All In Trilogy: Book Bundle + Bonus Content
Page 17
The only reason she even knew the emblem of any NFL team was because Cole had briefly entertained the idea of purchasing one about three years ago. Eager for a billionaire to own their team, marketing departments from across the country had flooded his beach bungalow with merchandise. Skye held back a smile at the memory: she and Cole had spent a whole weekend sorting through NFL crap, putting it into piles and researching teams, only for Cole to realize it’d be a poor fit. He ended up scrapping the whole thing, donating the gear to children’s hospitals and charities, and treating her to a spa day for wasting her time.
Back then, she hadn’t thought it was a waste of time. Even though she had been drowning in homework, being with Cole, just the two of them in sweats surrounded by mountains of NFL swag, sushi takeout for just about every meal, had been Skye’s idea of a perfect weekend.
Quintin Cocksman’s almost too-hard handshake brought her firmly back to reality, and her smile faltered. If she wanted to get over Cole, reminiscing had to be off the table.
Screwing Finn should also be off the table, but Skye had already dropped the ball on that one.
“Please, have a seat,” Quintin insisted, gesturing to a pair of black and silver chairs in front of his desk. Neither had an inch of padding anywhere, and once she settled into one, Skye could confirm that sitting on a boulder would probably be more comfortable.
And better for her back.
Years of wearing convincing fake smiles for Cole’s social circle had prepared her for instances like this, and she managed to effortlessly hide her discomfort.
“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering what you’re doing here,” Quintin said after he took a seat behind his sleek glass desk, hands folded on top of it.
“Well, a little.” Skye hoped her smile continued to look natural, rather than showing the strain she was starting to feel. “Your secretary wasn’t very specific on the phone.”
“We’ve had another look at your résumé,” he told her. “First, thank you for submitting it. The cover letter was very thoughtful.”
She bit the insides of her cheeks: all her cover letters had been the same, minus a few tweaked sentences to make them seem unique to the specific job in question. “Thank you.”
“We’ve decided to go ahead and offer you a position here with us at this location,” he said, “in management.”
For a few long seconds, all Skye heard was a high-pitched whine, the world fading in and out of focus until she blinked. Had she heard him right? She was being offered a job somewhere she hadn’t formally interviewed at—after they had already rejected her?
“I’m sorry,” she said, her laugh sounding mildly maniacal. “You’re going to have to repeat that. I don’t…understand.”
“I just think you’d be a good fit for our corporate environment,” he insisted, though Skye didn’t believe him—and she wasn’t sure why. The lack of enthusiasm in his voice? His dark, dead eyes? Something felt off.
“But… I haven’t interviewed.” She shook her head, all pretenses of fake smiling gone. “Your hiring manager rejected my application almost immediately.”
“We get so many applications,” he said, motioning toward the huge window behind him. Below, out among the pines and cedars, was where most of the historical reenactments took place. “A lot of actors looking for work… The hiring department gets swamped sometimes. I do apologize.”
Again, Skye didn’t believe him. “Okay.”
“The position would entail managing the interns and assistants at this location,” Quintin explained without missing a beat, his head cocked to one side as he studied her—perhaps searching for something beyond Skye’s bewildered expression. “You’ll manage day-to-day operations of the exhibits, which the interns and assistants run, and ensure our guest needs are met in the gift shop, the washing stations, and the colonial village. Does that sound like something you would be interested in?”
Skye stared at him, finally deciding that he was serious, and answered honestly. “No. Not really.”
Ten brutally awkward seconds later, she cleared her throat, realizing she might come across as disrespectful.
“No, I’m sorry.” She forced her smile back up. “It’s just… I’ve accepted a position elsewhere and I’m not interested in leaving.”
Was it glamorous to sell tickets at Gallery Sens? No, but Skye had the opportunity to establish herself, learn a lot, and work her way up. Managing a whole team of people at an enormous museum facility was totally out of her realm of experience right now. Skye couldn’t imagine being responsible for anything beyond her little kingdom. She had been upset about it when she was first hired, considering she was older than most of the other candidates and had a university degree. However, the more time she spent at her new job, the more she realized she wasn’t qualified for much else. Classroom knowledge translated somewhat to the real world, but there was still a lot to learn otherwise.
And Skye wanted to prove she could work her way up from the bottom. She wanted to get to the top knowing she had insider knowledge and experience of every position below.
“Ah. Well.” Quintin leaned back in his chair. “That’s perfectly fine. No harm done.”
Skye tried not to frown at him; couldn’t this conversation have happened over the phone—or an email? Had she really needed to waste money on a cab, and lose a huge chunk of her day off, driving out here?
“Thank you,” she said, resisting the urge to sprint the hell out of the building, “for the offer. It’s very generous, but I wouldn’t feel right taking it when I’ve just started working elsewhere. I also don’t think I’m qualified for it, honestly.”
He grinned, seeming more relaxed. “I appreciate your candor. Please tell Mr. Daniels that an offer was, at the very least, extended—”
“Wait,” she said, leaning forward and pressing a hand down on his desk. “What did you just say?”
For a few long seconds, he looked at her like she was crazy—or that this was a practical joke of some kind. “Er, Cole Daniels? You two are, uh…” He gestured between Skye and himself, as if that explained what he meant. “He and I are both creative arts patrons. We met at a fundraiser about three weeks ago and he wouldn’t let me leave until I promised to find you a position. He said you’d be the best person for the job and that I was a fool if I didn’t at least sit down with you. I’m sorry it took me so long to follow up, I’ve just been busy with…”
Tuning out his reasoning, Skye fell back in her chair and winced at the way the backrest cut into her back just under her shoulder blades. Cole had done what? A flood of emotions ripped through her all at once: appreciation, rage, discomfort, nostalgia, irritation, love… The list went on, and Skye could feel her cheeks heating up as each one made itself known across her body.
“I’m so sorry that Mr. Daniels wasted your time, Mr. Cox,” she said stiffly as she stood, unsure if she had cut him off or not. “And thank you for the offer.”
They shook hands again, with Quintin staring up at her warily like she was a bomb about to go off, and Skye marched out of his office with her hands in fists. The high-pitched ringing in her ears returned as she stalked through the management building, unable to think coherently until she reached the roundabout loop at the main doors where her cab had dropped her off.
It was quite peaceful out there now that the wind had died down, surrounded by thick forest, birds twittering in the distance. The visitor portion of the museum was on the other side of the management lodge; here, just for a moment, she was totally alone. Nothing but her and early-August greenery as far as the eye could see.
Her gaze darted from tree to tree, unable to think, to process, to grasp, that Cole had meddled in her professional career. Their sugar daddy contract had been severed. Skye no longer had any affiliation with the agency that had matched them four years ago. For all intents and purposes, she and Cole were broken up—yet he still thought he had a right to stick his nose in her business. Sure, this job was a marked improvement
from her current position, but that wasn’t the point. Knowing Cole, he had her best interests in mind, but again—that wasn’t the fucking point.
Jaw clenched, she retrieved her phone and called for another cab. When the operator asked if she would be returning to the location they had originally picked her up at—her apartment…Cole’s apartment—Skye hesitated.
“No,” she said thickly, her voice catching. “I have a new destination in mind, actually…”
18
You Fucking Twat
“Garrett Jones will be a good fit,” Cole insisted as he took the long, winding bend leading up to his Coral Bay vacation home. His eyes flickered to the mirror—not a soul behind him—then down to the built-in touch screen on his dash. The call had been in progress for the last twenty minutes, but he felt like he’d been going on and on about this for hours. “See that the salary is higher than average… Significantly.”
Marta Jensen, his tech empire’s CFO, sighed into the phone. “You can’t keep doing this with every new person we hire.”
“I can and I will.” He clicked the remote for his front gate when it came into view, nestled between large cement walls. “Marta, I want to step back from things, and I need to know the people I’m delegating to will take the job seriously.”
“That’s why we’re offering them the position,” she argued, “because after an exhaustive interview process, they’ve proved that they will. Cole, you’re driving me up the wall.”
He grinned, slowing his navy Bugatti Veyron as the gate swung open. “I know. I appreciate it. You know how I am.”
“That I do.” Marta had been with him from the beginning. At almost fifteen years his senior, with immense experience in the industry, she was an invaluable asset. Without her and a few of the other top-tier personnel, Cole wouldn’t have been able to get to where he was today. His fortune would have gone to someone else, and he probably would have been writing code for them in a dingy cubicle. Or on some ridiculous communal bean bag chair. Skill and ingenuity got you far in the ever-growing tech and cyber security industry, but you needed a whole crew of people with vastly different, and sometimes superior, skill sets if you wanted to dominate the market.
Which Cole had.
And the thought of handing off a sizeable percentage of his usual responsibilities, responsibilities most other CEOs wouldn’t be caught dead doing, had been giving him heart palpitations all month. Literally. His private physician was about ten seconds away from medicating him if Cole didn’t get his anxiety back under control. He knew, logically, that easing away only slightly and passing off some of his workload to capable, competent people was the right thing to do. He worked himself to death just about every year, and Coral Bay—with Skye Summers nearby—had been his medically-mandated retreat where he forced himself to recoup and refocus to get through the rest of the year.
But if he wanted to pursue a relationship with the woman he loved, all that needed to stop. He could still work, of course, but as he and Finn had agreed, Cole needed to do so significantly less. So, here he was, managing interviews from his car even though he had promised Finn he’d take the next two weeks off to really concentrate on the task ahead. He couldn’t help himself—and it didn’t hurt anyone if he could efficiently multitask. The trunk of his newest car was full of cat toys, bedding, food, and litter for Oz’s upcoming birthday. He had spent most of the day bouncing between specialty pet boutiques, and afterward he hadn’t seen any harm in checking up on things with Marta on the drive home. Once he was parked, he’d hang up and get to wrapping.
Maybe. Maybe he’d stay on the phone a little while longer to find out about a few of the other corporate positions they were trying to fill. His assistant had been rather deft at fielding calls from the office this week, which meant Cole was out of the loop and panicking. Being out of the loop meant being out of control. He didn’t know what was happening with his company, or to his employees, and that only made his anxiety worse.
But he had to do it. For Skye, he would do it.
Speaking of Skye… Cole swallowed hard when he spotted an unexpected yet gorgeously familiar figure sitting on his front stoop, her arms crossed, her coppery waves caught in the wind, and her face pinched in annoyance.
“Marta, I’ll have to call you back. Just move forward with salary negotiations,” Cole said quickly as Skye stood, her hands in fists. “Remember to offer significantly higher than—”
“Industry standard, I know,” his CFO muttered, and Cole disconnected the line with a quick tap, tap, tap around the custom built-in screen. Feeling his palms starting to sweat, he parked the car on the far side of the driveway near the path down to the beach, needing a bit of a buffer between himself and Skye—if only to get his panic under control.
She looked upset. Angry, more like. Cole would probably only need one guess as to what had her in a tizzy, but he’d rather her come right out and say it.
God, she was beautiful, even when she was angry. He’d always thought so, from the second he saw her picture on that dreadful sugar daddy website all those years ago, right up until now. Stunning in every sense of the word. He wasn’t sure what he’d done in a past life to have her feature so prominently in this one, but he must have been some kind of saint or something.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, he popped his sunglasses on his head, cut the car engine, and hurried out. By the time he closed the door, Skye was about five feet from him.
Do not leer at her. No matter what kinds of wonderful things that skirt does for her hips, do. not. leer.
“Skye,” he said as he slid his clammy hands into his pockets. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
Cole did his best to sound calm, cool, and collected, but he hadn’t felt any of those things since the night of Finn’s sex party. There had always been a much-needed, much-cherished sense of comfort between him and Skye; it was something Cole found himself craving whenever they were apart, sometimes longing for it so desperately it physically hurt. However, ever since that night, and all the fuckery he’d wrought upon their relationship after, the comfort was gone. Something had shifted between them. Something had changed.
Change was good. People said it all the time. But change was hard, and Cole had never been very good at it. Not as a highly anxious, socially inept child, and not now, as a less anxious, still somewhat socially inept man who had learned to fake his confidence when necessary.
Things had always been easy with her. His best friend. The woman he felt most at ease with, no matter the situation. She bolstered his confidence—she made him brave, even if she didn’t know it. All the racing thoughts, the fears, the stress, it all disappeared when they were together. Skye Summers and writing his own code: two of the best forms of anxiety medication he’d ever known, besides his actual medication. Now, however, it seemed every little thing he did in an effort to repair his previous fuck-ups just made the distance between them even greater.
Being so close to her in that moment, not able to touch her, to smile at her as he once did, made his stomach knot so tightly that he almost doubled over.
“Stop,” she said, raising a hand to silence him, a fury burning in those hazel eyes he’d never seen before. “Just answer honestly.”
“Always.” The word slipped out before he could stop it. Cole mentally kicked himself when her gaze narrowed.
“Did you, or did you not, force Quintin Cocksman to give me a job?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say force—”
“Cole!”
She’d yelled at him. Skye had never yelled at him before. Cole stared at her for a moment, from the red in her cheeks to the fire in her eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a snide little voice commented that in all their history, Skye had been his sugar baby. She owed her university degree, her home, and her financial standing to him. Perhaps that had kept her from ever yelling before. He raised his chin, unsure if that theory had any validity, and squared his shoulders.
“I like my job!” She threw her hands in the air and started pacing. “Is it everything I could have hoped for and more? No, but it’s mine.”
His anxiety retreated into the recesses of his person, allowing the frustration he’d been feeling for her to come to the forefront. “Skye, you are more intelligent, more capable, and certainly more qualified than selling tickets.”
“That might be your opinion—”
“It’s fact.”
“But it’s not your decision to make!” She rounded back on him, angrily brushing her loose red waves from her face. “It’s my life. It’s my job, my career, and I got it on my own. You had no right to meddle like that. We’re not even…” The colour drained from her face, and she crossed her arms, her gaze lifting skyward. “Cole, we’re not together anymore. You don’t get to have a hand in how I manage my career. The choice to be there is mine. I earned it.”
He opened his mouth, ready and able to counter with a few thoughts of his own, but thought better of it. Head bowed, he stared at the stone pattern of his driveway, suddenly feeling rather foolish—not an uncommon thing these days.