by MJ Riley
The contact sent heat rippling over his skin and made his groin tighten.
It must have been a while since he'd last been with a woman for him to have such a strong reaction to her. When the edge of her hand rested against his, she looked up at him, flushing slightly. “Oh, sorry.”
He merely graced her with a kind smile. “Don't worry about it. I'm not going to melt or anything. Unless you sweat acid or something strange like that.”
His attempt at humor made her chuckle. “Why would I be sweating? Unless it's with excitement.”
“I doubt you could be more excited than Adeline,” he replied, although it was tinged with a bit of sarcasm as he remembered the way the woman had coveted his plans during the interview. No doubt she was one of those in the tech department who was already thinking about how a product that wouldn't see distribution for years could increase her salary.
Honestly, he couldn't understand how she and Charlotte got along so well. The head of the tech department was brusque, cold, and commanding. In contrast, Charlotte seemed reluctant to abuse her power and was far less difficult to have a civilized conversation with. Yet, they seemed close. He was willing to bet that there was history there, and he was sure he'd learn about it in due time.
“Christ, what time is it?” Straightening from her perusal of the open cube on her desk, the blonde woman stretched and glanced at the clock.
It was ten-thirty. David had agreed to overtime when Adeline had suggested, demanded really, that he change his schedule to accommodate Charlotte's busy mornings. Unbeknownst to her, the change in time suited his methods far more than earlier in the day. So, of course, he hadn't complained.
He never complained. “I'm exhausted, David. What about you?”
“I could certainly use some sleep,” he agreed. His words held no dishonesty. Ever since he'd started working at the company, he'd worked long days. Luckily, Adeline had agreed to an advance of his salary, and he'd been able to get someone to come to the apartment to take care of his mother. Within the week, he wanted to start taking her to see a psychiatrist. He hoped a doctor could succeed in breaking through to her where he had failed.
“Let's call it a night, then. I'm sure Addy can't get too mad. I feel like I learned a lot today.”
“You did.” The tall man nodded his approval. “Pretty soon we'll be able to move on from the MCube to bigger and better things.”
The blonde arched her brow in intrigue. “There are better things than the MCube?” David only shot her a mysterious smile. She laughed, reaching for the suit jacket she'd draped over the back of her chair. “Alright, alright, I'll be patient.”
“Thanks for that,” he said, teasing her gently, and she merely shook her head, feigning disapproval.
“You know...you are a marvel. I'm sure your parents must be pretty proud to have such a brainiac in the family.”
At her comment, David's gut twisted. For a moment, he fought to maintain his calm. He couldn't let her see how his emotions affected him, and he certainly couldn't give up the game so soon. He forced a smile. “Yeah...they're pretty over the moon.”
She grinned, turning to switch off the lamp on her desk so they were plunged into darkness. Never before had he been so grateful for a reprieve. Stepping forward, David closed the MCube deftly before packing it into its velvet bag, taking a breath to recover.
“Are we walking out together?” she asked.
David turned to her, his expression neutral. “Actually, I have to run this back down to the lab. I want to look over a few things while I'm there. I might be a while.”
When she opened the door to her office, he followed her out into the deserted lobby. Its only occupant was a security guard standing near the door. He immediately stood at the sight of them and said, “Done for the night, Miss Mathers?”
The blonde smiled winningly at him. “Finally. Thanks for looking after the place, Charlie.”
“No problem at all. Have a nice night, Ma'am.”
“Same to you.”
The ease with which she interacted with everyone who worked for her was enviable. His entire life, David had only a few friends. He simply hadn't had the time to make them. It was hard when one was constantly working, studying, and supporting his parents.
As they stepped into the elevator, Charlotte drew her jacket around her more tightly. “Wow. It's chilly in here.”
“Would you like my coat?” Before she could even protest, David was working his way out of his lab coat to drape it over her shoulders.
“Oh no, I can't. I'll be fine when I get outside—”
“Take it. There's plenty in the lab.” His lips curved slightly. “I'm sure the next one won't fit me any better though.”
His comment had her stifling laughter. “They really don't fit you very well at all, do they?”
“Nope.”
For a moment, he caught her looking over him.
As he'd grown older, David had sought exercise as a way to help him forget his troubles. He barely had time to squeeze it into his schedule, but at least an hour a day had become a necessity. As he pumped iron, he could focus on the burning of his muscles and tune out the issues that complicated his life. Although he'd been a skinny boy, he'd gradually filled out over the years, and he wasn't unaware of the fact that he wasn't the only one who benefited from the activity.
“If you don't mind my asking...” She ventured, before merely shaking her head, seeming to think better of her question. “Never mind. Forget it.”
“What?” David arched a brow, genuinely curious.
“Well...I'm kind of dying to know....how does a nerd get so...big?” The way her face screwed up as she tried to find a polite way to pose the question was, he had to admit, adorable.
“I eat my vegetables.” He smiled as he offered her his answer.
“What, like a truckload of them at every meal?” He glanced down at himself, trying not to let on how her flattery affected him.
“Something like that.” At that moment, the elevator beeped, announcing that they had reached the sixty-fifth floor. As he began to step out, she did as well, and they collided. Charlotte stumbled and, impulsively, David reached out to steady her.
“Oh, God. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Not my stop. So clumsy.” Her babbling made him smile slightly.
“Are you alright?” She was still clinging to his forearms and was so close that the floral scent of her perfume wafted over him. Indulging, he inhaled deeply. “Mmm, what is that? Dior?”
“I'm fine...I...” She gazed up at him, and for a moment, he was sure that if he lowered his head, she would let him kiss her.
It was tempting. Her red mouth was plump, and he was sure she would taste of the coffee she'd been drinking all evening. However, before he could make his move, the elevator beeped again. This time proclaiming that they were blocking the door—and effectively distracting them both.
“I should go.” Her statement was slightly breathless. Releasing him, the blonde woman stepped back into the elevator, her cheeks still pink. “Thanks for all your help tonight. Don't work too late.”
“Sure. No problem.” With that, she gave him a little wave before pressing the button for the first floor. Fluidly, the doors slid shut, blocking her from view and leaving him in the dimly lit lobby.
Damn. Just a few more seconds and she would have been in his arms. Desire pooled low in his belly at the thought.
There was no security on this floor, which was remarkable considering that it held the newest and most valuable collection of technology in the building. Only certain employees had key cards that allowed them access afterhours. Of course, since his sessions with Charlotte ran so late and because he was so influential in the department, he easily swiped in.
As he'd told Charlotte he would, he replaced the MCube in the lab, making sure the minute camera he'd installed in it, as he had in all his devices, was still running. He was going to film every second he could in the tech department—and
outside of it as well.
Pausing at his office, quite small when compared with Charlotte's but much larger than anything he'd ever been privy to before, he sank into the leather chair and turned on his computer. Within minutes, he'd signed into a remote server that rerouted his login information so it appeared to be coming from somewhere in Queens. With surprisingly little difficulty, he accessed the CEO's computer.
Then, he began to dig. As he had the previous night, David began to go through press releases, finance files, patent applications, and anything that Charlotte's clearance level allowed. He was looking for information he could use.
Over its illustrious twenty-five year history, the reputation of Mathers Incorporated had remained largely unmarred by scandal. This was due in large part, David believed, to Emerson Mathers’ paranoia. He refused to make deals with companies unless they were willing to commit to the most outlandish terms, and he didn’t become personally involved with anyone he believed was out for his fortune.
Unlike many other multi-billionaires his age, the man didn’t have multiple divorces or a string of girlfriends half his age. As far as David knew, he hadn't been with a woman since his first wife, Charlotte's mother, had passed away from Leukemia when she was four. Certainly, the man was careful. Few friends, even fewer family, and nothing to tie him to any adverse activity.
At least, nothing on the surface.
The man was selfish. This, David knew to be fact. Selfish men always wanted something for themselves. He was sure that if he kept digging, he would find something to incriminate the man. Once he was incriminated, David would begin tearing the company apart bit by bit.
While he was at it, he also searched for anything on Charlotte as well, though with less gusto than he had the previous day. As he sifted through photos of her in faraway Chinese villages with children, cutting ribbons on new factories, or grinning among throngs of African tribesman covered in their war paint, he found himself hesitating.
Mathers Incorporated had been founded and run for twenty-five years by an immoral man. Its tech department had been built upon a foundation of lies propagated by the same man. But, his daughter? What was Charlotte's crime?
She seemed genuinely concerned for the welfare of the less fortunate, and in the short time he'd worked with her, she'd shown nothing in common with her villain of a father.
Then, David remembered.
He remembered that while his father was passed out at the table drunk every night hers had been tucking her in. While he had been working at McDonalds in order to pay the power and water bills, she had been pampered and spoiled. While he had been attending his father's funeral, numb and disconsolate, she had been in Switzerland buying Rolexes and designer bags.
His mother had hardly spoken a word since the day he'd found his father's lifeless body in the bathtub. Though she'd been hurt by his withdrawal before, his death had broken something in her. Something that might never be repaired.
Plus, his father had taken his life because of Mathers Incorporated.
David's resolve hardened.
If it was tales of Charlotte's debauchery over her father's that would bring the company down, then so be it. He'd take anything he could get. He would never be able to get a decent night's sleep, and he’d never be able to dream without seeing his father's bloody corpse if he didn't have his revenge.
“Never,” he said aloud.
He looked through files until his eyes ached and his lids drooped. When he finally signed off of the remote server with nothing to show for his efforts, he was both frustrated and exhausted. He locked his office before leaving the building. The streets were so deserted that it was easy to catch a taxi home.
Upon entering the apartment, David dropped his keys on the table in the tiny front entryway. No doubt his mother was asleep, and he didn't want to wake her. He made pains to be quiet as he removed his shoes and rounded the corner to the living room.
The sight that greeted him caused him to freeze.
His mother had left her room. She was sitting on the couch, her skinny frame clad only in a thin cotton nightgown, and her long hair draped over her. In her hands, she clutched a framed photo that David had taken from the old house. As he looked at it almost daily, he could recount every detail of the image. It had been taken during the time that his father had worked for Mathers on a particularly summery weekend when they had gone to Coney Island. When Lester Marscomb had asked, someone had snapped a photo of them.
David had been ten. Each of his arms were twined through his parents’ arms, and his grin was topped with an ice cream mustache. To one side, his father ruffled his dark hair with his free hand as his mother made a silly face at a camera.
More than once, he'd been tempted to throw the damned thing away. It hurt him when he was reminded that he was robbed from more times like that, but the photo continued to occupy a place on the coffee table.
Now, his mother held it in a death grip. She stared at it without blinking, as tears rolled down her sunken cheeks.
“Mom, what are you doing out of bed?”
As gently as he could, David addressed her and crossed the room to sit next to her. He put his arm around her, holding her close. “It's alright, I'm here.” When he tried to take the photo from her, she wouldn't release it, continuing to gaze at the image as her eyes shimmered with grief. “Mom...” He trailed off, searching for words. He'd tried everything over the years to bring her back to the present, but nothing had ever worked. This was the first time she had moved without his urging in weeks, and it seemed that it was only to torture herself. “Mom, put it down.” His hands covered hers and the image, as his gut roiled with emotions. “Please don't cry.”
And yet she continued to cry. She wept all the tears that David had never allowed himself to shed. As he held her, the young man swore that he would bring Mathers Incorporated to its knees.
Chapter Nine
The next day was a Saturday, and so, with reluctance, David agreed to meet Marshall for lunch and leave his mother in the hands of the caretaker he'd hired. Though there was a part of him that wondered if she might understand and react positively to his work at Mathers Incorporated if he ventured to mention it to her, a wiser portion knew better. His mother was already under an extreme amount of stress. It wouldn't do to increase it any further.
As usual, Marshall chose some steakhouse in midtown that was a bit beyond David's price range. As long as the two men had known each other, the younger of them had always offered to pay when they went out. Of course, such matters always wore heavily on David's masculinity, and so he resolved that this time he would certainly pay his own way. Money from his time at Mathers could help him in that, he supposed.
He arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early and found his friend already seated in a booth in the back of the expansive, well-lit space. If there was one thing that he admired about his companion— apart from the fact that he'd also come from a relatively poor family and made his own way—it was that he was one of the only people he knew that was as punctual as himself.
“Hey man. How're things?” At thirty-three, Marshall was two years younger than him. He had begun to wear button-up shirts and slacks to every occasion since he'd started working on the stock floor, and he did so now—with a dark blue number that matched his eyes and well-tailored black pants. His dark blonde hair hosted not a single streak of gray, and he had warm brown eyes that women always appreciated.
“Exhausting.” David had resolved to be as truthful with his friend as he could. Of course, he couldn't reveal all the reasons that he had sought a job at Mathers recently, but he supposed revealing the details of working for them didn't reveal any untoward information. “Ever since they got hold of my designs, they've been working me around the clock.”
“Sounds like Mathers.” Marshall grinned, showing his white teeth. “You know, their stock has gone up a bit since you were hired. That your doing?”
The jest drew a small smile from David. “Pe
rhaps. It's slightly intimidating that I might have had such an all-encompassing influence so quickly.”
“Yeah, I'm not shocked. You frequently change the lives of the people you meet.”
Certainly, that was his plan.
Taking a seat, David grabbed a menu to begin looking over it. He managed to suppress a wince at the prices, reminding himself that he definitely had more money now than he’d had in the last few years. One nice lunch wouldn't kill him.
“So, is the tech department running around in circles to keep up with you?”
David chuckled. That was probably exactly what they were doing, but they were admirable at hiding it. That, and he did genuinely try to help them execute the designs with painstaking attention. The staff had to get them right if they were ever to use them—or lose them. The thought made his eyes gleam darkly. “Something like that.”
“And what about the office?” Marshall leaned over the table conspiratorially. “Any worthwhile women to ogle on your lunch break?”
For a brief moment, David's thoughts turned to Charlotte. If there was ever a woman worth ogling, it was her. Sure, there were plenty of younger techs and receptionists on his floor. Margery was cute, and Adeline, though terrifying, was a prime example of an athletic and esthetically pleasing woman. However, Charlotte...Charlotte trumped them all—with those curves, her sultry voice, and those amazing blue eyes. There was hardly any competition.
And he wasn't, of course, the only member of the tech department to notice. Every time the woman came down from the top floor, she left a trail of salivating men in her wake. When she wore those form-hugging pencil skirts and cropped jackets, it was a lot, David mused, for most tech nerds to handle. Luckily, he'd had a lifetime to prepare for the test, and only betrayed the emotions he wanted to betray.
At Marshall's question, his lips curved slightly. “A few. Enough to keep me busy, I suppose.”
The blonde man merely shook his head, his smile still firmly in place. “Hope that strict dating policy of theirs doesn't come around to bite you in the ass.”
He highly doubted it. He was, after all, shooting for one of the women who'd signed off on the policy. “Man...the Wagyu is the specialty for today.” Perusing the menu, Marshall glanced over at him. “I'd go for that if I were you. It's amazing.”
