Strictly Confidential

by Lynda Aicher

  He turned around, starting up the stairs before he paused. “I assume you can find your way out. You appear to know your way around.”

  Matt stared at his retreating back, too floored to do more. Shame was now a close intimate friend that burned in his throat and ate at his honor. It’d been a long time since he’d been so properly schooled. It didn’t help the emotions tearing apart his heart, but he appreciated the message, even if it hadn’t been necessary.

  He’d just fucked up the best relationship he’d ever had. He’d hurt Kennedy and undercut her in front of her father. But worst of all, he’d lost her trust.

  And he didn’t know if he had any right to it again. How could he, when he no longer trusted himself?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kennedy stared out her office window, numb after cycling through rounds of anger, shame, disappointment and embarrassment. She’d already berated herself for her reaction in the meeting, yet the self-flagellation continued.

  How had that happened? Why had she responded? Why?

  She squeezed her eyes closed, head bowing as she swallowed back the doubts threatening to pour out. She’d never flinched like that before, especially in a meeting with her father. Never.

  And she’d never had that softened rush of warmth flood her in the middle of a tense negotiation. That instant desire to give herself to Matt had burst forward before she’d had a chance to check it. Again, how?

  That single question refused to go away even though she had no answer for it. Not one. Not for why her nipples had pebbled or her chest had tightened. Or how her thoughts had fled to the last time they’d been in that room together. When he’d mastered her without taking away her power.

  The dichotomy of the situation pulled a sarcastic scoff from her. He’d done the exact opposite today with one little move.

  She rubbed her temples, yet the throbbing behind them remained. She had a stack of work to do, which included getting the revised contract to legal. The task was hers even though her father had taken ownership of it in the meeting.

  Resentment built in a steady stream she had no will to contain. Was it worth it? The daily struggle and fight to meet a standard she had zero chance of ever reaching? Not her father’s, at least.

  A weight pulled on her shoulders, and her eyes stung with the tears she refused to let fall. The urge to curl up in a ball and cry was overruled by the same determination that’d gotten her to this point.

  She couldn’t remain shut in her office forever. No. Hiding never fixed anything, especially with her father. He respected a solid confrontation more than meek acceptance. She’d learned that the first time she’d challenged his bedtime rule when he’d never been home to enforce it. She’d been six. He’d relented, and she’d discovered his path to acceptance.

  She could deal with her father. Matt, however… The sense of betrayal struck too deeply to reject. At least not yet. She wasn’t ready to face him. How could she when she couldn’t face herself?

  She’d thought her little desire had been limited to the bedroom. It was just an escape, and she’d trusted Matt to keep it there.

  But she’d apparently forgotten to inform herself of that.

  Disgust swelled until she wanted to choke on every promise, every lie, every excuse she’d made for giving her power to another for even a moment.

  She thrust up, rolled her shoulders back, stretching the kinks that’d locked into the muscles. Beating herself up for what was already done wouldn’t accomplish anything. It was up to her to take her power back. Wallowing only gave away more.

  She checked her dad’s calendar and headed to his office when she saw it was open. His assistant barely raised her head before Kennedy swept past, a brief smile given in exchange for her abruptness. Her quick rap on his door fired off her warning before she entered, closing the door behind her.

  Her dad sat back, frown already in place. “What’s going on?”

  “We need to talk,” she told him. “About what happened in the meeting.” They’d only had one this morning, so there was no need to clarify.

  He set his pen aside before he crossed his arms over his chest. His suit coat was slung over the back of his chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up in his preferred mode of work. “What about it?”

  Two visitor chairs sat empty before his desk, but she didn’t even think about sitting. Fire burned in her chest to counter the roll of her stomach. She met his gaze straight on, resolve clear.

  “I didn’t appreciate you cutting me down in the meeting like that.” She held her ground when he didn’t respond, not even a raised brow or scowl. “It undermined my power and set a bad precedence for future negotiations with McPherson.”

  Here came the scowl. Hard, drawn and not at all welcoming. “How do you figure?”

  “That was my deal.” She let her anger fly, uncaring of the potential fallout. “Yes, Thad is the salesman on record, but I was there for every step of the negotiations. I brought in the business. I brought in McPherson. I had the vision and executed it. And you ripped that all away with your condescending reprimand.” Her nerves trembled in small quakes she smothered behind the knowledge that she was right. She might be his daughter, but she was also the VP of Operations. “Would you have done that to anyone else?”

  Her father could be a cagey old bastard who growled more than smiled, but he’d never been tagged as intentionally cruel. Most respected him, and just as many liked him. Her mother said she loved him, but Kennedy had spent her entire life trying to please him. Maybe that was her problem.

  Ray Keller didn’t want to be pleased.

  He lowered his arms, his expression flattening out. Something softened on him. Something she couldn’t quite define. Something that took her back to the years before she’d started working in the company. To when she was just his little girl.

  “Ken…” He clasped his hands on his desk, his shoulders falling. “You showed a weakness right there for all of us to see. That’s not you.”

  She inhaled through her acceptance. He was right. That wasn’t her. Not usually. “You didn’t need to scold me like a child.” Especially in front of Matt. What was he thinking of her now?

  She scratched that thought as soon as it appeared. Worrying about Matt’s thoughts—especially about her—had no place in her world right now.

  Her father stared at her for a long moment. Tension strung between them on a tenuous balance that matched their status. Were they father and daughter, boss and employee or some mix of the two?

  “You’re right.” His agreement shocked her more than a terse denial would have. “I’m sorry.”

  He was sorry—and he’d actually said it. She’d heard it with her own ears, yet she still didn’t trust it. “You are?”

  His puff of sarcastic laughter reminded her too much of herself. “Yes. I am.” He came around his desk, no hint of authority displayed. For once, he was just her dad. “I just…” He glanced away. His expression was sterner when he looked back. “I’m aware that you have a relationship with Matt, even though you haven’t seen it as important enough to inform me or your mother.”

  Guilt took a strange hold at her father’s accusation, which was again true. She hadn’t told either of them about Matt, but there was very little she did share about her life with them. Why should she when neither one of them seemed to care that deeply?

  “What does that have to do with today?” She wasn’t going to deny or confirm her father’s statement.

  “You’re my daughter.”

  She waited for him to expand but he didn’t. “Yes. I am.”

  He propped his hands on his hips, leaning in. “A connection between our companies would be advantageous for both of us. He’s not going to respect a woman who hesitates when he looks at her.”

  Disappointment swept in when she’d thought she was beyond that. His reprimand had been over a hesitation. That was all he’d seen. Her years of diligence, commitment and determination had been dismissed by a blink. If he�
��d known how deeply she’d responded to Matt’s look, how she’d instinctively yielded, what then?

  She focused on the man who didn’t know her or really see her at all. Was she just a tool for him to use? Had she always been?

  Would it ever change?

  Or was this just another version of her father’s gruff way of caring?

  Her throat burned with the hurt threatening to spill out. She wouldn’t let it, though. Not in front of him.

  She hunted for a response, coming up blank. In the end, she gave him the only thing she had left. “Thank you for your apology.” He was still her father, no matter how much he’d just hurt her.

  She turned to leave, but swung back around when he started to speak, cutting him off. “I’ll be on vacation, effective now. I have months stored up, and I have a sudden desire to drink margaritas on the beach. I’ll let mother know that I won’t be around for Christmas.”

  She left after that, her back straight, her dignity wrapped up tight. There was so much she wanted to say. So much she wanted to yell and demand. She didn’t, though. She wouldn’t lower herself to that level.

  “Cancel all of my meetings for the next two weeks,” she told her assistant as she passed. “I’ll be on vacation.” She didn’t bother to expand. Nor did she respond to the startled round of questions when she left her office five minutes later, laptop packed up, car keys in hand. “Enjoy your holiday.”

  She avoided all eye contact as she left the building, not that anyone tried to stop her. The few people she encountered all stepped aside to let her pass. Was she being unprofessional? Maybe, but she couldn’t get herself to care. Not when she’d followed the rules, maintained every protocol, smiled, coddled, bit her tongue and played the damn game just to be shut down because she’d blinked. Literally.

  One damn blink.

  She tossed her briefcase in the passenger seat, heedless of her laptop tucked inside. If it broke, then she wouldn’t be compelled to respond to the emails that were going to stack up. Why did she still care about them? Why was she worrying about the work that’d be dumped on others?

  Because she cared too much. Because she was responsible and professional and…still a woman.

  A proud, strong woman who was…tired.

  The weight of that pressed on her, reinforcing every slight, comment, dismissal and assumption that’d been directed at her. No matter how strong she tried to be, she would never overcome her one fatal flaw of being born a girl.

  She drove out of the parking lot only to stop at the curb when she was out of sight of the building. The interior of her car echoed in the silence. It insulated while weakening her at once. Just breathe. That’s all she needed to do. Just breathe.

  This wasn’t her. She didn’t blink back tears or struggle with who she was. She knew exactly who she was. Or at least she had—until Matt had showed her something different. Something softer. Something…just as strong but infinitely more vulnerable.

  Her gaze wandered in the general direction of his office. It was south of there, not more than five minutes away. She could go talk to him or even call him. And say what? “Fuck you” probably wouldn’t go over very well when the situation was mostly on her.

  She shouldn’t have responded. She never would’ve with any other man. Right? She never had before. Yet that one incident had her doubting everything about herself.

  She didn’t flinch—but she had. For Matt.

  What did that mean? She had no clue, but she knew what it couldn’t mean—what she wouldn’t let it mean.

  She had the app open and a scene arranged a minute later. The Boardroom was her domain. No one judged her there. No one looked down on her. No one tried to alter her or diminish her wants. No one made her feel badly about who she was.

  Had Matt really done that? No. But here she sat feeling all of those things. She had her father to thank—for most of it anyway. The rest was her own doing, and she was fixing it the only way she knew how.

  She sent a quick message to Trevor before she posted her scene. She was being impetuous, yet the demand clawing inside her wouldn’t let her be cautious. She needed her power back, now.

  Her fingers did a jittery tap on her thigh as she waited for Trevor to respond. What if he was busy tonight? She’d do it anyway.

  Forget this. Why was she waiting?

  She left the location open and hit Post. Someone would likely offer up a boardroom. That was all she needed. The thought of getting off on her father’s boardroom table wasn’t so appealing right now, even though it’d be the perfect clichéd FU.

  She drove home on autopilot, thoughts swirling in the muck of emotions that left her drained and even more focused by the time she reached home. She studiously dismissed every hint of guilt that tried to emerge. Matt didn’t control her. He had no ownership over her or her actions.

  Her phone buzzed with an app message when she stepped into her house. She set her briefcase and purse on the counter before she opened the message. Is there something I should know about? Trevor was still playing the protector role, which she wanted but didn’t.

  No. He’d never required details or an explanation before.

  She slumped into the couch as she waited for his response. You can use my boardroom. I’m not free until ten.

  Thank you. She switched over to add the location only to see that Trevor had updated it along with the time change. Her breath hitched when she saw the list of attendees already signed up.

  She waited for that rush to fill her. The one that came with owning her sexuality, with feeling the lust directed at her and the want she denied them. She waited, but it didn’t come. Not yet, at least.

  That was all the proof she needed to confirm that this scene was long overdue.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The view hadn’t changed in the last hour that Matt had stared at it. The warehouse across the parking lot was still white beneath the building lights. Not even a car or person had passed by to change the picture.

  Yet he still sat there, staring at nothing when the rest of the office had emptied hours ago. Kennedy’s reaction circled his thoughts on an almost continuous loop now that he’d given up all pretenses of working. The shock and hurt. The disappointment. And lastly the resentment.

  The day had slipped by, but he had little memory of what he’d accomplished. He’d responded automatically to everything thrown at him without absorbing any of it. The company was starting to thrive after years of getting by. He should be proud of that. The Keller deal would be another giant leap into the expansion he’d been working on since taking over.

  And he’d walk away if it meant losing Kennedy.

  He’d come to that conclusion not long after he’d returned to the office. There would be other business opportunities. There was only one of her.

  He dragged his gaze away from the window to call up the Boardroom message he’d received from Trevor around noon.

  Thought you’d be interested in this. The link opened to the scene set up by Kennedy less than two hours after he’d left her office. Six—make that seven—men were signed up to attend.

  His hand tightened around his phone, a shot of pain nailing his chest. Yet he wasn’t mad at her. This was his doing. He took full responsibility for it. How he’d hurt her. How he’d taken her power without her consent. How she was taking it back the only way she knew how.

  This was all on him.

  “Fuck.” His anger shot through the room, solving nothing. He didn’t know if he deserved to have her back, but he owed her an apology—at the very least.

  He typed out a response to Trevor. I’ll be there. He wasn’t adding his name to the scene. Nope. He wouldn’t take the moment from Kennedy. She obviously need it, and he wouldn’t undercut that. But he’d ensure she was okay. That she was safe.

  That she got what she needed—whatever it was.

  He could do no less. He loved her too damn much to see her hurting. Fuck. This was why he’d stayed away from relationships, why
he’d shut down his dominant desires. And yet, he didn’t regret a single moment with Kennedy—until the meeting today.

  His phone buzzed. Trevor. You cause any trouble and your ass is gone.

  A weak smile formed. He respected the guy’s commitment to everyone in the group, but he was grateful for the protection he extended to Kennedy. Her family was closing around her even if she didn’t share her blood with any of them. Did she know that? Was she aware of how many cared for her?

  His heart gave another heavy lurch when he typed back his response. I’m not going to cause trouble. It killed him that Trevor thought, even for a moment, that he’d do anything to hurt her.

  See that you don’t.

  He wouldn’t. He’d leave before that happened.

  He’d already texted Ben to let him know he’d be home late—again. He owed his son an apology too. He’d been around more when Dawn was his age. Always home by seven—or his mother had been there. He just seemed to expect more of Ben and from him, which was unfair.

  And listing out his failures wouldn’t solve a thing.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, thrusting up as he snatched his tie off his desk and quickly redid the knot around his neck. He replaced his business uniform with more precision than when he’d torn it off. The relief after he’d slung his suit coat into the visitor’s chair had also provided clarity.

  The fucking suit had been his trigger from the very start.

  The formality and decorum expected within it bled too closely to the expectations of his officer’s uniform. That same sense of command, of order and control, settled into him as he slipped the suit coat on. It triggered something in his head he couldn’t pinpoint, but it wove through his awareness on a trail of authority so comfortable and familiar he’d failed to heed the warning signs.

  But he couldn’t blame his overstep on the damn suit. Just like he couldn’t blame his military uniform for what had happened with his ex-wife.

  His actions were his to own.

  The office was empty, the truck bays locked up and silent. His ride into the city was executed with little thought. He made the turns to Trevor’s building with equal efficiency, having made the trip multiple times but for much different reasons.