by Camy Tang
She’d shocked Drake, too, because he had that neutral expression he wore when he was trying not to show he was unsure of something. Gerry blinked and wore a similar mask.
Her outburst had been a reaction to Gerry’s incomprehensible antagonism and the fiasco she’d just diffused. She felt like she worked here already when she’d only come in to talk to Drake about it.
The girls were quiet—more confused and surprised than silenced—but Drake still hadn’t said anything. His eyes found Venus, and she thought he had a pleading intensity in his gaze. It didn’t surprise her, considering his frustration in dealing with them when she’d walked into the office.
Fine.
She turned to the girls and gave a polite smile. “I’m Venus Chau. I have an appointment to discuss the CTO position with Drake and Gerry. I’m sure you understand—”
Snow White burst out, “He needs to make a decision about—”
Rose Red shook her head. “I’m not taking orders from her—”
“I have an appointment.” Venus was louder than both of them, plus she had a good six inches on them because of her heels. “Thank you, ladies.” She opened the door for them and stood waiting.
Her assertive confidence shocked the girls so much, they didn’t even bother to ask who she was to be giving orders. Snow White’s cheeks burned like neon cherries, while Rose Red had paled so much, her dark eyeliner made her eyes stand out like disembodied orbs. They stumbled in their strappy sandals as they hurried out. Venus closed the door behind them.
Gerry didn’t even wait for the door to fully close. “Drake, you never told me how young she was. She’s completely unsuitable.” She’d become all bristles and indignation.
Both Venus and Drake gave her identical looks of Are you high?
They spoke at the same time. Venus pointed toward the closed door. “Did you see what I did with Angeline”—while Drake motioned, also. “Did you see what she did with Ellen—”
They both stopped. Venus suddenly felt like her heels were too high and she’d topple in another second. Drake looked at his desk blotter.
Gerry had reversed her attack, now shifting her weight from foot to foot.
Drake sighed. “Venus, did Gerry bother to introduce herself?”
He knew his sister pretty well.
Gerry crossed her arms. “How was I supposed to know she wasn’t one of your girlfriends—”
“Gerry, no girlfriend has ever come to see me at work.” He sighed again, scratching the back of his head. His hair had become a swirl of salt and pepper, still kept short, emphasizing his long temples where the hairline looked like it might recede in a few years but never did.
He rose and walked around the desk, touching his sister’s elbow in a gesture so gentle, he suddenly turned into a stranger. Drake had never been soft in the years she’d worked for him. “We discussed this. You were on board with Venus yesterday.” His voice, too, had become like a chenille throw. It did strange things to her stomach.
“That was before I’d met her.”
“Has she done anything today that you object to?”
This was awkward. Venus moved toward the door.
“No.” Gerry spoke calmly, albeit grudgingly. “I suppose we’ll give it a trial run.”
Well, it was better than nothing.
Drake guided Gerry toward the door. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Gerry left, and he closed the door behind her.
Venus lifted her chin as she faced him, meeting his eyes directly even though her heart had started to pound like taiko drums in a fast, complex rhythm. “Drake—”
He took a long stride toward her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.
NINE
She thought she saw stars.
Firm and pliable, his lips pressed into hers. Strong. He was strong. His mouth was strong, and yet seemed to give strength rather than take it.
He wore the same scent. Something expensive. A thread of musk, a shimmering ribbon that reminded her of showering gold, a woodsy hint like a bamboo forest. She remembered whiffs of it as they passed each other in hallways, or eased around each other in bustling meeting rooms.
His arms around her pulled her close, holding her lower back with firmness but not captivity. Warm. His hands were warm. Burning, almost.
She felt every brush of his fine wool suit, the fold of her silk blouse crushed into her shoulder, the soft touch of his lip at the corner of her mouth. She wanted to reach her arms around him, fold him into herself.
This is Drake Yu.
She shoved him away.
The air shuddered through her throat as if her lungs had forgotten how to breathe. His scent lingered around her face, warm where it whispered against her cheek. Her legs wavered on her narrow stilettos.
He was looking at her, but she couldn’t raise her eyes from the blue and gray carpet, her breathing low and hard. She didn’t want to face him yet.
A bolt of lightning had blasted through her and fried her circuit board. She could almost smell the smoke from burned wires. Everything that had happened since she walked through those doors had culminated in a huge electrical explosion.
No, stop thinking like that. You have to forget about it.
“Venus, I’m sorry.”
Her fried circuit board started sizzling. She raised her head. “What am I supposed to say in response to that?” she snapped.
His eyes were too calm. Shouldn’t they be more animated—er, agitated than that? His placid expression made it seem as if he grabbed and kissed women in his office every day of the week.
“With Ellen and Annie …”
His quiet voice only made her start to tremble more.
“Thank you. I’ve been harassed all day. I’ve never worked with so many women …”
Grateful. He’d kissed her because he was grateful. She’d run with that. She’d ignore the hollow tang of an empty brass cauldron in her chest. “You’re welcome.” She bent to pick up her coat and purse, which she’d dropped when he…Stop thinking about it.
“Do you need a moment?”
So compassionate, his tone. Airy and silky like a mohair shawl. She took a deep breath, then rose to face him again. “No.” It sounded confident enough to her ears.
He seemed to think so too. He transformed from this unnerving, magnetic stranger to the old Drake—businesslike, efficient.
She could be that too. She had to be.
He gestured to a chair across from his desk. “Sit.”
She sat. Her legs stopped quivering.
Drake pulled a manila folder from his desk drawer. “Let’s talk business.”
Just like that. She swallowed and tried to look unemotional, professional. Neither of which she was feeling at the moment.
“Here’s the business plan.” He handed her a leather portfolio. She skimmed it as he talked. “Gerry’s idea for Bananaville is a virtual world specifically designed for children, teens, and their parents. Several large corporations have agreed to sponsor large ‘towns’ in Bananaville with thousands of interactive games for kids, teens, parents, and both. Our parent–child competitions have been especially successful.”
“Who creates the games?” She flipped a page.
“Either the company hires someone, or they hire us. We do some of the games ourselves, some we contract out.”
“Do the sponsors participate simply for a corporate presence in the virtual world?”
“No, some have been holding weekly or monthly sweepstakes and competitions. It also lowers the tipping point for the Bananaville users to use the sponsors’ products once they’ve interacted with their virtual town and played a few games.”
“Do you sell advertising space?”
“Some, but most sponsors want an interactive town. It draws in more traffic.”
“How’s security against predators?”
“Tight. Our security manifest is the last half of that section.” He pointed toward the section she was flipping t
hrough. “We also have pen-pal stations, stations for learning about different states and countries, science stations, history stations—we’re still developing games for them.”
Venus kept flipping. The concept was good. One of the largest consumer bases was parents, and a virtual world that encouraged family interaction was sure to garner more approval than objection. She had enough knowledge of the market to know this would be big in a few years, depending on the sponsors and the level of security.
And if she could get the employees in line. “Let me guess. Gerry only likes to hire women, ergo that shot me to the top of your list?”
He nodded and grunted. No apologies, no embarrassment.
“That’s part of your problem. Female dynamics at work are different from male dynamics, and the gaming industry is male-dominated. You have to treat the employees differently.”
“You seem to know how.” He nodded toward the closed door, referring to Snow White and Rose Red.
She met his gaze. “Not really. I’ve worked with men so long, I’m more comfortable with men than women. Are you sure you want to hire me?”
His mouth quirked up. He’d always been impressed with, yet at the same time surprised by, her candor—some things hadn’t changed. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t sure.”
“I’m just giving you a way out.”
“Getting cold feet?”
“No. I just want you to know upfront where I’m coming from.”
“Another reason why I want to hire you.”
“Gerry …” She hesitated, but then decided she needed to bring it up. “Gerry doesn’t seem to like me at all. Are you sure she’s okay with this?” She raised her eyebrows at him.
He sighed, his fingers massaging his forehead in a familiar gesture. “She’s under a lot of stress. Her husband had an affair, so she divorced him last year and she’s raising her kids alone. He managed to take a big chunk of their shared bank account.”
That was awful. She’d be cranky too, if that happened.
“This company is important to her. She’s a bit wary of change. She likes being in control of things.”
And she wasn’t able to control things very well, apparently, which probably galled her. That explained her reaction to Venus after she’d stepped in and taken care of the ruckus in the break room. “Be straight with me. Am I going to have to fight to prove myself to her?”
Drake didn’t answer at first. Then he looked her in the eye. “Gerry’s not a people-person. But she’s logical and fair.”
Meaning, she might eventually get over this unreasonable assumption that Venus was too young to be able to do a good job.
“It would only be for twelve months?” she asked.
“Or until you can find a competent CTO to replace you.”
“You want me to do candidate screening too?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it. You’ll get an assistant to help you.”
“Fine.” She could deal with that.
He rose. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to decide.”
She rose, as well, juggling the business plan, her purse, and her trench coat. “When would you want me to start?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yesterday.”
“I’ll call you when I’ve made my decision.” She hesitated, then held out her hand.
Bad move. He took it, a warm glove over her fingers, and he wouldn’t let go. His eyes, glowing like dark amber, burned into hers, but she was too stubborn to look away.
“Venus, are you going to be able to work with me?”
Said the spider to the fly.
She pulled her hand away “If I have to.”
His eyes darkened at the insult. Something inside her darkened too. She had to remember that this was still Drake, and she wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of her ever again.
She headed toward the office door. “It’s only for twelve months.” She exited and shut it behind her.
She almost got into three accidents on the way home.
Really, how could anyone expect her to pay attention to the road after what had happened?
A car horn blitzed by her as she narrowly avoided sideswiping a minivan, too intent on crossing two lanes in order to make her exit to look and see who she might hit.
Okay, four accidents.
To be honest, rarely had anything upset her so much that she couldn’t drive. As she pulled into her parking slot, her hands rattled against the steering wheel. No, stay with me until you can get inside.
She got out of the car, then dropped her keys as she fumbled for her alarm button. Breathe. Deep. In. Out. The excess oxygen made her see spots. She kept her head above her heart as she knelt to pick up her keys—the last thing she needed was to pass out.
She made it up the stairs and into her apartment. Kicking off her shoes, she leaned back against the closed door, then slid to the floor, heedless of her silk pants.
The quiet of the apartment calmed her body, but her head whirled like a pinwheel. She touched the cold tile floor with her palms, needing the solid feel, the chill of the stone, the smoothness of the surface. My place. My home.
Here, she didn’t have to wear stilettos. Here, she didn’t have to be on guard and on top of things in order to prove herself to her male coworkers. Here, she didn’t have to be strong and independent. Here, she was herself, the real Venus, the girl she’d always be—Daddy’s little girl, a competitive gamer, an obsessive housekeeper. Here, she was safe in her clean, neat world.
Not quite safe. Memories of what had happened invaded—here, where she was vulnerable.
She was more affected by what had just happened than she wanted to be. What did it mean?
No, it didn’t mean anything. She’d heard him—he’d had girlfriends. He’d also said he was grateful. Well, he hadn’t said it, but he’d implied it. He was also the kind of man who would forget any type of episode in order to get the job done. And he obviously expected that of her too.
He was attracted to her. Very few things surprised her, but that had come out of left field. Considering their rocky parting when she’d quit his company years ago, and the fact that he’d never been attracted to her before, even when she went from fat to fab while working for him, his attraction now confounded her.
But lots of men had been attracted to her—after she lost weight. She usually despised them because they only saw her face and figure. It was the main reason her business suits were masculine cut and dark colors. Drake had seemed to value her as an employee before she lost weight, but he’d been like the rest of them after—she’d never been a person to any of them; she’d just been an asset who had suddenly become more useful to them. So while they were attracted to her, she had yet to find one worthy of her good opinion.
She’d never been attracted to anyone like this before. And to Drake Yu, of all people.
She wasn’t going to lie to herself—she’d enjoyed the kiss. She’d never enjoyed a kiss ever, in her entire life. Guys hadn’t wanted to kiss her before the transformation, and she’d had to avoid unwanted ones after.
Did it mean something that she was attracted to Drake, even if it was only physical?
No, she didn’t have time for a relationship, and not with this man. Not when she was working for his sister’s company, not when he’d betrayed her. He’d done it once—who was to say he couldn’t do it again? He might be changed, but he might not be changed either. She didn’t want to risk figuring out which was true.
The comforting smells—bleach, Lysol, Febreze, and a hint of citrus from her perfume—had loosened the tightness around her neck like a collar slipping a notch. The sight of the simple furniture and simple colors—even the corner of her Vogue magazine hanging over the edge of the glass coffee table—calmed her with its familiarity. She got to her feet. She had to change.
She picked one of her powersuits, black with dramatic gold metal braiding, paired with one of her most expensive shoes—a gold python pump fr
om Christian Louboutin. She made up her face and hair with more care than usual. After all, she wanted to go out in style.
She’d sweep in to Oomvid, type up her resignation letter, leave it on Yardley’s desk—or his admin’s, if he was busy—and exit the building like a royal procession. He’d be surprised—he’d be furious, possibly—but she would be her usual cool self. She never brought private things from home to work, not in all the years she’d been working in the game development field, not in any of the startups she’d been at. She’d walk in and walk out with head high, proud and elegant, and everyone would stare as she left.
Her only regret was her programming team, but she’d email Jaye later today.
At the front door again, she paused to take another deep breath. This was it. She would refuse this golden opportunity at Oomvid, which while not the most moral company, was the fastest growing in the Bay Area, and risk her own startup. And in between there, work for her ex-boss, handsome and ruthless. Oh, yeah—no problem.
She opened the door and took the plunge.
TEN
God had given Venus the perfect Operations Manager.
A slim girl—hapa, Venus guessed, from her half-Asian, half-Causasian features—walked into Venus's new office at seven thirty the next morning. “Hello, Miss Chau. I’m Esme Preston, the Operations Manager and your assistant.” She gave a sweet smile and held out her hand.
Venus automatically shook her hand, glad for the interruption in the middle of poring through the policy and procedures manual. She’d been at work since six, and the fine print was making her eyes cross.
Esme held a leather folio, flipped open, and she whipped out a pen. “What can I do for you today?”
“Please sit.” Venus waved her into the seat opposite the desk.
Esme perched on the edge of the padded chair, a picture of eagerness. Her half-Asian features gave her round face a youthful glow.
Venus didn’t want to be hopeful, but Esme’s folio and pen gave her an air of efficiency. Just once, Lord, can I please have a halfway competent assistant? “What are your normal responsibilities as Operations Manager?” No sense stepping on toes first day on the job.
