Something More

by Samanthya Wyatt

“Why should he? He’s too busy spending his money.”

  “That’s your opinion of Mr. Thurston?”

  Brad uncrossed his legs and shifted in his chair. “What are you doing with his file, Carrie? Are you checking up on me?”

  Hearing her name cross his lips sent a tremor of disgust down her spine. He should show her more respect. After all, she was a senior partner, and his boss. Brad’s ego came off way too cocky.

  “Mr. Thurston,” she said with emphasis, “is a very important client.”

  “You gave this file to me.” His expression chilled. “I thought you trusted me to direct his securities.”

  Spoken like a true ass.

  His voice reflected his misguided opinion of himself. “He is a client, Carrie. He pays us to control his money.”

  The arrogant imbecile. “Do you really think a man with a billion dollar portfolio would sit by and let others control his money? Make decisions which he would be totally unaware of?”

  Brad lifted a finger to pull at the collar of his shirt. “Did you say billion?”

  “Yes.” Carrie pierced him with her eyes. “Billions.”

  His face paled while that bit of news sank in. “That uh . . . wasn’t in the file I read.”

  “I gave you only part of his portfolio.”

  Brad’s voice rose with apprehension. “And I proved I could handle it.”

  She had liked Brad. Thought he would be good for the company. Now she saw him for the opportunist he was. “Oh, yes. You proved your skills. You stayed late hours, worked right by my side and never protested once when I asked you to work weekends.”

  A smirk crossed his face and he postured like a prime peacock. “I learned everything from you.”

  “Not everything.” His attempt at flattery sorely failed. “A friend of mine is a silent partner in Chase and Wachovia. It seems a Mr. Connelly is a friend of yours.”

  Only because she stared, she saw the change in Brad’s eyes. He tried to hide his shock. If his career were the theatre, he would surely starve. He feigned confusion. “Connelly? Don’t think so.”

  Carrie leaned forward and braced her forearms on the edge of her desk. “Well, if he’s not a friend . . . then maybe a business associate?”

  “Carrie, uh . . .”

  “Don’t bother to deny it. The man you’re dealing with just happens to be under surveillance for suspicion of illegal trading. You should really choose your partners in crime more carefully.”

  Brad’s face paled and a tic jerked his right eye. He cleared his throat. “I have no partner in crime. I’ve been . . .”

  “I suggest you tell me the truth. I have all the proof I need. Your dealings have been traced back to this company.” Losing her cool, she soared from her chair and slammed her hands on her desk. “Dammit, Brad! I will not let some egotistical dick destroy what’s mine.”

  His expression hardened with anger. “You act like this company belongs to you.”

  “I helped to build this company. I’m a partner and my word is my bond. I have a reputation to uphold.”

  A look of pure hatred crossed his features. If Carrie had been anyone else, she might have felt threatened. “You have a reputation, all right. A cold, hard woman who wants to be a man.”

  She braced her arms on her desk, curling her fingers to keep from scratching out his eyes. “Insults won’t get you out of this one.”

  “Why do you have to be such a bitch?”

  “Because I can,” she fired back. “The point is, you could have jeopardized the reputation of this firm. Higgins and Andrews! No one working under me will . . .”

  “Under you?” Brad shoved out of his chair. A malicious leer covered his features. “What you need is a man on top of you. A real man. One you can’t dominate. Edward was a weakling. What man would ever want to be under an ice queen like you? A damn Eskimo for a lay.”

  She’d had enough. “You’re finished. You no longer have a job. Get out.”

  He fisted his hands. His chest rose while he struggled with his inner thoughts. “I’m not without connections, you know,” he threatened.

  Did he really think he was on a level with the big dogs? “Connections? You mean the ones paying for your illicit information?”

  “I have friends. I can make trouble for you. These are very influential people. I’ll have the upper hand.”

  Carrie gave a mocking chuckle. “You think they will rescue a man who lies and cheats his way to the top? When they hear about this fiasco, they’ll drop you like a hot potato. Your friends will avoid you like the plague. I wager your friends won’t even remember your name once they learn you’ve been found out.”

  Brad’s face turned red with fury, the vein at his temple protruded, a sure sign he comprehend he was about to lose everything he had hoped to gain. “Mark my words. This isn’t over.”

  She stiffened. “You dare to threaten me?”

  “You’ll see. You’ll come crawling, asking me for a job.”

  Crawl? No way in H. E. L. L. would she crawl to any man.

  This is the kind of shitheads she had to deal with. The son-of-a-bitch would not ruin her. This incident with Brad reaffirmed her belief that men were absolute dicks. And not to be trusted. She’d built a career with her blood and her sweat and tears she refused to shed. Instead, she had turned her energy to strength. Determined to control her life and her destiny. Resolute in her belief that men were pigs. With pure will and fortitude, she had pushed to be better at her job than any man. Her career was everything to her.

  Brad preened, pulling the cuffs at the end of each sleeve, maybe his way of regaining his poise. Much calmer now, a glint flashed in his eyes as his lips curved in a smile. She clutched her hands into fists, tamping down the desire to strike him.

  “You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” he said slowly, his voice steel. “But you’ll find out. And you might want to take another look at your new boyfriend.”

  Dread clawed her gut. She remained steady waiting for the coil around her insides to loosen.

  Show no reaction.

  Never let the enemy see your weakness.

  With a calmness she did not feel and strength from God knew where, although it could have been pure survival instincts, she forced words from her lips. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Now I’ve got your attention.” Brad’s cocky stance grew taller. His lips curved higher.

  “You’ve had my attention. Now I want an answer.” Anger replaced her earlier shock. Back on her game, she prepared for a new battle. One she was determined to win, and hoped her heart would not lose.

  Entirely too pleased with himself, Brad smiled. More like the snarl of a wolf about to devour his prey. Cold day in hell before that happened.

  “You have something to say, spit it out,” she said. “You are not staying any longer than necessary.”

  “You have all the answers. You seem to know my contacts. But I wonder if you know what role a certain Corridon played in all this.” His lips drew back in a sneer. “Just remember. When everything falls apart, I’ll be there watching.” He turned with an air of victory and marched out.

  Carrie stared at the closed door, glad the ordeal was over. She never wanted to see the deceitful, lying bastard again.

  But what exactly had Brad lied about?

  I have friends. These are very influential people.

  You might want to take another look at your new boyfriend.

  I wonder if you know what role a certain Corridon played in all this.

  Brad had to be lying. Why? Because he lied about everything else.

  But, had he? About everything?

  No. She wouldn’t believe Matthew had been involved with Brad. She knew people and she knew men. She could not have misjudged Mathew so badly. Yes, Brad had stabbed her in the back, but the idea of his betrayal had not been one of complete disbelief. Not one as devastating as the slur he’d aimed at Matthew.

  She fell down into soft leather
, her hands griping the arms of her chair. Now what? Fingers positioned on each side of her head, she rubbed her throbbing temples. When she closed her eyes, Matthew’s sexy smile sprang to life. His sparkling blue eyes flashed in mischief, then darkened in passion.

  The intercom buzzed.

  Glancing down, she saw the flashing red light. If she ignored it, Brenda would take the hint. Carrie took a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it out, feeling the tension flow from her body. Opening her eyes, she decided to concentrate on work. The one safe haven in her existence. The one thing she trusted above and beyond any emotion. The events of the day would sort themselves out and she’d worry about Matthew later. She turned toward her computer, moved her mouse, and checked her emails.

  Thank God she’d been warned about Brad’s treachery before he did any real damage. The contacts she’d made while establishing her career had saved her ass. To survive in the corporate world, one had to know their limitations. And, they had to know how to play the game. Respect was a big key. Carrie showed the same respect to her business adversaries which she expected in return. She’d earned it—deserved it—and she got it.

  Brad’s contemptible endeavor to insinuate Matthew in his scheme was a weak attempt to rattle her. If the Corridon name had been connected in any way, her contacts would have known.

  Clicking on the last email, she shut the computer down. Everything needing answers today was done. She picked up her handbag and headed for the door.

  The intercom buzzed again. “Matthew Corridon on line two.”

  Her heart jumped. She automatically stepped back to her desk, then froze. Brad’s little escapade reminded her of what she should not have forgotten. Men were untrustworthy.

  What about Matthew?

  Was he leading her on a merry chase? Waiting for the right moment to lure her in? She’d taken the bait. Hook, line, and sinker. She’d been acting like a teenager. Was she blinded to the fact that Matthew could have been a partner in Brad’s crime? Had Matthew sought her out to take advantage of her? Of her company?

  Carrie thought back over the last month. She’d been lusting after Matthew like a dog after a bone. He was a man. How could she have forgotten? Hadn’t she learned anything? Maybe he couldn’t be trusted either.

  Oh God. She couldn’t do this right now. She had to believe him innocent. Because she just couldn’t stomach anything else.

  Carrie pushed the intercom button. “Brenda. Tell him I’m in conference.”

  Silence.

  After the way Carrie behaved these past months, acting like a starry-eyed teenager, no wonder she’d taken her assistant by surprise.

  “Okaaaay. What if he asks when you will be available?”

  “I won’t.” Carrie released the button. She gave Brenda enough time to end the call. She didn’t have long to wait before Brenda came dashing through the office door.

  “Carrie. Are you all right?”

  Eyes forward, she charged past a flustered Brenda. “I’m fine. Finish up and go home.”

  “Carrie. Wait.”

  She stopped with her fingers inches from the door. Turning, she gave her assistant the same look as the one she gave the executives in the boardroom, the no nonsense look. The look that said—I dare you to challenge me. “Yes?”

  Brenda recognized the look, for she knew it well. She took a step backward as though she’d been slapped.

  Hell. It wasn’t her fault.

  Carrie felt like an uncaring, browbeating bitch. No sense in being a bitch if you didn’t act like one. It had certainly gotten her through men’s intimidating inspections.

  From the expressions moving over her assistant’s face, Brenda obviously changed her mind on the words she’d been about to speak. Holding out a piece of paper, she asked, “Don’t you want to know what he said?”

  “Put it on my desk. I’ll look at it tomorrow.”

  “But . . . he’s expecting you to call him back.”

  “Do you make assumptions for me, Brenda?” Carrie regretted her sharp tone as soon as she saw the stricken look cross Brenda’s face, although she recovered quickly. She’d been with Carrie long enough to know she would not put up with a spineless assistant.

  Brenda straightened her backbone and aimed her dainty nose at the ceiling. “No, ma’am. Is there anything else I can do for you before you go?”

  Carrie headed for the door, “Lock up and go home.”

  Chapter 23

  Carrie pressed the elevator button ten times before the doors mercifully opened. The blood at her temples pounded harder. She should have taken some aspirin, which she would remedy as soon as she got home. Four shiny walls closed in on her while the numbers lit up each floor. She let out a breath and anticipated the opening on the lobby floor, ready to bolt the moment the doors divided.

  Freedom.

  Bright chandeliers gleamed off the luminous floors. Her heels echoed tapping off the polished surface.

  “Miss Stratton.”

  Louder than a normal hello, Carrie wondered if she’d not heard him the first time.

  “Mr. Williamson?” she said.

  How ironic she’d been thinking of him earlier. She owed him big time. After all, it had been one of Williamson’s company employees who exposed Brad. Williamson’s firm was well known and well respected. He and his associates were among the contacts who had given their approval which helped to establish her career.

  “I was on my way to your office. I know I didn’t have an appointment.”

  “Mr. Williamson, you don’t need an appointment.”

  “Douglas, please. Mr. Williamson makes me sound so old. Besides, we are friends, aren’t we?” A smile curved his lips and his eyes warmed. Nearing sixty, with white hair, he was still an attractive man.

  “Of course we are. How could you ask after the way you saved my bacon?”

  “You usually keep later hours.”

  “The firm is open. I needed to run an errand.”

  “I’m glad I caught you before you left.” He tilted his head and took a step closer. “I hope I’m not making you late for another appointment.”

  “Not at all. What can I do for you?” She didn’t mean to appear short. He’d caught her off guard, the second time today.

  “Miss Stratton.” When Carrie quickly lifted her brow, he cleared his throat, “Um, Carrie, do you have a few moments to spare?”

  “Of course. Would you like to come up to my office?”

  “It’s nothing so serious. Since you’re on your way out, and if you’re sure I’m not keeping you from anything important, how about we go around the corner to that nice Russian Tea Room. They have a quiet lounge. Some of the members of my firm go there after work to unwind.”

  “Why, Mr. Williamson, if it’s a drink you have in mind, I would be delighted.” She could use one right about now.

  Douglas shifted his coat to his other arm, and in a grand gesture, motioned to the front of the lobby. A man in uniform gave a two-finger salute, as she and Douglas walked past.

  People rushed down the sidewalk. Having no idea of the time, Carrie glanced at her watch.

  “Are you sure I’m not intruding on your time?”

  “Of course not. I didn’t expect the street to be this busy. It’s not exactly rush hour.”

  “I bet you keep such long hours most everyone is home by the time you leave your office.” He gently touched her elbow and guided her to the right side of the walkway.

  “You’re correct. Some days I keep exceptionally long hours.”

  “Then today is a treat. For me and for you. Come”

  As soon as they entered the establishment, the attendant greeted Douglas with a smile.

  “Ah, Mr. Williamson. How good to see you this evening. And you have brought a lovely guest.” His eyes glowed with admiration.

  “This is Carrie Stratton. Do you suppose you might find us a private corner?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Williamson. Miss Stratton.” He gave a slight bow of his he
ad. “Please follow me.”

  He led them through a foyer into another room bursting with bright reds and shining glass. Even with bold colors, the cocktail lounge had a welcoming atmosphere. A large hearth of dark wood held a blazing fire. Warmth drew her.

  “Unbelievable” was the first thought in Carrie’s brain.

  Breathtaking, the next.

  She’d been to the dining room before, but never the Bear Lounge. A mountain of a bear loomed at the end of the room. Completely transparent. She stared at the image of the animal’s arms juggling luminous gold balls.

  At her escort’s chuckle, she realized she’d come to a complete stop.

  “Quite the eye-catcher, hmmm,” Douglas said.

  “Quite,” Carrie breathed. She followed the grinning attendant to a nice cozy table.

  “The Traditional Cheesecake is on the menu, but there is nothing traditional about it. If dessert suits you,” Douglas said.

  “Nothing sweet. I think I’d just like something to drink. A glass of white wine.”

  “Gardner here will provide an excellent choice. I’d like a Scotch on the rocks.”

  “May I recommend Select Cheeses with Seasonal Garnish?”

  “That sounds excellent.”

  Carrie stretched her neck and shifted her head from side to side flexing her tense muscles. A quiet atmosphere and a cool drink with a friend seemed precisely the thing to keep her mind from the fiasco only moments before. She hated scenes. But she’d never backed down from a fight. And she’d never allowed a man to get the best of her.

  A movement to the right drew her attention. Two men entered the lounge and were seated several tables away.

  “So. What do you think?” Douglas asked.

  “Impressive. The next time I entertain clients at The Russian Tea Room, I’ll make sure I visit the lounge.”