There’s a blonde woman in my bed, and I don’t remember what her name is. Even for me, the self-professed king of one-night stands, this is a new low.
I sit up, and the pounding in my head intensifies. Getting drunk was a dumb idea. Bringing the blonde back to my Manhattan penthouse? Even dumber. It’s Valentine’s Day. Bad, bad timing.
Groping for my phone, I tiptoe out of my bedroom and into the kitchen.
Today’s Miki’s birthday. Happy birthday, mouse, I type while I wait for the coffee to brew. She’s not online yet, neither do I expect her to be. Miki’s a night owl.
Three months ago, Finn and I decided to go on DefCon’s forums and get to know Miki in order to keep an eye on the talented hacker. Our plan worked only too well. The three of us are friends now. Really good friends. And if she finds out the truth…
She’s not going to find out.
“Hey there,” a sultry voice purrs, interrupting my dark thoughts. It’s my one-night stand. Her name suddenly comes to me. Bethany.
Bethany’s wearing my shirt and her hair’s artfully tousled. She’s going for the ‘I just woke up’ effect, but it’s spoiled by the fact that she’s wearing makeup.
“Good morning.” I smile at her cheerfully, even as I wonder how quickly I can get her out of my place. Paul Fryman, my divorce lawyer, is going to be here in thirty minutes. He called yesterday, insisting he needed to speak with me urgently, but he wouldn’t tell me why over the phone. “Coffee?”
“Thank you.” She pulls up a chair next to me, and sits down, leaning forward, her breasts spilling out. “I hope you don’t mind that I wore your shirt,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes. “I couldn’t find my clothes.”
How hard did she look? “They’re on the armchair,” I reply, getting up to pour her some coffee. “Milk, sugar?”
She shudders at the mention of the dreaded s-word. Sugar. “No thank you. Just black.”
I set the mug down in front of Bethany. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes,” I tell her, pasting a look of regret on my face. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to rush you a little.”
“Oh.” She bites her lower lip. “It’s Friday. I thought you could take the day off.”
“Sadly, no.”
She gives me a hopeful look. “Maybe we could hang out later tonight?”
I take a deep breath. Contrary to what my ex-wife Claudia would like the world to believe, I’m not a jerk, and I have no desire to hurt this woman’s feelings. At the same time, I made things perfectly clear last night that I wasn’t looking for a date or commitment.
All I wanted was one night. No strings attached. Unfortunately, things are never that easy. “I’m sorry,” I reply, as gently as I can, given the circumstances. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh.” Her mouth contorts into a snarl. “I was warned about you,” she snaps. “Oliver Prescott never goes on a second date, right? It’s all about the chase and the conquest.”
I don’t need Bethany to analyze me; my therapist Dr. Hutchins has already pinpointed my flaws. I won’t see someone more than once because, after Claudia, I will never again put myself in a position where I’m vulnerable. My broken marriage has left me deeply cynical and deeply mistrustful.
Bethany storms away to my bedroom. When she emerges in five minutes, she’s fully dressed. She pauses by my front door, waiting for me to stop her, but when she realizes I’m not going to, she flings the door open and pivots around to face me. “Rot in hell, Oliver,” she says angrily, and she walks out, slamming the door shut behind her.
“Pleasant woman,” I say out loud to the empty room. Then again, I’m not being fair. Compared to Claudia, Bethany is an angel.
“We have a problem.” Paul Fryman looks like someone stole his lunch money. “I received this in the mail from Ms. Weaver’s lawyer.” He pushes a manila envelope across the counter.
I open it, and half-a-dozen glossy black-and-white photos spill out. In the first one, Claudia is on the floor, her arms tied behind her back, her legs bound together, a ball-gag in her mouth. In the second, I’m kneeling next to her, a whip in my hands. In the third, she’s flinching away from the kiss of the leather.
“Oliver, this is bad. You should have told me about these photos.”
“I didn’t know about these photos,” I reply, tamping down my anger. There’s no point yelling at Paul. “Claudia took them without my consent.”
He gives me a frank look. “As your lawyer, I need to ask the question, Oliver. Was this activity consensual? Claudia’s implying it wasn’t. She’s implying that she was coerced into this.”
“It was her idea,” I reply flatly. “Our marriage hit a rough spot, and she suggested BDSM. She thought it might spice up our sex life.”
It didn’t. Two months later, I came back home from a business trip to find out she was cheating on me.
I take a deep breath. “I assume she’s trying to blackmail me with these pictures. How much does she want?”
“She doesn’t want money,” Paul replies carefully, collecting the photos and sliding them back into the envelope. “She wants half your Imperium stock, and she’s made it clear that she won’t negotiate. If you don’t play ball, these photos leak.”
Of course. Imperium is on the verge of going public, and there’s a lot of money at stake. And Claudia was always greedy.
But this time, she’s gone too far. Had she wanted money, I might have complied, but I’m never going to give her half of my company.
I get to my feet. “I’m not playing ball,” I tell my lawyer. “The photos can leak.”
Paul shakes his head. “Oliver, Imperium is about to go public. The last thing the IPO needs is compromising photos of its CEO. It casts doubt on your judgment.”
He’s right. I’m sure that I’ll be hearing the same thing from the board of directors, and possibly from my co-founder Finn. But my mind is made up. I’m not going to budge on this.
“I’m not giving her a portion of Imperium. That’s a non-starter.”
He nods, unsurprised. “I figured I’d give it a shot. You should alert your PR team. They’re going to need to manage the fallout.”
“I’ll see them tonight at the party,” I reply. “I’ll give them a heads-up. Are you going to be there? Janine should have put you on the guest list.”
“Oh no,” he replies at once. “I’ve been married for fourteen years, Oliver. If I work on Valentine’s Day, I won’t make it to fifteen. Laura and I have dinner reservations at Masa.”
I’ve met Paul’s wife, Laura. A more good-natured woman would be hard to find. Paul’s a lucky guy. “Fair enough.”
I’m just showing him out when my phone rings. It’s Sam, my building’s doorman. “Mr. Sanders is here, Sir,” he says. “Should I send him up?”
Finn? I frown in confusion. I was supposed to meet him at the office this morning, and Finn never deviates from the plan. “Sure.” What else is this day going to bring?
3
Finn
As I ride the elevator up to Oliver’s penthouse, I check my phone, but Miki isn’t online yet.
When we’d chatted a week ago, she’d mentioned that her neck had been bothering her. We probed a bit and learned that her friend’s apartment doesn’t have a desk or a chair, and Miki’s been spending long hours on the couch, hunched over her laptop.
That won’t do.
Miki doesn’t talk about it very much, but she’s got to be hurting for money. Top flight divorce lawyers don’t come cheap, and she’s been out of work for three months.
I almost want to hire her at Imperium, but every time I resolve to broach the subject with Oliver, I chicken out. Miki’s smart. If we work with her on a daily basis, our identities as Lancelot and Merlin won’t remain hidden for long, and when she finds out—
We shouldn’t have done it. Miki trusts Lancelot and Merlin, her friends on the DefCon forums. If she finds out the reason we befriended her was to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t hack int
o our company, we’re going to lose more than her trust. We’re going to lose her friendship.
I don’t want that to happen.
I type out a message to her. Lancelot and I have a present for you, mouse, but since you won’t tell us where you live, you’ll have to pick it up yourself.
An Aeron chair and a desk might not be exciting presents, but they’re useful ones.
That bastard Hickman did a number on Miki. Every once in a while, I see a flash of the laughing woman that sat between Oliver and me on the plane, drinking vodka and having a passionate debate with us on whether Peter Capaldi made a better Doctor than Matt Smith. But mostly, she’s gloomy, withdrawn and isolated.
My phone rings just as I knock on Oliver’s front door. It’s my grandmother. “Hello, Nana.”
“Finn, a lovely young woman just delivered two dozen baby pink roses,” she says. I can hear the pleasure in her voice. “Thank you so much, honey.”
The corners of my mouth tug up. I send my grandmother the flowers every year for Valentine’s Day, and every single year, she has the same note of pleased surprise in her voice when she thanks me. “You’re welcome, Nana.”
“Are you going on a date tonight?” she asks slyly.
“You aren’t even trying to be subtle anymore,” I chide. “No, I’m not. Oliver and I have a work party to go to.”
“A work party.” She sounds disgusted. “Of course. One day, I would like to hear you mention a woman, Finn. Not just work. Even Oliver was married once.”
“He was married to Claudia, who you loathed,” I point out.
Oliver opens his door and overhears my last sentence. “Is that Nana?” he guesses. “Tell her I wouldn’t wish Claudia on my worst enemy.”
“You heard that, Nana?”
“Yes, I heard him.” She sighs into the phone. “You’re busy with work all the time, Finn. Life is for more than that. Life is for living. I want to see you find a woman to care about, to grow old with.”
An image of Miki laughing on the plane flashes before my eyes. I blink it away. “I promise, Nana,” I reassure her. “As soon as Imperium goes public, I’ll make time for other things.”
I hang up, and Oliver quirks his eyebrow at me. “Weren’t we meeting in the office?”
I take a deep breath. Claudia and Oliver were married for two years, a rocky, contentious marriage that was marked by unhappiness. He’s not going to like what I’ve found.
“Yeah,” I say. I walk past him and pour myself a cup of coffee. “It’s about Claudia…”
“How did you find out already?” he asks, running his hands through his hair, a frustrated expression on his face. “I thought I’d have a couple of months before the shit hit the fan.”
I give him a puzzled look. “What are you talking about, Oliver? I came to tell you that Claudia has been dating Seb Fitzgerald for the last two months.”
Sebastian Fitzgerald was a classmate of ours in college. He’s always had an unhealthy competitive streak, and he’s obsessed with besting Oliver. When Oliver and I announced the formation of a data security firm, Fitzgerald did the same thing. When Oliver started dating Claudia, Sebastian found himself a blonde, blue-eyed girlfriend who looked so much like Claudia I was embarrassed for him.
But now, Fitzgerald’s upped the ante.
Kliedara, Fitzgerald’s company, is Imperium’s biggest competitor. They were never a major threat, but they’ve upped their game in the last six months. I suspect that Fitzgerald’s stealing our technology, but though I’ve looked long and hard for the source of the leak, I haven’t found it. But I will.
He inhales sharply. “She’s dating Fitzgerald? Of course she is. It all makes sense.”
He fills me in on his conversation with Paul, and I suck in a breath. “Claudia’s not interested in Imperium, just money. This isn’t her idea. It’s Fitzgerald’s.”
Oliver nods in agreement. “Sebastian Fitzgerald would love for me to be publicly discredited,” he says grimly. “He’s been wanting me to fail since college, and this could be his best chance.”
Oliver’s right. If the board decides that Oliver is a distraction ahead of the IPO, they have the authority to fire him. He’ll still own half of the company, but he won’t have any say in the day-to-day decisions.
“Still,” he continues, “they might make you CEO.”
“Not for all the money in the world, Oliver,” I say at once. “I’m terrible at motivational speeches.”
That draws a chuckle from him.
I straighten my shoulders. Oliver’s my best friend. He’s an excellent CEO. He’s strategic. He’s a great leader, charming and personable. Imperium can’t afford to lose him. “The next few weeks are going to be rocky,” I say firmly. “But we’ll survive it.”
We’ve been dreaming of taking Imperium public from the day we founded the company five years ago. I’ve worked too hard to let anything or anyone screw it up.
4
Miki
Success depends upon previous preparation, and without such preparation there is sure to be failure.
Confucius
What on Earth does one wear to a themed ball?
Bailey wouldn’t have a clue, neither would Piper nor Katie. Wendy might, but she’s swamped with work, and I don’t want to bother her.
Gabby.
I dial her number, and she picks up on the first ring. “I’m sorry about this morning,” she blurts out before I have a chance to tell her what I’m calling about. “The Miki I knew was friendly and spontaneous, and Aaron’s ruined all of that. I don’t want him to win, Miki, but I still shouldn’t have been so harsh. I’m really sorry. I feel like a complete jerk.”
“No,” I rush to reassure her. “The intervention was necessary. I needed to hear it. I’ve been pouting about Aaron too long. I didn’t call about that though. I’m going to a super-fancy party at the Waldorf Astoria tonight, and I have no idea what to wear. Help me?”
“You’re going to a party?” Her voice rises to an excited squeak. “Whoa. When you decide to get out of a funk, you don’t do it in half-measures, do you? Okay, we’re going shopping. I’ll be right over.”
She hangs up before I tell her I can’t afford much. Think of it as an investment in your career, Miki. But though I can try and fool myself, I doubt the Visa people are going to be that understanding.
Gabby looks at the electronic invitation. “The theme is ‘Pretty in Pink’?” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Ugh.”
“Tell me about it. I’m going to look like I’m going to prom.”
She chuckles. “Don’t worry. Friends don’t let friends buy ugly dresses.” She gives me a curious look. “I didn’t know you were going to a party tonight.”
“It’s for work,” I admit. “A prospective job opportunity.”
The two of us leave Wendy’s apartment and get on the subway, heading to a boutique in SoHo that Gabby swears by. “Is this connected to your forum buddies?” she asks me. “You know, the Knights of the Round Table ones?”
I laugh. “Lancelot and Merlin? Nah, this has nothing to do with them.”
“Just as well,” she replies. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think they’re good for you. You’re up all hours of the night chatting with them, and you’re substituting online friendship for real life social interaction.”
“I know.” I bite my lower lip. “I realize I’m avoiding people, but it’s been hard. My parents think I’m a failure because I’m thirty and single. They keep telling me how perfect Leah is, and what a mess I am.”
“And it doesn’t help that your friends are in relationships,” Gabby adds. “I can relate. When Bailey got together with Daniel and Sebastian, I’m not ashamed to admit I was a little envious.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m here for you,” she says. “Whenever you need me, you just have to call.” She grins widely. “Now, let’s go find you a dress for this party.”
“Frothy.”
“I’m not a ballerina.”
<
br /> “Prom hell.”
“Too much pastel.”
Okay, finding a pink dress isn’t easy. We’ve been to three different boutiques, and so far, we’ve turned up empty-handed. It’s four in the afternoon, and time’s running out. So much for my hopes of researching Imperium before the party. I would have liked to have spent some time learning about the company, but it’s looking increasingly unlikely.
“Look, I give up,” I sigh after the third boutique. “Let’s just pick one of the ugly ones. Nobody’s going to be looking at me anyway.”
“Nope.” Gabby shakes her head firmly. “It’s your birthday, and you’re going to find an amazing dress, and you’re going to look fantastic.”
“And at midnight, I’ll still turn into a pumpkin, fairy godmother.”
She rolls her eyes. “Your ball starts at eight,” she says. “The party will be in full swing at midnight. You better not leave early, or I will kick your ass. Okay, let’s try Valentina’s.”
The shop she’s standing in front of looks expensive. “Gabby,” I gulp, looking at the designer gowns in the front window, “I don’t want to be all Pretty Woman, but this place isn’t in my budget.”
She’s not listening; she’s pushed open the door and walked in. Sighing, I follow her into the fancy boutique, feeling awkward and out of place. This is the kind of boutique my mother and sister would shop at. Not me. My tastes are too weird for them.
“This one.” Gabby swoops in and picks out a layered magenta chiffon dress. “It’s perfect for you, Miki. You have an edge, and so does this dress. Try it on.”
I catch a glimpse of the price tag and almost faint. “Gabby, this dress is nearly three thousand bucks.”
She holds up a black credit card. “You’re not paying for it,” she replies with a sly grin. “Happy birthday.”
I’m seriously horrified. “Gabby, I can’t let you do this,” I stammer. “It’s too much.”
“Stop telling me how to spend my money,” she replies, pushing me toward the changing room. “This is the dress. Now, try it on so I can see if I’m right.”
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