He chuckles, a low sound that has my insides throbbing. “Of course,” he agrees. Finn’s still watching, a smile playing about on his lips. He hasn’t moved away. Maybe they’re telling me, ever so subtly, that they’re interested in sharing?
Don’t be ridiculous, Miki. You’re imagining things. All your friends are in ménages, and that’s messing with your head. Not everyone wants a threesome. In fact, most people don’t.
The tall woman, Janine, hovers near us for a third time, a frustrated expression on her face. Oliver sighs. “I think I’m being summoned,” he says ruefully. He reaches for his wallet and pulls a business card out of it. “I’d love to take you out to dinner sometime. Call me?”
Three months ago, I’d passed on Oliver’s invitation. But my friends staged an intervention for me this morning, and I promised them I’d do better. And what better day than my birthday to start something new?
I pluck the card from his fingers. “Maybe.”
He laughs. He lifts my hand and presses a kiss on my palm. He tosses back his drink in one gulp, then he disappears into the crowd.
I half-expect Finn to follow him, but the other man makes no move to leave. “It’s your birthday,” he says, his sky-blue eyes piercing into me. “Yet you’re here, not with friends.”
“What about you?” I counter. “It’s Valentine’s Day. No date, Finn? No special someone you want to be with?”
“I’m happily single.” A wry smile tugs at his lips. “Also, I don’t believe in Valentine’s Day.”
“Why not?”
He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “If I were in love with a woman,” he says quietly, “I’d show her how much I care every day. She won’t need flowers in the middle of February to know she’s the most important person in my life.”
Aaron took me to the fanciest steakhouse in Houston for Valentine’s Day last year. At the same time, he was fucking his assistant.
Don’t go there, Miki. Aaron’s in the past.
“My friends woke me up with cake this morning,” I reply, skipping past his comment about Valentine’s Day and focusing on his earlier remark.
Finn smiles. “That’s a great way to start the day,” he replies. “What kind?”
“Carrot with a ginger cream cheese frosting,” I say smugly. “I’m not ashamed to admit I ate two pieces.”
“Why would you be?” he asks, his eyes raking down my body again, his gaze appreciative. “You look fantastic.”
His fingers trace the black yoke of my dress, skimming over my cleavage. My breathing catches at his touch. “You’re flirting with me,” I whisper, not pulling away. I’m like a moth dancing around the open flame, chasing danger, and tempting fate. Butterflies dance in my stomach as Finn’s fingers lace in mine, and he tugs me closer.
I should be running away, but I’m not. My pulse is racing, my throat is dry, and I’m rooted to the spot.
Finn bends his head toward me, almost in slow motion. He’s going to kiss me. My insides clench with anticipation. Yes, please. It’s been so long since I wanted someone with this kind of raw, aching need.
His lips meet mine, warm and firm. His hand rests on my waist, drawing me closer. I make a noise of pleasure in my throat and tilt my head up, pressing against him and deepening the kiss.
Finn’s tongue slides against the seam of my lips. I open my mouth and kiss him back. The noise of the party recedes to the background, and blood pounds in my ears. Finn’s hand moves from my hip to the back of my neck, and he deepens the intensity of the kiss.
Carrot cake for breakfast, and a kiss for dinner. I’m having quite the birthday.
I bring my hand up to his face. His stubble scratches my skin faintly, and the slight rasp of it sends shivers of heat through me. My breasts are smashed into Finn’s broad chest. His hips are pressed against me, and I can feel his erection against my stomach. Shamelessly, I press closer to him, and his hand moves lower, cupping my ass before he seems to realize where he is.
He breaks off the kiss and stares at me, his eyes foggy with desire. “Miki,” he exhales. “If I told you I have a hotel room upstairs, would you be interested?”
For a second, for one brief second, I’m tempted to throw caution to the wind and say yes.
Then common sense reasserts itself. “Yes,” I reply truthfully. “But I wouldn’t do it anyway.”
His eyes bore into me. “No,” he agrees. “You wouldn’t.” He pulls a business card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Like Oliver, I need to mingle or risk the wrath of Janine. Will you have dinner with me?”
“So you can try changing my mind?”
His lips curl up. “My intentions aren’t completely pure, it’s true,” he says. “But I’d like to get to know you better as well.”
“Oliver asked me to dinner too.”
His eyes meet mine. “You can do whatever you want, Miki,” he replies. “You can have dinner with him. Or me. Or both of us.”
You know what I should be doing? Freaking out. You know what I’m doing instead? Being intrigued. Taking Finn’s business card. What the hell has gotten into me?
“I should go,” I mutter. I don’t know where User0989 is, and I don’t care. I’m not thinking about work right now. I’m thinking about the two men whose business cards I hold in my hand.
“Of course.” Finn’s ice-blue eyes survey me intently. “Happy birthday again.”
In the lobby, I stand in line to get my coat. There’s a stack of brochures on a side table, half-hidden by a tall vase of flowers. Imperium brochures. I grab one and idly start reading it as I wait for the couple ahead of me to retrieve their belongings.
Then my heart stops.
There are photos of Imperium’s executive team on the back.
I recognize two of them. Oliver Prescott is the CEO of Imperium, and Finn Sanders is the Chief Operating Officer.
My entire body goes cold. I kissed Finn. I flirted with Oliver. They both invited me to dinner. And they’re the owners of Imperium.
My mind is churning, and I don’t know how to process my reaction.
I reach the front of the line and hand the woman there my token. She takes it from me and fetches my coat and purse. “I hope you enjoyed the party,” she says.
“Sure.” I put my coat on, and pull my gloves out from the pockets. It’s February, and it’s freezing outside, and a year in Houston has decreased my tolerance for the cold.
“Ma’am?” The coat check woman points to a folded piece of paper on the floor. “Something fell out from your pocket.”
I pick up the scrap, my heart pounding. I’ve borrowed Gabby’s coat, and there was nothing in the pockets when I arrived at the party. This must be a message from User0989.
I wait until I’m in a cab before I read the note. Sure enough, it’s from him.
Your next step is to apply for a job at Imperium. I’ll send you more details on Monday. And Ms. Cooper, don’t worry. You’ll be hired.
7
Finn
It has been my experience that folks who have no vices have very few virtues.
Abraham Lincoln
“She lied to us.” Oliver’s expression is dark. It’s well past midnight. The ballroom has almost cleared out and only a few stragglers remain.
Miki’s appearance has thrown both of us for a loop. We’ve been chatting with her daily on the DefCon forums. I spent half an hour talking to her today, damn it, but she never mentioned coming to our party.
All kinds of alarms are going off in my head.
“I asked Miki earlier today what her plans were,” Oliver continues, taking his fourth glass of rum and coke from the bartender with a nod of thanks, “and she said she was going to drink wine and eat ice cream.”
“I know.” I don’t like this. Today’s been a shit show. First the Claudia photo bombshell, then finding out that she’s dating Fitzgerald, and now this.
I’ve been spending long hours trying to find out who’s leaking proprietary information to Fitz
gerald. Now, I have a new mystery to investigate. What is Miki up to?
“This isn’t a coincidence,” I tell my friend grimly. “She’s up to something.”
Oliver nods bleakly. “I thought we could trust Miki,” he mutters. “I guess I was wrong.”
I draw in a deep breath. After Claudia, Oliver’s trust in women has frayed badly. Miki was one of the few people he still had faith in. But now—
I sigh. Fucking Claudia. She really did a number on my friend. Before he met her, Oliver was mellow and laid-back. Now, there’s a darkness in him I don’t like. “Don’t drink too much,” I advise him.
He ignores me. I get the feeling he’s going to be at the bar all night long.
8
Miki
On Saturday, I head to the Plaza to have afternoon tea with my mother and sister, a weekly Cooper tradition that I’ve always hated. I don’t fit in with the ‘ladies that lunch’ crowd; I never have.
Then again, the tiny finger sandwiches are amazing, and my mother is paying.
The two of them are seated next to a potted palm tree. A white-clad waiter shows me to their table. “Mackenzie, there you are,” my mother greets me, running a disapproving eye over my outfit. Audrey Cooper does not believe in pants, and I’m sure my red sweater, simple white shirt, and navy blue pants violate some kind of dress code. Pity. I thought I looked quite good in it. Nautical. Very Sea-Captain-ish.
“Hello, Mother.” I graze my lips over her cheek, careful not to disrupt her makeup, and sink into my seat. “Hey Leah.”
My sister’s lips twitch. “Happy birthday, Miki. Sorry I couldn’t take you out on Friday.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I reply. “Valentine’s Day. I get it. Did you and Benjamin go out?”
Her smile dims. “No, he had to work late.” There’s a dispirited tone in her voice, and my spidey senses go on full alert. I’ll have to ask Leah what’s going on when my mother isn’t around.
We make our tea selections. “I got you a present, dear,” my mother says once the waiter is out of earshot. She hands me a small robin-egg-blue box. “Leah helped me pick it out,” she replies. “I hope you like it.”
I open the jewelry box and find a ring inside. A chunky jade stone is set into a thick gold band. It’s absolutely beautiful. “Thank you, mom. I love it.”
“Leah tells me it’s quite the rage for single women to wear right-hand rings,” she says. “And since you don’t have a man to buy you jewelry—” Her voice trails off.
Moment ruined. Classic Audrey Cooper. I should be used to my family by now. Leah looks indignant and mouths ‘I did not’ to me. I pat her on the shoulder.
“You look pale, Miki,” my mother adds. “You keep such odd hours.”
“She looks fine.” Leah rolls her eyes. “Have some tea, mother. Eat a sandwich. Try not to be snide.”
“Well, really,” my mother begins, but I cleverly put a fruit tart on her plate, the one with lemon custard, topped with slices of glazed strawberries. That stuff is like catnip, and it works perfectly to divert her attention.
“What did you do on Valentine’s Day, mom?”
She gives me a brittle smile. “I just had a quiet evening.”
Translation: My father was out banging whoever he’s sleeping with at the moment, and my mother is doing her best ostrich imitation.
I shouldn’t have asked.
Leah changes the topic hastily. “What did you do for your birthday?” she asks me. “Did your friends take you out?”
I shake my head. “I went to a ball at the Waldorf Astoria.” I think back on the day. Shopping for dresses. Gabby carefully doing my make-up and my hair. The pink balloons and the shining silver stars. And of course, Finn and Oliver. “It was very Cinderella-like.”
My mother’s hand freezes midway to her mouth. “You went to a ball?” she asks. “Of your own free will? Has someone kidnapped my first-born child and replaced her with a clone?”
She’s staring at me with a shocked expression on her face. As is Leah. “I go to parties,” I reply defensively. “There’s no need to look at me like I’ve grown a second head.”
“Wrong, you never go to parties,” Leah replies. Traitor. “I think I could count the number of parties you’ve been to in your life on one hand.”
“Every single Monday night, I hang out with my friends,” I retort.
“That’s not a party,” she says. “For something to be considered a party, you’ll have to speak to one person you don’t already know, Ms. I-Hate-Talking-To-New-People.”
“I don’t think that counts as the official definition.” Oh My God, this cucumber sandwich. In a perfect world, I’d wear my right-hand ring and marry this cucumber sandwich. So good.
My mother looks at my sandwich-laden plate and sighs. I quickly offer her a petite-four, forestalling her timeworn lecture of eating like a lady. “Tell me about this ball,” she says instead. “It was at the Waldorf Astoria?”
“In the ballroom.” I know that’ll impress her. “A company called Imperium threw a customer appreciation party for their clients. I thought I might find a job there.”
Job, schwab. Audrey Cooper doesn’t care about my employment prospects, just my marital status, and she’s a bloodhound in her quest to get me coupled again. “And did you meet any eligible young men, Mackenzie?”
Oliver and Finn’s business cards are still tucked in my purse. I tossed and turned all Friday night, wondering what to do about the complicated situation. I still don’t know.
Leah chuckles. “You’re blushing,” she accuses me. “Tell us everything.”
I think of the expression in Finn’s eyes as he lingered over the swell of my breasts. The way Oliver’s fingers caressed my bare arms. The sparks that ran through my body when Finn kissed me. The promise of so much more.
You can have dinner with him. Or me. Or both of us.
“You’d have loved the dress I wore,” I tell Leah, knowing that any mention of clothes will distract my fashionista sister from snooping.
It works.
It’s beginning to get dark outside when we leave. It’s snowing, and I’m debating hailing a cab when Leah grabs my elbow. “You’re walking home, aren’t you, Miki? I’m heading your way. I’ll come with you.”
It takes me a second to catch the tightness in her voice. “Sure,” I say readily, hugging my mother goodbye. The doorman outside the Plaza has already hailed her a cab and is holding the door open for her. “See you next week, mom.”
“What’s going on?” I ask Leah when she’s gone. “I doubt you have a sudden desire to walk in the slush and snow.”
“I want to talk to you about Benjamin,” she replies. She takes a deep breath before blurting out, “I think he’s cheating on me.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Oh, Leah,” I murmur, lost for words. The Cooper women always seem to draw the short straw when it comes to the men in our lives. “Are you sure?”
“No. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Can you do your hacking magic and find out?”
“You want me to read his email?”
She shakes her head. “Not email. Our finances. We have a joint bank account, but this year, his Christmas bonus was only half the size of last year’s. I want you to figure out if he’s hiding money from me.”
“Of course.” The legalities of what I’m going to do are murky, but this is my baby sister. I would walk through fire for her.
Back home, I go straight to my laptop. I check DefCon’s forums from habit, but Lancelot and Merlin aren’t online. Neither of them has logged on since Friday night, which is strange behavior for them.
Not everyone is glued to their computers all the time, Miki, I mutter as I log into my sister’s bank account, using the account information and password she gave me. I scan the transactions, looking for anything that seems out of place. It’s as good a place to start as any.
Three hours later, I hit a wall. A high, impenetrable one. Ben’s online accounts are p
rotected by Imperium. Why does my brother-in-law feel the need for top-of-the-line data security? Not a clue.
I guess I’ll be applying for that job after all.
9
Finn
Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.
Sun Tzu
I spend most of my weekend at work, deliberately staying away from the DefCon chat rooms. I miss chatting with Miki, but I’m not ready to talk to her. Not until I understand what’s going on.
Monday morning, I get to work by seven. Fortifying myself with three cups of coffee, I make my way to Lawrence Kent’s office. Technically, the CFO reports to Oliver, not me, but I’ve never let it stop me in the past, and I’m not going to let it stop me now.
Sometime between his fourth and fifth drink on Friday, Oliver mentioned that Kent had borrowed a developer from the Shield team. That’s complete bullshit. Kent doesn’t need any additional team members—he’s the reason every single finance initiative is late. He’s unpleasant to work with, condescending, arrogant and petty. He never gives his team any credit and throws them under the bus with regularity. Turnover in his division is insanely high. Nobody wants to work for Lawrence, and I don’t blame them.
I’m in a very bad mood as I make my way to the fourteenth floor. Kent’s typically in early, and sure enough, he’s already in his office, eating a bagel and reading the Wall Street Journal. “Sanders,” he says, nodding coolly when he sees me. “How was your weekend?”
“Busy.” There’s no love lost between the two of us, and I’m too irritated right now to observe the niceties. “I found out on Friday that you poached one of Sachin’s team members. What the fuck, Larry? Shield’s a critical project for us.”
“I mentioned it to you,” he argues. “I told you I needed someone with a technical background to consolidate our financial statements ahead of the IPO.”
Ménage in Manhattan: The Complete 5-Book Ménage Romance Collection Page 89
