“So, just be discrete,” I concluded. “That’s your advice?”
Shane started gnawing on her lower lip as her eyes swung back and forth between me and Mason. “Okay. Don’t take this the wrong way,” she warned, “but you Buchanan men are a little…uhm, a lot…you guys are a lot when you go after something.” That’s fair. I gave her that while Mason just grunted. “Denise is not a young, starry-eyed co-ed or file clerk, Aiden. She’s an independent adult who’s worked her ass off to be where she is today. You have to be more than discrete with this,” she advised. “You need to find a way to balance discretion and lust with respect.”
I ran a hand through my hair. I heard what she was saying. I really did. But…the more independent Denise was, the more I wanted to lock that shit down.
“Just put her happiness before yours and you’ll be fine, Aiden,” Mason added.
I looked over at him. “Just like that? That easy?”
Mason laughed. “Hell, no,” he replied. “A woman’s happiness is never easy.” Shane slapped his chest. Mason ignored her brutality. “But that’s because with women there are too many things that can make them sad. It’s almost inevitable that you’re going to fuck up at some point, Aid.”
“Thanks, Mase,” I said, sarcastically. “That’s a big help.”
Shane rolled her eyes and then lasered her hazel eyes at me. “Respect, Aiden” she repeated. “Just remember to respect her.”
I thanked them…for nothing…and then headed towards my office, letting them get back to…being a happily married couple.
As I replayed Shane’s words in my head, I worried that I might not be able to juggle those three requirements. It wasn’t that I didn’t respect Denise, because I did. And I had the run of this place, discretion shouldn’t be a problem, especially if she did start working with Shane.
It was the lust part that I was going to struggle with.
Now that I’ve had her, I found myself wanting to bury my dick in her all day long. I hadn’t wanted either of us to have to come to work this morning, and if I ran into her, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to keep myself from dragging her into the nearest supply closet and just fucking the shit out of her.
She had me addicted to everything about her, and I was not looking for a cure.
I shut the door to my office, hoping the peace and quiet will help me come up with a reasonable plan to make sure this thing between me and Denise didn’t backfire. I sat down and picked up the phone calling the one person who could always be objective.
“Jesus Christ. You do realize what time it is right?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m in love with a woman who has issues with my occupation, finances, age and race, Michael. You can lose out on a few hours of beauty sleep for this,” I scoffed at him. “Oh, and not to mention, we’ve only known each other two weeks.”
The phone was silent on the other end and I wasn’t sure if Michael was processing or trying to wake up. I got my answer when he said, “Okay. There’s absolutely nothing you, or she, can do about your ages or the color of your skin. Those are facts that cannot be changed.”
“Agreed…”
“So, ignore those, because it’ll be like beating a dead horse. Nothing you say or do will change those two facts.” Okay. I got that. “As for your money, explain how it’s not your money. None of what we have is because we earned it. It’s family money, and even our inheritance when we reach 30 was set up by our grandfather. Make it so she can’t blame you for something else that is out of your control.”
“What about our jobs and only knowing each other for two weeks?”
“I can’t help you with the two weeks thing, but if it’ll make her feel better, tell her to hang on for two years and I’ll switch departments with you when I graduate,” he answered, easily. And that was what made Michael special. Michael’s love was absolute. And it showed in the fact that he was willing to change the entire structure of his future and go into finance instead of personnel to make the woman I chose feel better about our relationship. Not to make me feel better, but to make her feel better about being with me.
I was at a loss for words. “Thanks, Mike.”
“Thank me by letting me go back to sleep,” he joked.
I hung up and got to work.
Chapter 11
Denise~
I snuck into work like I’d just stolen the Hope Diamond.
Now that it was a bright, sunny Monday morning, and my mind wasn’t being blown by Aiden’s hands, mouth, tongue and penis, the reality of what we were doing was really hitting home. When I stopped by Sarah’s desk to get an update on the morning’s activities, I was positive she could see Aiden’s ownership all over my being.
“Hey, Boss Lady,” she said, smiling way too cheerfully for a Monday morning.
“Good Morning, Sarah,” I greeted back, pray that guilt and regret weren’t plastered all over my face. “Okay, hit me with it and tell me everything I need to know.”
She chucked. “The good news is that it’s Monday,” she began.
I raised my brows. “That’s good news?”
This time her smile faltered, and she grimaced a bit. “It is when you realize that the Sam-Martin account isn’t adding up, but you have all week to figure it out.”
I could feel my spirit deflate. If there was ever an account I needed to be perfect, it was the Sam-Martin account. Mr. Raymond Samson was as wealthy and entitled as they came. He was also good looking, with his blonde hair and blazing blue eyes, and he knew it.
He’d been an account with BI way before I ever graced its hallways, but when I got promoted and the account became one of the hundreds I oversaw, well, Mr. Samson wasn’t shy about how closely he wanted to work together.
I had been polite, yet firm, when I explained the conflict of interest-which makes me a total hypocrite now, after being with Aiden-and he had backed off, but not entirely. He still asked me to dinner and made off-the-cuff remarks. But he’s never crossed the line of inappropriateness, so I hadn’t made a big deal out of his come-ons.
“What’s not adding up?” I asked. “Do you know?”
Sarah shook her head. “Not in detail,” she answered. “Maxine just said something about some confusion with Mr. Samson’s personal spending versus company.” She shrugged her shoulder and handed me the file she had on Sam-Martin.
“But Mr. Martin’s spending is accurate?”
“I believe so. Maxine was on her way to a meeting and just kind of did a drive by,” she replied. “But she said she’d call you later to speak with you more about it.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Sarah.” I smiled at her and made my way to my office.
Once I made it through the door, I took off my coat, hung it up on the coat rack, along with my purse, and sat my sore ass down on my chair.
Aiden Buchanan was definitely a workout.
I opened the Sam-Martin file and started reading through it, trying to decipher some of it before talking with Maxine. I was confused by Sarah’s comment about personal spending. In all the years that I’ve headed this account, there have never been any personal purchases finding their way into the business portion of things.
About half an hour later, there was a knock on my doorframe, and I looked up to see Maxine standing at my door. I smiled. “Good Morning, Lady.”
She smiled back as she walked in and sat down in front of my desk. “Is it?” she quipped.
My eyes darted towards the papers on my desk. “I was just looking over some of your notes.”
Maxine winced. “Something’s off, Denise,” she muttered. Maxine was one of my three account specialists and she was damn good with numbers. Her work ethic was above reproach, so if she said something was off, then I believed her.
“Such as?”
Her pretty brown eyes shifted quickly before returning to mine. “May I be frank?” I extended my arm in a gesture for her to continue. “We’ve been handling this account for a while now, and it hasn’t be
en until you got promoted and put in charge of this account, that Mr. Samson has suddenly taken a great interest in the small details.” I did my best to don a perfect poker face. I knew where this was headed, but I wanted to be sure first. “This…this account is handled perfectly, Denise,” she stated. “I…I think Mr. Samson is making ridiculous purchases so he can…meet with you.”
I let out a sigh. She was right, of course. When I was first promoted, I reviewed every client under my responsibility and made sure each one was being handled at the standard to which Buchanan Industries insists upon.
I had met every client and had done my best to create a confident and professional relationship with each one of them. This level of expectation made it almost unnecessary to interact with a lot of the clients unless it was their annual review or something was wrong.
Well, it wasn’t Sam-Martin’s annual review yet.
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my lap. “Thanks, Maxine. I know you’re just trying to be helpful, and I agree,” I told her. “It’s odd for a company like Sam-Martin to suddenly go into confusion. And, yes, I’m very aware of Mr. Sampson’s interest in me.” I wasn’t going to treat her like she was stupid. “But, it’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, concerned. “Maybe you should talk with Mr. Buchanan about it?”
I sat up straight and placed my arms on my desk. “Maxine, I am not going to bother Mason Buchanan with…some number discrepancies, due to…a personal interest of one of our clients.”
Like hell I would go to Mason Buchanan for any damn thing.
The man was frightening as fuck.
“No. I meant Aiden Buchanan,” she said, correcting me.
I almost rolled my eyes.
At this stage of the game, I think I’d rather bother Mason Buchanan with this than go to Aiden and tell him a client is manipulating data so he can meet with me.
Dibtab.
Yeah. Mason was the better bet at this point.
I didn’t want Maxine to worry, though. “Yes, you’re right, Maxine. I had forgotten about Aiden Buchanan.” Uh…not. “I’ll schedule something with him for later this week.”
Maxine stood up. “Oh, good,” she breathed out. “It’s just…I don’t think Mr. Sampson is dangerous or anything like that. I just…well, his tactics are…well, tacky.”
I started chewing on my bottom lip. “Maybe,” I conceded, “But he’s still a client and we will treat him with the upmost respect unless or until he does something overly inappropriate.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said right before she gave me a bright smile and walked out of my office.
I waited until she was out of view before dropping my head on my desk. Now, my office door was open, and so anyone could walk by and see my face planted against the desk, but I didn’t care right now. I had bigger issues to consider than if I looked a fool. The first, and foremost being, what was I going to do about Aiden Buchanan?
All my life I played safely in the yard. I never toed over onto the sidewalk. I never ran into the street. I never ventured on over in the neighbor’s yard.
I. Always. Stayed. Perfectly. Safe.
I worked hard, paid all my bills on time, got my car routinely maintained, recycled…the works. Jesus Christ, my parents have even managed to move to a better neighborhood with the extra I send home from my paychecks after my promotion. And, with one five-minute handshake, I’ve managed to jeopardize my carefully constructed life because Aiden Buchanan stirred a fire in me I didn’t know could exist.
And, even though, I did run from him in a morning after panicking, I went back willingly, using his caveman ways as a weak excuse to do so. I pretended to put up a decent fight so I could feel better about myself when it was all over. But the plain fact of the matter was I knew sleeping with Aiden was wrong and I did it fucking, anyway.
It wasn’t just that he was my boss-which was bad enough in and of itself-but his wallet put him in a world I would never be comfortable in. I didn’t drink champagne or go to galas. Hell, I didn’t even know where the nearest Prada store was. I didn’t do fancy.
Then there was the fact that he was White and I was mixed. There was a lot of tolerance in the world today, but then, there was still a lot of prejudice, too. Growing up, witnessing how mixed couples were treated, I knew it was something I never wanted to have to endure.
Yes, I was half Caucasian, but like with most half-breeds, the African-American genes were more prominent. You could see it in my hair, my darker skin tone, and my never-ending curves. I always believed I’d end up marrying a strong, successful, charming African-American with the same likes and dislikes as me. I had it all worked out in my head. Our children would be mixed exactly like us and we’d live happily ever after as a perfectly mixed family. Mixed, but the same.
And then Aiden Buchanan walked into my life, shook my hand, and fucked up my entire plan. Now I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do.
Chapter 12
Aiden~
I wanted to pin a ribbon on my suit jacket.
I knew Denise was at work and I’ve managed to make it the entire day without going by her office, calling her into my office, or texting her a million times.
And I was losing my fucking mind.
I always knew Mason was a strong motherfucker, but I have a whole new appreciation for his self-control now. How he managed to stay away from Shane for three years is incomprehensible.
I was preparing for a meeting I had in a half hour when the door to my office swung open. I prayed beyond prayer that it was Denise here for a quickie, but as I looked up, my dick was disappointed that it wasn’t. Instead, Michael strolled in like he owned the place.
Which, I suppose he did, along with the rest of us.
I smiled. I was happy to see my little brother. “What’s doing?”
Michael smiled and dropped his ass down in one of the chairs across from me. “I should be asking you that? I’m not the one making six am goddamn phone calls,” he smirked.
I let out a deep sigh. “My good looks and charm aren’t working, Michael,” I joked.
“That’s because you and Mason aren’t as good looking and me and Gabriel,” he joked back.
“Okay, you asshole,” I laughed. “Are you really here checking up on me and my love life?”
His brows shot up with the obvious. “Well, of course, that’s why I’m here. Why else would I be in the same building where I could possibly run into Dad, if not for you or Mason?”
“Good point,” I muttered. While the rest of us have grown past our father’s existence, Michael still had a lot of deep-seeded hate for the man. “So, did you come up with any solutions for my dilemmas?”
He snorted. “You don’t have dilemmas, Aid. What you have is drama,” he corrected. “Unfortunately, it’s of the female variety, and I don’t think that ever goes away.”
“I’m going to tell Shane you said that,” I threatened.
Michael narrowed his eyes at me. “You tell her anything to make her sore with me and I will murder you, Aiden. Slowly and painfully and I’ll drag it out for days,” he replied…joking, I think.
“Okay, okay,” I chuckled. “No telling Shane anything.”
He leaned back in the seat and relaxed. “At any rate, you jackhole, what I meant was that as long as you’re a man in love with a woman, you’re always going to have drama. And you want to know why?”
“No,” I deadpanned, then rolled my eyes. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to beat yourself up trying to prove something to Denise that cannot be proven,” he went on to explain. “You cannot prove love, Aiden. You can’t prove an emotion. Even crying can be faked. You can tell someone a million times that you love them, but if they don’t feel it from you, what’s the point?”
“I’m still not understanding your point about drama, Michael,” I muttered. The kid was giving me a headache.
He let out a sigh. “The drama comes into play during the tim
es when she’s vulnerable and you’re going to be too stupid to pick up on it.”
“Fuck you, dude,” I yapped. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m the one who loves women. Out of all of us, I’m the one who’s guaranteed to pick up on a woman’s mood.”
Michael snorted at me again. “Kiss my ass, Aiden. You’ve always been the one who’s guaranteed to pick up on when a woman was horny and that’s about it. While your appreciation for the female species is duly noted, this is the first time you’ve ever been in love. You’re going to fuck it up just like most men the first time they don’t know what to do with themselves.”
Okay. He might have had a point.
I stood up and walked over to the floor to ceiling window that looked out over the city. “So, what do I do, Michael? I can’t change the things that might keep me from having her for good.”
He was silent for a few seconds before saying, “You love her beyond what she ever knew could exist, Aiden. The money is going to make her feel inferior, so you’re going to have to make her feel important. The difference in color is going to make her feel uncomfortable, so you’re going to have to make her feel at ease. The age difference is going to make her feel insecure, so you’re going to have to make her feel beautiful. The risk of sleeping with her boss is going to make her feel worried, so you’re going to have to make her feel secure.”
I let out a sarcastic huff. “Is that all?”
Michael didn’t say anything right away, but I heard him stand from the chair and walk his way over to stand next to me. We were both standing before the glass, hands in our pockets, looking out at the life of the city. It was another few seconds before Michael said, “There’s one thing that trumps all of that, Aiden.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “You have to make Denise feel safe, man.”
I finally looked over at him. “Safe?”
If You Could Only Imagine (Buchanan Brothers Series Book 2) Page 6
