He whips around from the darkening view of the late afternoon skyline. “No? Then why was that higher deal proposed through finance without Nikko’s approval?”
“Because I was the lead acquisitions contact on the deal, not Nikko. I researched Parkerson’s office culture and realized they are a strongly knit group capable of anything they set their minds to. A higher offer would be more agreeable and less likely to piss them off. The last thing you want is them fighting us.”
“Really? The new offer was suspiciously drafted the next morning after the team’s initial proposal. Kind of late for you to be doing ‘research’ on an existing deal.”
My teeth grind together in anger. The bastard is fishing. No one knows of my dalliance with Heather except Marcus. He’d never sell me out, would he? I know he’s money hungry but I never thought he’d stab me in the back.
I go with my gut and assume he wouldn’t. Can’t slot the man guilty with no proof except for the hot air blown from this windbag.
I smile, hiding my true feelings like any successful businessman, and turn the tables on the prick. “Are you worried I may be right? That if you go half-cocked into Friday’s meeting with a lower offer, the deal will collapse?”
Brian’s smug expression falters, self-doubt briefly flitting across his features before being squashed behind a mien of confidence.
I’ve got him. “You might get shit-canned if you blow this deal, Brian. It’s the biggest one Nikko has let you handle.”
“Don’t worry about me. This deal is nailed up tight. I’d worry about your own sorry ass. After I close this buyout, I’ll be stepping up to take your job.”
I lean against the edge of my desk, slowly shaking my head. “You really think one deal will make a difference to Nikko?” I push off and saunter toward the door, waving my arm toward the exit to indicate the jerk needs to leave. “I’ve earned this company billions, Brian. Don’t underestimate my value.”
He stalks past, anger radiating off him. “And that’s the root of your problem, Tony.” He spins to face me. “You overestimate your worth. Ever think about the man you replaced before you were the golden child? I bet he thought his job was safe, too.”
The industrial carpet muffles his retreating footsteps as he storms down the hall. Idiot doesn’t even know the history of the company. No one had this job before me. Nikko trained me himself so he could supervise the overall company rather than micro-manage everyday operations.
I’m sick of these games. Life has to hold more than just bullshit and pissing matches.
A sigh escapes as I pick up the phone. A deep voice answers after two rings. “Sir? Do you have time to talk?” I rub my forehead, where a knot of tension gathers. “Great, I’ll see you in five.”
I pack my briefcase and head to do the hardest thing I’ve done since I started working. It’s going to be a long night.
Chapter Nineteen
Heather
Every day has been the same since Monday. I work later than I’d like and then return to my apartment to spend the rest of the night with Tony. Some nights we’re frantic for each other and others we relax in each other’s embrace, taking the time to explore and enflame for hours.
When morning arrives, I wake in his strong embrace and tension fills me with dread over what will happen to us. Every sunrise brings us one step closer to Friday’s meeting, where my lover learns I’ve been keeping a huge secret from him.
I met with Carla yesterday for lunch and spilled my guts. I filled her in on some of the details from last Friday night at the bar, our weekend in Hoboken, and every late night rendezvous we’ve shared since. I left out the really personal parts, but she got the main gist. She had no advice to give, other than the obvious, which was to tell him what I’ve been doing all week—and jeopardize my whole career in the process.
Really? What the hell kind of choice is that?
In hindsight, talking about my parent’s death explained some of my issues and why I’ve acted like I have. But not telling him I’ve worked the past week and a half to ruin his buyout runs precariously close to lying.
No one loves a liar.
Did I miss my window? Should I have told him everything last weekend in the car?
Can’t change the past, so might as well look toward the future.
A future that could be without Tony.
I’ve got everything I ever dreamed for my career: a stable job, higher pay, a new position on the board. Would the fates be so cruel that I would have to choose either a great job or a great love—and not have both?
Tony shifts in the bed next to me, drawing my attention to here and now. Today feels as wonderful as the others this week. I lazily stroke my hand down his forearm, hoping to steal one last moment together before he discovers my lies later today. I turn in his arms and kiss his neck, desperation adding an edge to my passion. Tony responds instantly and we make love, fast and furious while the sun rises.
“Incredible.” Tony holds me close, a drip of sweat running from his face to mine. “I can’t think of a better way to wake.”
I blink back the wetness gathering in my eyes and breathe in his musky male scent. Seventeen glorious days, and it could be over. Will it be my last morning with the man I love? Surely what we’re feeling is strong enough to get past anything, right?
The boardroom at Apollo feels stifling the moment I step inside. It’s not the temperature; the air conditioning is working, if the goose bumps on my arms are a good judge. It’s the emotional tension. This deal means a lot to both parties gathered around the conference room table.
Them versus us.
I see Marcus, and a new guy I’ve never met, with two other men who were at the first meeting. The woman who took minutes at our initial gathering isn’t here. But a younger lady sits at a small console behind the conference table, her laptop open and ready.
On our side of the proceedings, we’re missing Harvey, whose early retirement was the only visible major change at Parkerson the past week. Under the surface, gliding below the radar of Apollo, the board has been working hard to hire good salesmen, move money around, and generally shore up our financial standing.
It worked. We’re about to drop the bomb on Apollo. They have no idea. A fluttering of pride in my accomplishments warms my heart. Unfortunately, a flashy title and higher salary might be the only things warming me when winter rolls around. I scan the boardroom for Tony, wondering if he’s in a connecting bathroom or something.
My stomach lurches. God, I feel like I’m going to puke from the stress.
Everyone takes their seats and the new man with slick black hair and a dark blue suit stands. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
My eyes dart to the conference room door. “Where’s Ton—I mean, Mr. Carmine?”
A twisted grin turns up the edges of the new man’s lips. “He was removed from the deal last week. I’m Brian Logan. I’ll be handling the buyout from here.”
What? Who the hell is this guy? I want to scream and shout questions, but it’s not my place to ask. What could have happened that Tony was taken off the deal?
A blush warms my face as I look toward Marcus. Did he tell the owner about what took place last week in Tony’s office? Oh my God, I’d die from mortification if it comes out.
I snatch my cell off the table and angle it under the edge, out of view, before discreetly texting Tony. Why aren’t you here? What happened?
My new boss, Oliver Sayers, rests his briefcase on the table and with great ceremony withdraws five identical folders. The Apollo men look on stoically, oblivious to the world of hurt we’re about to rain on them with our successful plotting.
My screen flashes with Tony’s response. I’m no longer with Apollo. Focus on your meeting. We’ll talk later.
Holy crap! Was Tony fired? How the hell are we going to work past this if I’m responsible for him losing his job? Why didn’t he tell me? Was this morning a “good-bye” lay and I didn’t know it?
The fran
tic thoughts whirl in my head while a throat clearing from Oliver acts as a gentle reminder to put down my phone. I scramble to apply myself, torn between the drama unfolding inside of me and in front of me. My boss stands and hands a large packet to Brian, then leaves the duplicates on the table, gesturing for the other men to retrieve their copy. “This was prepared by our lawyers. Please take time to read through it.”
Brian’s face freezes as he reaches inside to draw out a thick sheaf of papers.
“As you’ll find, it outlines a cease and desist on the proposed buyout.” Oliver can’t hold back his smug look of satisfaction any longer. “We’ve restructured and won’t be agreeing to the merger.”
The elation flowing from our side of the table feels almost palpable. I want nothing more than to pump my fist in the air and yell, “In your face!” but I manage to hold my professional self in check. Worry over Tony and his job loss weighs on me, helping to keep my mouth shut.
Oliver chooses Brian’s shell-shocked moment to collect his things, signaling we should follow suit. The rest of the Parkerson board members, including me, pack up and move toward the exit.
“Now wait just a damn minute,” Brian calls out, an edge of hysteria creeping into his tone. “If it’s about money, we can talk.”
Marcus meets my eyes, a glow of respect gleaming in his gaze. The pride I’m experiencing in this moment over my part in saving the company warms me from my head to my toes. I get the feeling Marcus didn’t say anything about Tony and me, and he probably won’t. He winks at me, the only sign in his stoic expression that he’s not as righteously angry as his co-worker Brian.
Oliver pauses to respond to Brian and I raise my hand to show I’ve got this one. “Mr. Logan, it isn’t always about money. Sometimes it’s about doing what’s right.” The Apollo employee’s face flushes dark red as he clamps his mouth shut on whatever venom he was about to spew.
My new boss nods in my direction, a smile of appreciation on his face. I hold my head high as we leave, eager to get the heck out before the man inside starts yelling. As we walk to the elevator, I dig out my phone to text Tony. In my anxiousness to reach him, I don’t pay attention and run into Oliver.
We bump solidly and the phone flies out of my hand to crash onto the marble tiles in front of the elevator. I scramble to retrieve it.
“Heather,” Oliver begins, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “can’t it wait ‘til we get back to our floor?”
Panic seizes me as I turn over the phone to discover the shattered screen. Dammit! Why are these expensive pieces of crap so delicate?
The elevator dings and we file inside, me clutching the broken phone to my chest. The doors close and I press every button on the damn bit of plastic hoping for some kind of response.
Nothing.
What the hell am I going to do? Will Tony even want to see me if I caused this whole debacle?
“Heather?” Oliver asks, his tone softer now after looking at my face. “Has something happened?”
I look into his concerned expression and try not to scream in frustration. “My friend lost his job.” I bite back, sobbing out: And I have no other way of contacting him except through this broken phone. I can’t believe I never recorded Tony’s number anywhere but my cell. Idiot!
“It’ll work out. And hey, if he’s a good fit for Parkerson, have him send us his resumé.”
I muffle a choke deep in my throat. I’m sure we’d hire the corporate raider who almost took down our company. “Thank you for the suggestion, but he’s not in our industry.”
Dear God, did his involvement with me get him removed from the deal and fired? Will he be blackballed and unable to get hired anywhere?
As the elevator makes its slow and ponderous journey downward, I comb through every nuance in Marcus’s behavior at the meeting. I was sure he didn’t rat us out—and I still am. Could someone else have seen us or suspected what we did in Tony’s office last week?
The elevator stops at half a dozen floors on the way down to ours. The tension in me threatens to snap when a group of businessmen climb on, tightly packing the small box. A confusing mix of cologne, body odor, perfume, and cigarettes causes my stomach to clench. I swallow the bile edging up my throat.
The doors finally open on our floor and the Parkerson employees push out. Oliver pats my shoulder saying, “Call your friend from your office.” He smiles, looking assured he’s offered me a solution I couldn’t have thought of on my own.
The CEO moves away, heading down the hall. I race to my desk, desperately trying to remember Tony’s cell number. I scribble down several combinations, none of which are complete and therefore, worthless to try.
The phone on my cluttered desk rings, jarring me out of my useless task. I reach over a cold cup of coffee, feeling jittery, hoping it’s Tony.
“Want to meet for lunch?” Carla asks. Relief floods me at the sound of a sane voice.
“Oh God, I’m so glad you called. I’m totally screwed and trying to figure out what to do.”
“What happened? Didn’t you have that big meeting today?”
“Yes, I did. It went fine, we blocked the buyout—but you’re not going to believe this—Tony wasn’t there. I think he was fired.”
“No way! Why would they fire him over losing one deal?”
I can’t tell her about what we did in his office. That would be enough to get anyone fired. Assuming someone reported us. “I have no idea.” Liar. It’s all your fault.
“Have you talked to him? I’m sure he’ll tell you.”
I stifle the tears tottering to fall. “I can’t reach him. I dropped my cell as we were leaving—damn thing broke. And I don’t have his number written down anywhere!”
“Okay, calm down. I bet there’s one of those little data cards in the back of the phone that records all your info.”
“Oh my God, you’re right. You’re a lifesaver. How do I get to it?” Eager for action, I flip the phone over and pry up the back. “What am I looking for?”
“I think it’s under the battery.”
I leverage out the battery, fumbling due to the desk phone wedged between my shoulder and neck. “I think I got it.” The tiny square of plastic holding all my data slips out of my awkward grasp and falls into the half full mug. “Holy hell! I just fucking dropped it into coffee!”
“Get it out, you fool! Why didn’t you wait and let the tech guy at the phone store do it?”
I dump my coffee in the trash and fish through its contents for the chip. I stretch the phone cord to its limit, dragging the base across my desk in my haste. “You couldn’t have suggested that before telling me where it was located?”
“Don’t blame me! I’m not the one who broke her phone.”
I take a relieved breath as my fingers close over the tiny piece of plastic. “Got it! But it probably won’t work now will it?”
“Dunno. It might. Give it some time to dry out.”
“Might?” I choke at the end of the question. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
“I’ve heard uncooked rice helps.”
“What? How?”
“Absorbs the moisture.”
I climb up off the floor, the madness of the past twenty minutes exhausting me, and slump into my desk chair. So, if I had a bag of rice and a hairdryer I might be able to reach Tony. Tears gather again as I have no idea what to do.
“Heather? Are you okay?”
“No.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What a mess.”
“Do you know where he lives? Maybe he’s at home. You know…since he’s no longer working.”
“Great idea!” Hope zings through me, propelling me out of the chair. “Gotta go. Thanks, Carla!”
I hang up while she’s still sputtering, grab my purse, and rush out. I wave hastily to my new assistant, calling over my shoulder that I’m going for a long lunch.
The streets of Manhattan are packed on this glorious spring day. Seems like everyone and their uncle are out for lunc
h, too. I twist and squirm my way through the crowds, eager to get to Tony’s building.
What will I say when I see him? Do I tell him I’ve fallen in love with him? Will it even matter if I’m the reason he was fired?
Calm down. If he was mad at you he never would have made love to you this morning.
Really? Like a man would never sleep with someone when presented with the opportunity, right?
You know Tony’s not like that with you.
He was like that at one time, when he was more of a player, wasn’t he? What makes me think he’s any different now?
Tony’s gorgeous building bordering the park comes into view and I hurry into the lobby, unwilling to let my fears rule my actions. One of the fussy staff members behind the concierge desk smiles in welcome, offering assistance.
“Would you call up to Tony Carmine’s unit and let him know he has a guest?”
A dark haired woman of Latin descent answers, “Mr. Carmine moved out on Wednesday.” My heart crumbles at the admission. Tears threaten and I stifle a small sob of frustration. “Are you okay?”
I nod and briskly turn away. I’ll be damned if I beg her for his contact information. Considering how upscale this place is, I doubt she’d reveal anything anyway.
That leaves one alternative—his building in Hoboken. He’s either been going there each day when we’d leave for work in the morning or staying someplace else while he looks for a new job.
I take a deep breath and push through the lobby doors, nodding to the doorman on my way past. The only immediate solution I can think of is to go to my place and hope he comes to see me.
Assuming he doesn’t despise me for getting him fired.
Didn’t seem like he despised you this morning when he was calling out your name.
How much of what we shared was real and how much of it did I imagine to mean more? Maybe I’m just another fling for the jet-setting playboy. Have I projected all my new feelings onto him, hoping what we had was mutual?
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