She’d done him a favor. She saved them a big uncomfortable scene. His anger was misplaced, and by the time he walked out of the suite dressed and ready to leave, he was himself again. Everything was calm and under control.
As long as he didn’t close his eyes, because the minute he did the night played out again for him in full Technicolor and the hollowness threatened to consume him.
Chapter Four
“You’re sure about this?” Pam repeated the question for the millionth time before they stepped into the executive elevator.
“Yes.” Nic shoved his hands in his pockets, hiding his clenched fists.
“It’s a lot of money.” Pam’s attention was fixed on the screen of her tablet as she swiped through the pages of the agreement Nic was on his way to sign. “You’ll never see it again.”
Nic nodded. He didn’t care about the money. Money had never been an issue for Nic. He had way more than his fair share and no matter how much of it he gave away or loaned, he seemed to make more. It wasn’t the money that had his stomach churning in protest. It was the hour he was going to have to sit across a conference table from the pompous bastard who took the money as his due.
Nic conceded Andreas Maretti might not be wrong but he was tired of being constantly reminded of the sacrifices Andreas had made. Nic hoped the obscene amount of money he was handing the old man would shut him up once and for all.
“Have you decided who you’re going to appoint to the board?” Pam glanced at him when he didn’t answer. “They are going to ask.”
“I have sixty days to decide. I’ll let you know.”
“Make sure it’s not me,” she warned him. “I will quit if you make me work with your father. It’s bad enough being in the same building with him but I’m not cleaning up his mess.”
Nic nodded. He hadn’t planned to saddle Pam with trying to put Maretti Oil back together. Andreas had done a spectacular job of running it into the ground. Whoever Nic put in charge of damage control would have a full time job. He couldn’t spare Pam. “I was thinking about Madlyn Robicheaux,” he admitted.
“She won’t leave New Orleans,” Pam dismissed. “You should appoint Mac Sellers. Can you imagine the look on Andreas’ face?”
Nic choked back an unexpected laugh as the elevator doors slid open on the top floor. He braced himself then stepped into the ostentatious outer office of Maretti Oil. When Andreas had taken over his second wife’s family company, he’d had the unmitigated gall to rename the company and redecorated the office in what could only be called vintage Euro-trash.
Nic and Pam were shown to a conference room. The lawyers from both sides were already seated at the table. Andreas Maretti was not. Nic had purposely been ten minutes late for the meeting and had expected to find the old man signing his part of the paperwork. He should have known better.
He slid Pam’s chair out for her and waited for her to be seated before he took the seat next to her. He waved away the hovering secretary who wanted to bring him coffee or something more personal if he wanted, if the look she gave him was anything to go by.
Five minutes later, Pam covered his hand and Nic realized he’d started tapping his fingers on the conference table.
“We’ll take that coffee.” She broke the tense silenced in the conference room as the attorneys seated across the table pretended to be paying attention to what they were saying to each other. When everyone knew they were just waiting for Nic to lose his cool.
Except Nic never lost his cool. This power play of Andreas’ was almost pathetic. A smart man wouldn’t have left Nic cooling his heels in a conference room full of junior lawyers and assistants. A smarter man would’ve already signed the loan paperwork before he arrived. A smarter man would have known Nic would rather walk back out the door than hand over the amount of money he was about to give to his worst enemy.
Andreas’ PA swept into the room, breaking the tense silence. “Mr. Maretti, I’m very sorry. He’s been delayed by an international conference call.”
Nic did not acknowledge the younger man, but Pam did. “Steven, please make sure your boss understands he has two minutes before Mr. Maretti leaves this horror of an office, then walks out of this building while Maretti Oil goes under.”
Steven nodded as he hurried out of the room.
“Amateur,” Pam hissed under her breath. “Why are we here again?”
“Zachary,” Nic said and Pam nodded.
“You could take this money and start a new company for Zachary. This is crazy, Nic.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right.” Pam pushed back in her seat and prepared to stand.
Nic waved her back down. Zachary was only one of the reasons for the loan. Guilt was the other one. Gnawing, soul-sucking guilt Nic hadn’t been unable to shake for over twelve years.
The smoked glass doors pushed open and the pompous peacock strode in wearing a new custom suit and enough Botox on his face to paralyze an army. He was every bit the gracefully aging Italian aristocrat. He should have been standing on the deck of his yacht or gambling at a casino on the French Riviera. Andreas was pushing sixty-five but didn’t appear a day over fifty. Preservation didn’t come cheap. Nothing about him suggested he was drowning in debt and Nic was throwing him a life preserver.
Nic regretted not insisting on signing the paperwork separately. Arrogant as usual, Andreas had demanded they sign the paperwork at the same time. Nic hadn’t been surprised Andreas had the nerve to try and dictate terms.
He should’ve refused. Agreeing to meet in person had given Andreas the wrong impression. Nic hadn’t been the eager-to-please son for a long time. Andreas’ ego would be his downfall.
“Nicolas.” Andreas was all delighted charm and winning smiles with his arm extended as if they were a loving father and son.
Nic had no choice but to stand and shake hands. He reminded himself this man had no power over him. He swallowed down his bitterness as Andreas clasped his hand in a too-tight grip. The same grip that had dragged a six year old Nic away from his mother’s graveside and away from the only home he’d ever known.
“Son, it’s good to see you.”
Nic’s molars ground together as he forced out a semi-polite response.
“How long are you in town? You should come out to the ranch. Claudia would love to see you.”
“Nic has a flight leaving in two hours,” Pam answered for him. “We’re on a tight schedule. Let’s get started.”
Unruffled, Andreas took the seat at the head of the table and made a big show of putting on his reading glasses and looking the paperwork over. He asked some questions he already knew the answers to and expressed concerns over details teams of lawyers had worked out weeks ago.
Nic let Pam answer the questions while he took a deep, calming breath and tried to picture the waters off his place in the Keys. He did have a flight but it was to Miami, then he was driving to his house in Key Largo and spending some time shaking off the anger that always followed his meetings with Andreas. Except this time, the marine blue waters off his home weren’t what came to mind. No, it was a pair of blue eyes widening in shock as he took possession of her for the first time.
Nic’s whole body tightened as the night with Lizzie replayed itself. She had been sweeter than she looked. His fingers clenched into fists but there was nothing he could do now but let the memory wash over him. He could still taste her, hear the tiny cries of surprise, and still feel the hard bud of her nipple on his tongue. The whimpers that had given way to delicate growls of pleasure had pushed his control to the limit as the heat of her body took him deep, shredding away all his expectations of sex and showing him how jaded he had become.
He’d forgotten the excitement of it until her eyes flew wide and she wound her arms around him and pressed so hard against him she penetrated the layers of distance he kept between him and the rest of the world. It was as if she’d pulled him out of a cave despite his protests then flung him into t
he sun.
It had rocked Nic to his foundation. He hadn’t known sex could be like that. She’d been inexperienced but it hadn’t mattered. Her response, the total surrender in her eyes—all of it had been more than Nic had ever dreamed possible. He’d found something precious with Lizzie. He’d fallen asleep with her in his arms planning breakfast and thinking the world might not be such a bad place after all.
Then she’d taken it away. Done what everyone else he let himself care for did. She’d left.
She’d walked out of his hotel room and disappeared, leaving him empty except for the raging hunger he’d been unable to slake with anyone else. Last night he’d tried but had ended up leaving a beautiful girl in tears when he told her it wasn’t working.
Pam’s hand on his forearm under the table kept Nic from clawing the table in half. She handed him a pen. He didn’t read the paperwork. He signed it, handing over almost two billion dollars he’d never see again. A family debt paid.
Family? The word was laughable. He shared the Maretti name but they were not his family. Not that he needed one, Nic reminded himself. He didn’t need anyone, other than the woman sitting next to him in this farce of a meeting, and the large man standing by the door, who never left Nic’s side. Both Pam and Tag, the head of his security team, had enormous salaries in return for keeping the world away from him.
Nic didn’t need anyone else.
“Miss Sellers, are we boring you?”
Lizzie's chin slipped off her palm as she straightened in the uncomfortable desk. Cringing, she ignored the snickers and took a deep breath. “No, sorry.”
“Maybe you aren’t interested in Riemann surfaces.”
Heat crawled up the back of her neck and she wiped her hand across her face, hoping to stop the angry color burning under her skin. Hatton wasn’t the most fascinating lecturer in the department. Normally she fooled him into thinking she was paying attention, but today she was off her game.
She wasn’t back in the real world yet. Everything was slightly out of sync. Sleeping with Nic had been a huge mistake. She was haunted by the glide of his hands over her, the way his legs felt tangled with hers. She could still feel him and taste him. She couldn’t close her eyes without the night replaying itself for her. Had he been disappointed? Had he not called because their night hadn’t been anything special?
Lizzie swallowed hard and tried not to fall apart.
He hadn’t called because she’d walked out on him.
“Sellers!”
Her attention snapped back to him again. He was staring up at her from his podium, eyebrows raised. Had he asked her a question? Lizzie wasn’t sure. She searched the last few minutes but there was nothing. And there was never nothing. Tears burned her throat and panic started to set in. She’d never felt so out of control before.
“We’re waiting—” Hatton leaned against the podium.
This confrontation had been brewing all semester. It had started when she’d asked him a question he couldn’t answer the first week of classes. She hadn’t meant to embarrass him, but she’d ended up making a serious enemy. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let him get to her and she managed to ignore him. Now, on the last day of class, she bit down hard on the inside of her lip and tried not to say something she couldn’t come back from.
“Or are you all out of your famous questions?”
She was on her feet before she realized what she was doing.
“You take one step and you’re out. The rest of you get out, class dismissed.”
The room quickly emptied out, but he took his time packing his messenger bag with his laptop and papers. “I told Dr. Pak it was a mistake to let you into our program,” he said without looking up. “Would you like to know why?”
“I can’t wait,” she muttered under her breath.
He glanced up at her, gray eyes frosted over. Hatton wasn’t completely horrible-looking but the post-grunge look was dead as far as Lizzie was concerned.
“You’re too smart, Miss Sellers.” He started up the steps. “It’s too easy for you. You spend most of your time daydreaming and trying not to nap when there is a waiting list of students who would work their asses off to be in your place.”
She started to protest but he stopped right in front of her.
“There are men who spend their entire careers trying to work through equations you can do in your head but what do you do? You yawn. You doodle. You daydream. You make it clear to everyone around you that you think you’re slumming.”
Lizzie shook her head. “No.”
“And then you take off for a week—”
“I had a family thing.”
“Family thing?” He smirked and pushed his rectangle glasses up. “A wedding you mean? Tell me, did you catch the bouquet? Is that why you’re even more distracted than usual? At least before your week back to the swamp you made the attempt to look as though you were interested but since you’ve been back…well, you didn’t come back. Did you leave your brain at home dreaming of wedding dresses and flowers?”
She flinched because he wasn’t completely wrong. It wasn’t the wedding that had her distracted. It was Nic.
“Maybe I’m right and math isn’t your thing. You should consider fashion merchandising or journalism? Maybe you’d—”
“I get it,” she snapped.
Lizzie’s arms tightened around the notebook and computer she clamped to her chest. She blinked back tears refusing to cry.
“You’re a cruel joke on the entire mathematics community. How is anyone supposed to take you seriously when you look like you just walked off the Good Ship Lollipop?” He waved his hand at her hair.
Lizzie’s jaw dropped at his verbal attack. She’d never had anyone be so openly vicious to her face.
“Are you going to cry?” He raised his eyebrows at her.
She shook her head. Her skin burned with humiliation and something else she hadn’t expected. A cruel joke on the entire mathematics community?
Who did he think he was?
“Is that what you want? To make me cry?”
He laughed, turning away from her. “Oh, no. I want to make you leave. In fact, I have an opening for TA next year. I think I’ll put in a request for you.”
“What?” She gasped, anger getting the best of her. “There’s no way. Dr. Pak—”
“Dr. Pak, what? Promised you a position on his team? That’s too bad.”
Anger sputtered out of her without warning. “Why would you even want me on your team when you think I’m such a joke?”
His smile was cruel. “Because you’ll need my approval to make it through your second year, and if you continue like this you’re never going to get it.
Lizzie opened her mouth to tell him exactly where he could go, but he shook his head.
“Grow up, Miss Sellers. And if you show up this fall, be ready to work your ass off.”
She nodded, unable to even come up with a defense. “Okay.”
His head snapped back when she didn’t argue.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
His body language completely changed and she had the distinct impression she’d surprised him. “You have a gift, Sellers,” he spoke in a much more reasonable tone. “Whatever has you so distracted has got to go. You have more important things to do.”
She nodded again, because he might have the facts wrong, but he was absolutely right.
Sunshine blinded her when she stepped outside, but she kept walking until she found an empty bench. She sucked in a breath, blinking back burning tears. She covered her face with her hands. This was not who she was.
This was not how things were supposed to be. She’d dreamed about Princeton for longer than she dreamed about Nic. Now Nic hadn’t just ruined her for other men, he’d put her future in jeopardy. She couldn’t let that happen. She had plans, goals, and problems to solve. She didn’t have time to be distracted by schoolgirl crushes.
She sucked in another br
eath and swallowed everything down. Hatton was right. She’d been coasting. It wasn’t because she was bored. New Jersey was a world away from New Orleans. At home people were at least polite to your face. Here, they were cold and rude. The other students in the department had dismissed her on the first day as one step down from Elle Woods.
She’d spent the first twenty years of her life not talking about math and making people forget she was a mathematical genius so they didn’t treat her like a freak. Now she was surrounded by people who loved the same things she did and she had no idea how to talk to them. She was a freak. She didn’t fit anywhere.
The first day of class she’d discovered she didn’t know how to approach people. She’d never realized it before because she was always surrounded by people she knew. In high school and college, she’d always had Jen and Jen never met a stranger. Lizzie hadn’t realized she’d been floating in Jen’s wake all these years. When faced with so many strangers and Jen nowhere in sight to break the ice, Lizzie hadn’t known where to start. It was easier to keep to herself. Easier to go to class then back to her apartment.
Now, the last place she wanted to go was that empty apartment. She wanted to be as far away from this place as possible. But she also wasn’t ready to go home either. She wanted hot sunshine and warm sand. The beach. She wanted to go to the beach. Maybe she could get in the ocean and scrub her skin clean. She would call Rogan. He wouldn’t ask a lot of questions and he’d let her have a condo for a few days. She could watch a bunch of chick flicks, eat way too much ice cream and get this nagging pain out of her system once and for all. She would regroup.
She dug her cell phone out of her shoulder bag and flipped it on. She ignored the twinge in her stomach. There were no missed calls or text messages. Had she honestly expected to hear from Nic after she’d crept out of the hotel suite while he was asleep?
Had she really thought having sex with Nic Maretti would help get him out of her system? Talk about epic fail.
The memories washed over her again. His hand moving over her, the crisp hairs on his legs and chest tickling her skin. She could feel him moving inside of her, turning her into someone she didn’t recognize anymore.
Solving for Nic (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 2) Page 5
