“Oh.” Gavin felt like a colossal shit. “I didn’t mean to worry you or leave you alone. I should have been here. Is there anything I can do?”
“Not go out again tonight?” Aaron’s laugh was forced.
“Of course. And whatever else you need. I’m sorry.” Guilt swelled inside, mingling with resentment Gavin couldn’t justify. But it was still there. Aaron wasn’t asking for much; he never had. So why couldn’t Gavin shake this feeling?
Chapter Seventeen
CYNTHIA KNOCKED ON Aaron and Gavin’s door and waited. She’d seen the news on Friday. The big scandal everyone said changed everything. She didn’t see how. What happened happened, regardless of who perpetrated it. Apparently the rest of the world didn’t see it that way. She’d tried to call Aaron that day, but when he didn’t answer, she figured he was doing damage control.
They were supposed to meet Monday—today—and it should be the perfect time to catch up. Then she saw the press release that his firm was severing ties with him, and when she got to their office half an hour ago, she was told he was finishing his work at home.
He could have let her know.
Gavin answered, and his friendly smile chased away some of her irritation. Shadows lingered behind his gaze, but that was to be expected.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Fielding calls from talent agents and VC firms. It’s an odd sensation to be so popular again.” He stepped aside. “But you’re not here to see me.”
“No.” It would be nice if she was, but that wasn’t a feeling she could afford to acknowledge. “I do wish I were here for different reasons.”
“It is what it is. Aaron’s in the office. Across from the bedroom.” Gavin nodded down the hallway.
Cynthia wanted to give him a huge hug or something and tell him it would be all right. That felt wildly inappropriate. She settled for squeezing his fingers as she walked by. “Thanks.”
He gripped her hand tighter, and she turned back to face him. He searched her face, then shook his head. “Go. Work. Have fun.”
“Not phrases that usually go together, but okay.” She tried not to read too much into the interaction as she strolled down the hall. She paused in the office doorway.
Aaron sat in front of a computer, tapping his fingers on the keyboard but not compressing the keys.
“Did you forget something?” She meant to tease, but her irritation slid in.
He looked up, eyes wide, and took a moment to focus on her face. “Cyn. Fuck. I meant to call you, but every time I reached for the phone, something interrupted. I was going to see if you wanted to cancel today.”
“A warning would have been nice.” Yeah, she couldn’t do kind. “Not about the meeting, though I wasted a bit of time this morning, tracking you down.”
“What, then?”
And the rant that had been bubbling inside since she heard Friday’s news spilled forward. “You were willing to withhold funding from me. You threatened to drop your consideration, because of a maybe-but-not-really issue with my former business partner. A problem I had a plan to handle. Something I had under control. And the entire time, you were sitting on top of something like this? Hypocrite much?” That came out harsher than she wanted. Apparently she did see the issue with what he’d done.
It wasn’t just the business aspect of things, though that bothered her. The fact that he lied to her settled under her skin. It forced her to acknowledge they weren’t friends or anything other than mild acquaintances, although she’d let herself believe otherwise. That was her mistake, but it was easier to take it out on Aaron.
He raked shaky fingers through his hair. God. He looked worse than Gavin. She should have been nicer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If you’d like to sever ties, Liz offered to buy out your investment. A lot of my clients are taking my former partners up on similar options. If you’d like to do the same, I don’t blame you.”
The proposal dug deep, burrowing a hole she didn’t like in her chest, until something inside snapped. “So first you lie to me, and then you try to shrug me off on someone else? A someone who passed on my idea the first time around?”
“I’m giving you the option of moving on. I’d rather keep working with you, but if you’ve got an issue with the news, there are ways out that will protect you and your IP.”
This wasn’t the Aaron she met a few short weeks ago. He was tired. Surrendering. She didn’t like it. It didn’t seem like him. Then again, what did she know? “I don’t want a way out.” She let the words flow without thought. “I want you to feel bad about keeping this from me, and I know that’s not professional, but fuck it.” Not what she intended to say, but it felt good to have it out there.
“I never meant... The story you know has been our reality for so long, I didn’t think to say otherwise. I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” She struggled to hang onto her self-righteousness with him looking so defeated.
He gave her a dry smile. “If you stay with me, it won’t look good for you. It’ll mar your options for gathering other investors.”
“I’m not in this to keep collecting funds until the company is ready to burst. I don’t want to play that game or build an impressive platform worthy of a billion-dollar IPO. I’m trying to get my business off the ground and keep it solvent until it’s making enough to grow on its own. You’re offering me a way to do that. Or you were. Is that still the case?”
Some of the lines vanished from his face. “Yes. Nothing’s changed except the name on the doorplate, if you’re still interested in going down this path.”
“You gave me a chance when no one else would. I like what we’re doing together, and—damn it—you can’t back out now because of something stupid like a little bad publicity.” She moved further into the room.
Humor leaked into his smile. “Then we’d better finish the paperwork and due diligence.” He gestured to a chair. “Unless you’ve got more to get off your chest, we should get going.”
She settled into the empty seat. “That’s better. I think we left off with past financial statements.”
They dove into work, which, with Aaron, was a lot more enjoyable than financial statements should be.
“Have you always lived in L.A.?” Aaron asked.
“I grew up in Yuba City. After college, Emily and I moved to San Jose, because that’s where the tech jobs are. And after she moved out, this seemed like it might be a better place to find clients.”
“I’m glad you ended up here.”
The sincerity in the simple comment heated her cheeks. “Me too.”
The conversation shifted back to numbers, until Aaron said, “We stayed in Grass Valley for a few months, when I was a kid. It might as well be a different planet, compared to here.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Nostalgia tickled Cynthia’s senses. “Emily loved to go anywhere that wasn’t home. When we were in high school, she used to pick a direction and just drive. We even wound up in Nevada a few times. It didn’t matter to her where we went, as long as it somewhere else.”
“What about you?”
Cynthia tried to puzzle out his meaning but couldn’t. “What do you mean?”
“That story. You went because Emily wanted to. What about you?”
She wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “She didn’t drag me against my will or anything. I still had fun. And we did lots of things I wanted to as well. It wasn’t a one-way street.”
“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m just curious what those things were that you picked. What was your favorite pastime?”
Cynthia stalled on the question. She wasn’t used to talking about herself like this. Superficial stuff? That was normal. The random flings she substituted for relationships didn’t care about more. With her clients, it wasn’t about her, and she and Emily already knew everything about each other. Or they used to. “Ice cream? The bookstore? Movies?” she chuckled. “It makes me sound kind of boring.�
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“Not at all. I think it sounds fantastic.”
Talk shifted back to her business’s money and tripped from one random topic to the next.
“Wow.” Aaron’s exclamation caught her off guard. “It’s almost eleven. Do you want to take a break?”
She blinked and rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how weary her brain was until he said something. “A break sounds great.”
They wandered toward the kitchen. She didn’t see Gavin, but it felt impolite to actively seek him out if he wasn’t in plain view.
“Do you want something to drink?” Aaron approached the fridge.
“Water. Lots of ice.” It was cool inside, but the sun beat through the glass of the balcony door. When she showed up this morning, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do or say. The last couple of hours made her decision to stick with Aaron feel right. “There’s a huge perk to working here, instead of in an office.”
“Oh?” He handed her a glass and joined her on the patio.
Before following, she shrugged off her suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. “It’s a lot more comfortable and casual here.” She’d feel odd wearing the sleeveless top in a more professional environment. She stepped up next to him on the cement and let her gaze travel over the city below. It was a gorgeous view, and she could see all the way to the mountains.
“I won’t be offended if you want to wear something more comfortable tomorrow.” Aaron stood close enough she could distinguish the heat of his arm near hers from the morning sunshine. “You’ve already made the right impressions.”
She heard another set of footsteps from behind, and a second later, the glass door slid shut. There was Gavin. She half expected a joke like, Or you could wear nothing at all.
“I owe you an apology.” Gavin’s voice was missing its usual cheer.
An ache settled in her bones, to hear him sounding less than on-top. At the same time, she liked knowing he was comfortable enough around her to show her this side of himself. It was an odd contradiction. She turned to face him. “It’s done and over.” She wanted the words to be an all-encompassing kind of thing. As in, there was no reason to apologize. No need to bring up the other night at the club. It wasn’t as if that part of their relationship would continue.
She couldn’t force out the specific words, and despite the insistence inside, she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to read more into her statement or not. Something cold dripped between her breasts, and she gasped. It was the moisture from the edges of her glass.
Gavin hadn’t replied, and she looked up to find him watching her. Gaze locked on hers, he drew a finger up her chest, along the fallen drop of water. Despite the summer heat, a pleasant chill raced over her, raising goosebumps.
“You didn’t deserve what I did. I interrupted a perfectly incredible evening.” He dragged his damp finger along her bottom lip, and her mouth parted in a silent sigh.
“I think the moment was lost.” Aaron’s strained words came from behind her.
She didn’t know if it was stress or desire lining his voice.
Gavin continued to watch Cynthia, making her pulse race. “I have a good idea where to find it.” There was no mistaking the undercurrent in his tone—apology, mixed with need. He leaned closer, breath hot on her cheek and then her ear, but never made contact. “I know this isn’t a crowded dance floor, but I promise not to interrupt this time. I’ll sit back and watch, though I can’t swear I’ll be quiet.”
Want spilled through her, carried on a wave of images and his intoxicating scent. The fantasy of screwing Aaron while Gavin watched teased her thoughts. Gavin’s closeness amplified each flash in her mind, until the fantasy clenched in her belly and traveled lower, to thrum between her thighs.
Hell, she liked what he was implying. There was a problem, though, and logic chose that moment to rear its nasty head. For all the justifications she’d made in the past, if she did this again, she wouldn’t be able to pretend it was meaningless. Her reaction this morning to Aaron’s deception—thinking he owed her anything more than professional courtesy—was proof she was dangerously close to losing the detachment she needed.
“Well?”
She felt more than heard Gavin’s whisper as it caressed her skin. She swore the whole world held its breath, waiting for her answer. She certainly did. She reached deep, past lust and want and the craving for Aaron and Gavin’s touch, and grabbed resolve she didn’t know she had. “No. That’s not a good idea.”
“All right.” Gavin stepped away. Despite the casual words, he was scowling.
“She’s right.” Aaron’s agreement bolstered her decision. “And two of us need to get back to work.”
“It was amazing”—Cynthia looked at Gavin—“but we all knew it was only temporary.”
“You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” Aaron said.
“Nope.” Gavin’s smile was brighter than the sun and hurt more to look at. “Bad idea on my part. The past was just fun. And in the past. It didn’t mean anything. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”
Cynthia hated how clipped his words were and that she was responsible for it. At the same time, resentment tingled inside that he made her feel bad for saying no.
Chapter Eighteen
GAVIN KNEW, DEEP IN his bones and all through him, that Cynthia had a right to turn down his playful offer. That didn’t stop the rejection from lingering where reason should be. He made himself scarce while Aaron and Cynthia finished working for the day. And even after she left.
He was busy enough anyway. It seemed as though someone new called with the offer of a lifetime every couple of hours. Another agent or venture capitalist or technical recruiter.
He gave the recruiters his attention. Since he’d enjoyed creating the thing the first time around, it seemed like a good chance to see if someone would let him dig in and get technical again. No one offered what he was looking for, though.
Each time Gavin’s phone rang, Aaron tried to hide a frown.
The tension in the house grew to oppressive levels, and by Thursday morning, Gavin was tempted to toss his phone off the balcony.
It might make a more satisfying crunch if he threw it in the blender.
He agreed to meet with the one headhunter who had a reasonable-sounding position.
Stepping out of the house was more of a relief than Gavin wanted to admit. The job he’d been sold on—Creative Control and Design over a new artificial-intelligence algorithm—was nothing like the Vice President position pitched when he sat down for lunch. He told the recruiter thanks, but no thanks, and sent the guy on his way.
Gavin wasn’t ready to go home yet. He took a seat at the bar and stared at the TV, not registering what was playing.
The bartender set a shot glass of amber liquid in front of him. Gavin waved it away. “I didn’t order this.”
“It’s on me.” A blonde took the stool next to him. Her suit—silk blouse, pinstriped jacket and matching slacks—made Gavin think she’d escaped an afternoon of corporate torture. And didn’t remind him in the least of Cynthia.
As long as she wasn’t there to offer him a job he didn’t want or talk him into reviving his career, he was grateful for the company. He gave her a warm smile. “I can’t accept a drink from a stranger.”
She extended her hand. “Amelia.”
“Gavin.” He gripped her palm. Her skin was cool and smooth against his, chasing away the clouds that had lingered all week.
“Now we’re not strangers anymore.” She lifted her glass. “Cheers?”
Fuck it. He was tired of doing what was expected of him. He clinked his drink against hers, then downed the tequila in a single swallow. It burned smooth and hot, sliding down his throat. That felt and tasted better than it should. Like visiting an old friend he’d ignored for way too long. He waved the bartender over. “Two more.”
AARON WRAPPED UP WORK for the day. The only good thing about him going his separate way from the
firm was that shutting a few windows on his computer was easier than walking home. Not that the latter took much effort. Maybe he’d take tomorrow off. In the last week, he’d lost board seats with almost every one of his investments, signed most of their contracts over to former partners, and been told at least a couple of times to go fuck himself.
The conversation he’d had with Cynthia on Monday was rainbows and unicorns, compared to the way things went with pretty much everyone else. She was the only person who opted to stay with him.
He was exhausted, mentally and physically. A three-day weekend would give him time to find his mojo again. He’d land on his feet—he always did—but right now he needed to temporarily lift some of the weight from his shoulders.
The front door clicked open. Before he could call out and ask Gavin how the interview went, he heard, “Honey, we’re home.”
We? Aaron padded into the living room. When he saw the woman half-standing, half-leaning against Gavin, he froze.
“Hello.” She waved. Pink flushed her cheeks, and she seemed to have an infatuation with chewing on her bottom lip.
Gavin made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Amelia, this is the love of my life, Aaron.”
“I’ve heard a bunch about you.” Amelia giggled. “You’re as sexy as he says.”
Aaron processed a couple of thoughts in a few-seconds span. Amelia bore an eerie resemblance to Cynthia. Not so much they could be confused in decent lighting, but enough they might be cousins. And Gavin was drunk.
“It’s barely five.” Aaron couldn’t keep the reproach from his voice.
Gavin laughed. “So it’s not just five o’clock somewhere; it’s five o’clock here. I was telling Amelia how much fun we like to have, and she’s curious.”
“Very.” Amelia’s flush deepened.
Aaron had a suspicion they were talking about sex, but he didn’t like to assume. “Fun with what?”
“Making Amelia the filling in an Oreo cookie. Since our last cookie is done with us.”
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