talk to me.” She tried
not to see her lipstick marks on the corner of his mouth. This was no time to get distracted by any particularly delicious memories. No.
“Ivy, please,” he tried again.
She closed her eyes and pointed to the door.
When he walked away, she felt a combination of relief that he was gone and sadness that she was certain he’d never, never come back.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Bentley sat in a chair at the middle of the conference table, purposely not choosing a seat at the head. That would come later, when he’d earned it. The boardroom felt cold, the air conditioning turned up too high. Bentley felt himself press deeper into his leather chair. Lex was making a presentation about the plan to roll out the new block: advertising for local businesses to rent office space, tours of the model apartments, and an outdoor festival to celebrate the flagship store’s completion. She was great at her job. She made every idea sound brilliant and shiny. Every suggestion came out sounding familiar. She knew how to push when pushing was necessary, but even then, she managed to make the pushing seem like exactly the right idea. He knew he was lucky to have her.
Lex placed a laser light over a corner of a schematic, explaining how the traffic flow would suit the store, the surrounding high-rise buildings, and the park. She listed a few more events on her horizon and then clicked to the last slide, an architect’s rendering of the flagship storefront. Every time Bentley saw it, he got a shiver of excitement. It was such a great idea. Such a great project. “Clearly, this is all far enough in the future that we don’t need to put small appointments firmly into the calendars,” Lex said, “But let’s keep the big things on the radar, because we’re going to want to have all board members present for these high-profile appearances.”
She pushed the power button on her tablet to turn it off. “And this leads me to the next big PR decision that you are all involved with,” she said to the board. “When do we unveil Titus? When do we show the world his face?” She took an expansive glance around the conference table. “I suggest sooner than later; that we run a few more strategic interviews in prominent publications, really whet the public’s appetite for a genius billionaire playboy.”
If she hadn’t said that with such an obvious attempt not to grin, Bentley might have been flattered.
Kevin Fordham, the marketing director, started talking about the plan to unveil Titus, like he was some kind of sculpture. Bentley was only half listening. Kevin mentioned a date six months in the future. When Lexus came back with a conflict, Kevin made a show of giving her the floor, even though it was clear that Kevin thought both of the Hollis children, as he no doubt still thought of them, needed a firm guiding hand. All of these board members, friends of his father’s, had competing agendas, and Bentley once again felt eager to take majority control of his company. He wished he could simply promise Kevin Fordham that his substantial investment in Velvet Undergrounds would be tripled within another year and be finished with him. He pictured a day when he sat here at this table with one or two specially chosen advisors, friends, colleagues who would listen and discuss, instead of this game of nodding and pretending to concede, only to bring things back to the table at the next meeting.
Bentley shook himself, realizing that his mind was wandering far from the conversation happening at the table.
He sat up straighter in his chair. At a break in the “discussion,” he leaned in toward the center of the table, making a visual line between Lexus and Kevin.
“Can I have a minute?” he asked, not expecting any resistance. This is your company, he reminded himself. You are in charge, and you can take control. “This talk about unveiling Titus may be unnecessary.” He felt the energy crackle around the table. “I’ve already told people.”
The silence that fell on the boardroom felt physically heavy, a palpable change in the atmosphere. Before the room could erupt in angry discussion, Bentley went on. “Not many people,” he said, but the clarification didn’t seem to comfort anyone.
“Who?” Lex’s simple question wasn’t so simple to answer. She’d tear him apart when she found out.
“Some people from the shop. Friends I’ve been making.” He refused to be any more straightforward.
He looked at his dad. “I doubt anyone would talk,” he said. But he had to make the full confession. “However, I can’t deny that there is a possibility that someone might share the information.”
Lex practically exploded. “Of course someone would share the information. Are you kidding me? Every publication in the area, not to even mention online news outlets, would pay handsomely for an exclusive.”
A small part of Bentley hated that he knew exactly what Lex was talking about. And what she was hinting. He could see the faces of the board, a mixture of consternation and annoyance. As if this was what they should have expected.
“I doubt anyone’s selling the story,” Bentley said, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt foolish for doubting the possibility. Lex was right. Anyone would jump at the chance to pay Ivy for her story. And it wouldn’t be difficult at all for her to find a buyer.
“In any case,” he said, trying to steer the conversation back to less volatile ground, “maybe we consider making the announcement about Titus sooner.”
“You think we’re going to scoop a supermarket tabloid? Nobody moves faster than they do.” Lex was grumbling, her perfect forehead collapsing into unflattering lines, which he wasn’t about to mention. She already looked prepared to tear his heart out of his chest with her perfectly manicured hands.
“Why does it have to be such a production? Maybe we should make the announcement today,” Bentley suggested. “Maybe we call in a few of your favorite press people and just tell them.” Bentley didn’t think she’d stand up and cheer about this suggestion, but he wasn’t prepared for the venom with which she glared at him.
Both Gary Northrup and Kevin Fordham put hands on the table, ready to stand up from their chairs. Gary spoke first. “This is a breach of your contract, Bentley. You signed an agreement. You’ve already put the corporation into dangerous territory. If you move forward without board approval, you risk losing everything.” He looked down the table at the lawyer, who nodded without saying anything.
Kevin Fordham shook his head. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not disappointed. We had an agreement. You’ve broken it.” He spoke like Bentley was a naughty puppy who tracked mud through the house.
Bentley swallowed his annoyance at being talked to like a child and said, “Now we have an opportunity to move forward on a shorter timeline. I suggest we create a media event. Maybe not today,” he said, in concession to Lex’s look of utter panic, “but soon. I move that we vote to go ahead and tell the world about Titus right away.”
Kevin Fordham did not manage to hide his eye-roll. But he sounded professional when he spoke. “We have a motion to vote to release the identity of Titus Cameron on a shorter time schedule.”
Bentley interrupted. “Within a month.”
Kevin’s sigh was deep and loud. “A motion to identify Titus within the month. In favor?”
Bentley put up his hand, and a few others followed. Lex glared at him and raised her hand.
Kevin said, “Opposed?” in the defeated voice of one who can count a simple majority. He nodded. “Motion carried. Lexus will be in touch with the PR team to make assignments. Meeting adjourned.”
“Wait,” Bentley said. “I have something else I want to suggest.”
His dad looked at him, face calm. Everyone else revolted, led by Lexus. “Not today. You’ve said enough.”
The board removed themselves in a muted wave of muttering. Bentley knew he’d made things difficult for everyone. He fiddled with the keys of his laptop and avoided the eyes of all the people moving out of the room, but mostly avoiding his sister. Walter was one of the last people to leave, and he patted Bentley’s shoulder on his way out. Bentley knew what that meant—his dad supported him and probably even understood what he
was trying to do, but he’d stay out of Bentley’s way and let him handle it. Lex waited until the room was empty before she moved to stand between Bentley and the exit.
“If you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you in my office,” she said in a quiet, dangerous voice.
“We can talk in here,” he said, pushing his chair a bit away from the table.
She shook her head. “Glass walls,” she said. “I’d rather have this conversation in private.”
“Are you actually considering murdering me?” Bentley joked. It came out sounding a little like a whimper.
She looked down at him from her standing position. “Nothing is out of the question at present.” Her eyebrow quirked a fraction of an inch, suggesting she was hiding a smile, but her next words were not a joke. “In my office now, please. Apparently, I have a large mess to clean up.”
She marched out the conference room door and down the hall to her private office, similar in size and format, if not in décor, to Bentley’s own. He followed, avoiding eyes in the hallway.
When she closed the door behind him, she didn’t wait. “I cannot believe you told the coffee girl you’re Titus. Of all the stupid, foolish, thoughtless—”
Bentley interrupted, because he was confident that she could go on and on. “Her name is Ivy.”
He’d never seen his sister looking so angry. “Lex, I don’t want to lie to her any more. You can yell at me all you want, but it’s not going to make me un-say what I said.”
“Oh, I’ll yell, all right,” she said, and then spent a few minutes—if not actually yelling—making good use of her vocabulary and her gifts of verbal clarity. Bentley was in no doubt of her opinions.
He let her wind down before he spoke. “I’ll talk to her.” What else was there to say? There was no way to undo the mess, but he was certain he could contain it.
Lex’s face had returned to its proper color and its standard state of composure, but her voice still contained ire. “No. You won’t.”
Always & Forever: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection, Books 1 - 4) Page 29
