Alex guffawed. “I definitely would not.”
Brett sighed and sat back in his chair. “Okay, we had a bit of a moment at the party the other night. But business has nothing to do with that. Sure, the idea of a takeover occurred to me somewhat spontaneously. The plan started forming in my head when she left. But I know what I’m doing here. It’s business as usual, regardless of anything that Rebecca and I had.”
Alex looked unconvinced. “Jesus Christ, man. We’ve initiated a multimillion-dollar takeover to get back at a girl you used to hook up with in college? Who just happens to be sitting at the CEO’s desk?”
“That’s not it.”
“Then tell me, what is it? Do you want to start seeing her again? Because if you do, this is one hell of a way to get her attention.”
Brett’s blood burned in his veins. White-hot. “No. I’m definitely not looking to start seeing her.” Although he did extend an invitation for her to visit him at the club. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he was looking forward to seeing her there.
Brett was a man who didn’t deal in feelings. And as anger, ambition and desire all raged within him, he had no idea which would be victorious. He just knew that her appearance threw something inside him completely off-kilter and he needed her gone again. If there was nothing keeping her in Vegas, she would surely leave. Getting rid of Daniels International would send her packing back to New York or anywhere else. He didn’t really care.
Using every ounce of strength, he reined in his emotions, holding them back with a firm hand. “The timing looks suspicious, I know. But I’ve had my eye on this type of thing for a while,” Brett lied easily to his friend, something he’d never done before. “This move is what’s right for us, and you know it. It’s part of our overall vision for The Brotherhood.”
Alex stood and faced him, challenging. His friend was a strong, imposing man, and he had a slight height advantage over Brett. “I just want all the information, before you put our business and our names—and The Brotherhood—on the line.”
“You have nothing to worry about. I know what I’m doing.”
CHAPTER FOUR
REBECCA SLAMMED DOWN the phone. “That shady motherfucker,” Rebecca said to her empty office, trying her damnedest to bite back a frustrated scream. She gripped the edges of her desk. If she possessed the physical strength, she would have flipped the heavy oak behemoth over on its side.
Her frustration built and she took deep breaths to stop the shaking in her hands. But it wasn’t successful. She thought about her father and the business he’d built and how she couldn’t let it fall under the command of Brett Collins. She thought about all of the power and influence Brett had in the city. With what Brett was offering the shareholders for their shares, she wondered how many would stick with DI. It was a near-hopeless situation. But it was up to her to save the company. She was on her own on this one.
“I could see him again,” she told herself. “Try to appeal to him.” And if she couldn’t talk him out of it altogether, she would let him know that she wasn’t going to take it lying down. If that didn’t work, at least, she could hope to get a little dirt on him and his friends. Rebecca wasn’t into blackmail, but she wasn’t afraid to play dirty if she needed to.
* * *
Hours later, Rebecca found herself on the sidewalk in front of Di Terrestres. The exterior of the club was unassuming enough, just like many other buildings located in Las Vegas’s downtown financial district. It was located at the bottom floor of their office high-rise, which housed Collins/Fischer along with many other businesses. The sleek gold letters emblazoned on the sign bearing its name weren’t out of place in this neighborhood, but the burly bouncers guarding the door in black suits may have been a giveaway. There was a small line of people looking for admittance, and one by one they were afforded entrance. She’d heard about the club, but a Google search had provided only vague information at best. She’d surmised it was exclusive, intimate even, and she figured that if there was anywhere she would find Brett after hours, it’d be here.
Rebecca frowned, glancing up at the tall building once more. As she approached the lineup, she eyed the doormen, who consulted their lists on the tablets in their hands. Brett had told her to come by, but she was certain she wasn’t on whatever list they had in front of them now.
The key was to act like she was.
She straightened her shoulders and strolled to the door, bypassing the small lineup, ignoring the annoyed stares of the people she passed. She smiled at a doorman, but he barely looked at her as she approached. “Name?” His voice boomed. He was huge and had a no-nonsense demeanor.
“I’m here to see Brett,” she said, not breaking eye contact. “He invited me.”
“Name?”
She sighed, feigning impatience. “Rebecca Daniels. If you could just tell him I’m here—”
“You can go right on in, Ms. Daniels,” he told her, looking up at her, now smiling.
She tried to stop the surprise from showing. “Really?”
“Rebecca Daniels.” He gestured to the screen. “You’re on the list. Go right on inside. You’ll find Mr. Collins in there.”
She schooled her features, not letting her disbelief that it had worked show. “Thank you,” she told him, sauntering past, confident as any woman would be to meet a man at his exclusive club.
From the foyer, Rebecca passed through two huge lush black curtains and found herself in the luxurious environs of Di Terrestres. Her eyes widened, impressed. It was dark but not too dark. The walls were covered with more black curtains, and modern chandeliers and small wall sconces cast dim swaths of golden light over the shadows that crept from the corners. Despite the large size of the room, the design and lighting made it feel small, intimate, sexy even, and she clearly wasn’t the only one who thought so. She looked around at the couples and groups of people huddled together at the high-backed booths and tables lining the room. Some of them were talking, laughing, and others were locked in intimate embraces, in various stages of undress. She looked around and noticed how the guests touched each other, spoke softly, as if they were lovers. But the faces were familiar, and she recognized many of them as some of Las Vegas’s most influential businesspeople, politicians and celebrities. It left her wondering exactly what kind of place Di Terrestres was.
At the center of the room was a huge raised platform, and she imagined it must have been a dance floor, but no one was dancing; the patrons were so wrapped up in each other, it went unused. Her attention returned to the people around her, engaging in extremely private acts in a very public space, and she felt envious, not having been able to give in to her own desires in a long time.
As a younger woman, she’d exhilarated in exhibitionism, and it was Brett who had brought that out in her. Their semipublic physical encounters were still with her. Back then, they’d done it everywhere—the college library, empty classrooms, store changing rooms—and the heat of the memories made her skin flush as it came over her from time to time. She shook her head in an attempt to disperse the images.
Brett was nowhere to be seen in the crowd, but she did see a long bar along one wall and made her way toward it. If she was going to talk to Brett again, she needed a drink...or several. So she took her place on an empty stool between two men, who simultaneously gave her an obvious once-over before they both turned to her with interest as the bartender quickly made her way over to Rebecca. “What can I get for you?”
“Gin and tonic please,” Rebecca told her, trying to ignore the attention of the men who flanked her. “A double.”
The gorgeous bartender nodded. “You got it.” She quickly made Rebecca’s drink and placed it in front of her on a cocktail napkin.
Rebecca withdrew her credit card from her purse to pay for her drink, but the bartender shook her head at her and walked away to serve the next customer. Rebecca’
s eyebrows drew together as she watched the bartender take payment from another customer, and she wondered why she hadn’t been charged.
Her question was answered almost immediately when Rebecca caught a whiff of cologne—the spicy, leathery scent she remembered so vividly from the night of the mayor’s party. Brett’s cologne. A dim shadow fell over her, blocking the already-low light, and soon she felt a wall of warm muscle come up behind her and press against her back. She stiffened, and the other men turned their attention back to the bartender, apparently not willing to interfere in Brett’s affairs. Brett rested his palms on the bar on each side of her, trapping her between it and his chest. She didn’t turn around, and she felt him lean closer, bringing his lips to her ear. “I knew I’d see you again soon, Becca.”
“And I knew that I’d have to remind you again that I go by Rebecca now.” She sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. He was as gorgeous as always. In an attempt to steady her shaking hands, she cupped her glass and took a deep swallow of her drink. The gin was definitely top-shelf, and it hit the bottom of her empty stomach. Maybe she should have skipped the drink—no, going in sober wasn’t an option—or maybe she should have stopped to eat dinner before going to the club. And maybe, she thought as she looked up at Brett, either way she was making a huge mistake.
She needed to keep a clear head, especially when the memories of the party had clouded every rational thought she’d had since that night. His proximity only made it worse. Her throat dried and she took a deep gulp of her gin and tonic and turned back to look at him once more.
He was wearing gray slacks and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at his throat with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the tanned skin of his strong, corded forearms. His thick dark blond hair was tousled, and a five-o’clock shadow dotted his firm jawline. It looked like he’d left work and come to the club. But it didn’t matter what he wore, he looked just as good as he had wearing his more formal blue suit a couple of nights ago at Mayor Thompson’s house.
She steeled herself, attempting to hold back her emotions, her desire, reminding herself of the job at hand. But tell that to the breath she held in her lungs and the stirring in her core. She swiveled on her stool, rotating around to face him. He was standing over her, so closely that her knees brushed high on his thighs. While the shock of the contact racked throughout her, he didn’t even appear to flinch. But that was Brett—always so cool and in complete control.
“Can I get you a club soda, Brett?” The bartender had reappeared.
“No, I’m good. Thanks, Tanya,” he said without looking away from Rebecca.
“You put my name on the list.” Rebecca looked up at him. His face was only a few inches from hers. It wasn’t a question. He’d obviously done it.
His smile was cocky, his dimples deep. “I did,” he said with a nod. “I knew you’d come here eventually. That you couldn’t stay away. Especially after Saturday night, I knew you’d be back for more.”
“You’re unbelievable. You still thought that I’d come here for sex, even after this morning when you initiated a hostile takeover of my company...?”
“You know, hostile takeover has such a negative connotation. I’d like to refer to it as a friendly buyout.”
“Tomato, tomahto,” she countered.
Brett laughed. The deep notes rolled over her, and he quickly turned serious as his eyes bored into hers. With each breath, she pulled more and more of his masculine, leathery scent into her lungs, until he surrounded her completely, inside and out, and the rest of the room, the lights, the music, the other patrons fell away, ceasing to exist in the bubble that Brett had created around them. She wasn’t sure if she needed him closer or to get away from him entirely as her head clouded pleasantly, but her nerve endings came alive. She tried to lean back, but the hard edge of the bar dug into her back, holding her in place.
She tried to keep her wits about her. But it was proving harder and harder by the minute. “What made you so cocksure that I’d want to see you again?” she replied, her choice of words intentional. “And what makes you think Saturday night has anything to do with me coming here tonight?”
His smirk was arrogant, and the corners of his lips quirked upward. He leaned closer so his murmured voice could be heard over the din of the club. “So you’re here to yell at me again? I did like that phone call.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not here to yell. I just want to talk.”
“Oh, really? You aren’t mad anymore?”
“Make no mistake, I’m mad as hell. What you did was sneaky and underhanded. But I’m here to see if there’s anything I can do to persuade you to stop.” Rebecca hated the unconscious sensual lilt of her voice, the way her eyes slanted at him, and she tried to hold it back. Brett just brought it out in her, apparently. She could flirt with him, but she wouldn’t trade sex for a deal. She wanted to use her words, her business savvy, to convince him to halt his takeover.
“There might just be one way you could convince me,” he murmured, leaning in.
“You’ve got to be kidding me if you think this is going to be another replay of Saturday night.”
He shrugged and stepped back, finally giving her the room she desperately needed to breathe. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He looked around. “It’s kind of loud down here. Why don’t we go upstairs to my office? We can talk.”
“Just talk?” she asked carefully.
“If you want to talk, we can talk. If you want to do anything else, we can do that, too,” he finished. His eyes betrayed the meaning behind his words.
And Rebecca tried her hardest to ignore the raw sensuality that flowed from his lips, the pure sex that he exuded from every part of him. She’d tried to convince herself that she was there only to talk to him, but as she got ready at home that evening before heading to the club, she’d still selected her favorite bra and pantie set, and put it on underneath her sensible clothing, as if her body had some idea or hope as to where the evening would go, despite what her mind told her.
Unable to keep her focus on his steel blue eyes, she pulled hers away and looked around, over his shoulder. Trying to distract herself from the sinful promises in his gaze, she leaned back, putting some distance between them. She knew that if she went anywhere alone with him, she’d be finished and would do anything he wanted. She needed to buy herself a couple of minutes before they were alone. “This is quite the club you guys have here.”
“We like it.” He still didn’t look away from her.
But her gaze wavered past him, to the couples and groups in the booths. Even the air was erotically charged, thick and heavy. “Why don’t you show me around first? I’d love to get a tour from the owner.” Her rational brain thought that, but she knew in her heart that it wouldn’t. Going off with him alone would only lead to them naked. She knew it. But it was already too late for rational thought. She was officially a woman led by hormones and the dangerous man in front of her.
He smiled and extended his arm to her. “It’d be my pleasure.”
She took it, sliding her fingers over his bare forearm. The thick but silky hair that covered his tanned skin tickled her fingertips.
“So you’ve clearly done well for yourself in the past five years,” Rebecca commented.
He nodded. “And so have you, I hear.”
She had done well since graduating and leaving town. In just a handful of years working at a New York real estate firm, she’d worked her way up from a junior consultant position to an executive position. It had originally been important to her to get away from the family business and the Daniels name to make her own way. And she’d been successful. The reputation she’d made for herself had preceded her in all her East Coast business dealings. But now she was back in Las Vegas. “But let’s talk about you. Tell me about this club.”
She watched as Brett looked around, surveying his domain. “The Brothe
rhood opened it earlier this year—”
“Wait. The who?”
“The Brotherhood. Me and my friends. It’s just a name we gave ourselves when we started out—people I’ve met from different phases of life. We’ve all been pretty successful in our respective fields. So we collaborate, invest in each other. We all work together. The name is just a little tip of the hat to ourselves. That we aren’t just friends and partners, but family.”
She shook her head. “Who would have thought you and a group of successful men would run the city.”
“Well, not just men. You remember Alana Carter from college? She’s part of the group. She even made up the name. We all play very important roles in operations. Neither of us would be where we are now if not for each other.”
Rebecca nodded, thoughtful. She remembered the other woman from some college courses that they’d taken together. They’d become close, and even though Alana had been one of Brett’s closest friends, Rebecca had considered her a friend, as well. Her heart softened a bit to think they’d remained friends all these years. Rebecca had spent most of her adult life not needing anyone, and she couldn’t help but envy Brett a little in that respect. “And the name? Di Terrestres?” she asked, looking around at the richly appointed room, as she thought back to the Latin classes she’d taken as a young woman.
“It goes back to Roman mythology. The name comes from di inferi, a cabal of shadowy deities associated with the underworld. There are the gods above and below—” he moved his hand up and down, and then gestured to room as a whole “—but di terrestres are the gods of the earth.”
“Gods of the earth? How wonderfully modest of you,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
He ignored her snide remark, and without warning, he pulled her arm, whipping her around to face him. She gasped as his palms landed low on her back, just above the curve of her ass. His touch was hot and firm. “Why be modest when you can live like a god?”
“So what goes on here, exactly?” Rebecca hated the breathy nature of her voice, and the way Brett’s hands felt on her as they traveled lower, smoothing over her rear. He squeezed and pulled her closer, so that she could feel his hard cock against her stomach, and she gasped, the air rushing into her lungs as her heart pounded. She felt a kick of heat low percolate within her. She tried to breathe past the desire and focus on having a conversation with him. “It doesn’t look like a normal club, and I couldn’t find any information available to the public about the goings-on here.”
Boardroom Sins Page 4
