by Ward, Deena
“They’re all Roundtree buildings, Miss. Different divisions.”
“All four buildings are part of Roundtree?”
“Yes. This is the main administrative building. To your left is the headquarters for the pharmaceutical and chemical divisions. Across the way is the home of all things tech, computers, software, data security, that sort of thing. And to your right is financial services, some manufacturing and retail, mostly whatever doesn’t fit with the other two divisions.”
I could only shake my head. Astonishing. Four twenty-story buildings in one complex. And they weren’t tall, thin buildings. They were long and oval-shaped, stretching forever it seemed.
I thanked the guard in a daze and wandered off down the avenue toward the fountain. Thanks to the sprays of water, it was cooler there. I stopped and slowly turned in a circle, taking in all that was Roundtree Holdings, or at least all that I knew of in this city, anyway.
Remarkable. How had one man built all of this? I stood there for the longest time, watching the play of the water droplets in the sunlight, feeling more than a little overwhelmed that a man who was capable of creating all of this, had wanted me. It seemed impossible.
I looked down into the water, at the coins covering the bottom of the pool. Funny how people did that, I thought, always tossing coins into any fountain they passed, thinking it would grant them a wish. Silly superstition.
A deep voice behind me said, “Are you going to make a wish?”
I knew that voice. It was Gibson. I turned, smiled, and said, “Not really my thing. And anyway, I didn’t bring my purse.”
He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a coin. He held it out to me and said, “Here. This one’s on me.”
I took the coin from him, the awareness of how close I was to touching him nearly causing my hand to tremble. I turned back to the fountain. Made my wish and tossed the coin. Plunk, a tiny sound lost in the downpour surrounding it.
The wind shifted and sent some of the spray in our direction, so Gibson and I stepped away from the fountain to avoid being drenched. He pointed me to a nearby bench, and we sat beside one another, not touching.
We didn’t speak for a while, until Gibson asked, “What did you wish for?”
I quickly thought up a lie. “That you’d buy Linton Cosmetics.” A half lie, really. That was not my wish at the fountain, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. I did hope that he would buy our company.
I didn’t dare look at him while telling my white lie, so I couldn’t see his expression when he said, “I see.”
I said, “How could anyone not want to be part of this? It’s incredible what you’ve done here. Spectacular.”
“I’m happy you think so. Construction on the final building, the one over there that’s our miscellaneous catch-all headquarters, was finished just last year.”
“It’s beautiful, truly Gibson. All of it.”
I snuck a glance his way, caught him looking at me, a gentle expression on his face. I smiled and looked away, feeling kind of giddy and girly. Silly nonsense.
I drew myself up, said, “So, if you were to buy Linton Cosmetics, would your plans be to build it up, or dismantle it and sell the parts.”
He said, “We don’t buy businesses to dismantle them. We buy companies that we think we can build upon, improve, companies that will benefit from and be a benefit to our other businesses.”
“Do you own any other cosmetic companies?”
“No. This would be a new venture for us.”
“Do you think you’ll buy Linton?”
“I don’t know yet, Nonnie.”
“Well, if it helps you make your decision, you’d be smart to buy us and even smarter to keep Isabel in charge of things. She’s brilliant. She’s managed to keep us going even though the Lintons do nothing but hold her back.”
Gibson smiled. “And she apparently inspires great loyalty from her employees.”
I smiled back. “She does.”
He said, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
It was so hard not to touch him. I had to think that he wouldn’t mind it, or he wouldn’t be out here with me. But I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t make that first move.
I could change the subject though to something I’d been aching to say for a long time.
I said, “I tried to email you back.”
He looked surprised. “What?”
“You know. The email you sent me. I tried to respond but it bounced back to me.”
“Oh, I didn’t expect that you would want to respond, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated, so ...”
“But it wasn’t because you didn’t want me to answer?” A hard question to ask, that one.
He answered quickly, “No. It wasn’t that at all.”
“Good,” I said, with a half smile.
He nodded slowly, looked cautious.
I said, “I wanted to thank you for telling me everything. I imagine that wasn’t easy to do, and I really appreciate it.”
I watched visible relief pass over his features. I added, “And I wanted to apologize to you, too.”
He said, “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I do. I said some ... some things that I shouldn’t have and I regret it. I wish I had ...”
“That’s not necessary.”
I looked into his dark eyes and I wanted to climb onto his lap and kiss him, ruffle his perfect hair and wrinkle his smooth pants.
I hopped up. “Well, anyway. I should get back. I’ve been gone a long time. I’m glad I got a chance to talk to you. About Linton, and stuff.”
I walked off before he could reply, but hadn’t gone far when he jogged up beside me.
He said, “Wait a second. Will you be coming here again tomorrow?”
I stopped and answered shyly, “Yes. That’s the plan anyway.”
He asked, “Would you like to go to lunch with me? I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine. My closest friends actually.”
I smiled. “Who?”
He answered, “The Martins, Xavier and Paulina. I mentioned them in my email. I know they’d like to meet you.”
I smiled wider. “Yes, I’d like that.”
He finally returned my smile. Did the sun just get brighter?
He said, “”Good. I’ll come and get you around noon, if that will work.”
“It does.”
We grinned at each other, then I turned and headed back toward the administrative building. When I reached the glass doors, I snuck a peek back to see what he was doing.
Gibson was standing where I left him, all straight and strong, sunlight glinting off the few strands of silver in his dark hair, watching me peeking at him, a pleased look on his handsome face.
As I slipped inside the building, I wondered how I could have ever thought he was a cold, indifferent man.
Chapter 10
A few minutes before noon the next day, I waited outside the conference room for Gibson to fetch me. I didn’t want my co-workers grilling me about meeting with the head honcho of Roundtree, so I made up an excuse about joining a friend for lunch somewhere “in the area.” A pathetic excuse, really, but I was nervous about seeing Gibson, and was off balance as a result.
Precisely at noon, Gibson rounded a corner in the hallway. He was decked out in another of his smart, perfectly-fitted suits. My heart fluttered when he smiled and held out his hand to me.
We exchanged mumbled greetings, then headed to the elevator, side by side.
It was an awkward, silent ride to the lobby, and a nearly silent walk to his town car, the only words spoken being his, a comment about how it wasn’t as hot outside today as it was the day before.
Mostly, I just smiled like a doofus teenager.
It wasn’t any better once I was in the car, settled into the cushy leather seats, secreted in the coolness of the back seat, the darkened divider separating us from the driver.
I knew I had to say something. I picked the obvi
ous.
I asked, “So we’re meeting your friends for lunch. Paulina and Xavier, right?”
“Yes.”
I almost sighed. Gibson and his darned one-word answers.
I said, “You said they’re the caretakers of your estate.”
“Yes. Paulina manages the grounds and outdoor staff while Xavier manages the house and household staff. He also does some cooking when he feels like it.”
That was better, I thought. A little something to move forward with.
I asked, “How long have they worked for you?”
“I’ve known Xavier almost as long as I can remember. He worked for my father originally. Later, when he married Paulina, she came to the estate to live and work there as well. That was many years ago.”
I enjoyed the play of muscle in his jaw when he spoke, the movement of his lips. I said, “So they’re as much friends as employees, then.”
“More friends, actually. They don’t need to work. They do it because they want to. They like it.”
“That’s kind of a foreign notion in my world, working only because you like it,” I said with a grin.
Gibson said, “They made a good investment many years ago, and it’s left them comfortable.”
“Let me guess. They invested in Roundtree.”
“That’s right. The Martins, my father, my godfather, all invested and helped me in the early years of growing my business. I couldn’t have done it without them.”
I said, “Do they have any active role in Roundtree?”
“No. My father and godfather are both deceased and their shares reverted to me on their deaths. I have a considerable controlling interest. Besides, the Martins aren’t interested in the business itself.”
I had such a strong desire to lean over and kiss Gibson that fighting it off took me out of the flow of the conversation. I mumbled an, “I see,” then we lapsed back into silence.
I looked out the window. I believed I could feel his gaze on me, or maybe I only wanted it there. I could not have been mistaken about the tension in the car, the energy between me and Gibson. No mistaking that.
When we arrived at the restaurant, I suppressed the worry that I was woefully underdressed to be dining out with someone like Gibson. I had chosen my best clothes for the day, but I knew enough to recognize that my best wasn’t even close to good enough.
Gibson helped me out of the car and when I saw where we were, I nearly sighed in relief. It was just a small Thai cafe, the sort of place I would go to any day of the week. It was a place where I wouldn’t be out of my element.
He ushered me inside the building. The smell was heavenly. The decor was exactly what could be expected, a shabbily ornate oriental style.
People were packed into the small room. Gibson scanned the area, nodded at an older couple sitting at a table near the back of the room, then guided me in their direction. The couple stood as we approached.
The woman, Paulina, shook my hand firmly in greeting. I guessed her to be in her early- to mid-forties. She was taller than me, with shoulder-length bobbed hair that was made all the more dramatic by its color: platinum blonde-silver. Gorgeous hair, I thought. She had a handsome face, and a lovely, regular figure, not too thin, not too thick.
The man, Xavier, also gave my hand a firm shake before telling me he was pleased to meet me. He was much older than Paulina; mid-fifties, early sixties was my guess. His short, dark hair was half-shot through with silver, giving him a distinguished look. He had refined features, a strong jaw that was reminiscent of Gibson’s, and an appealing crinkle in the corners of his eyes. He was taller than his wife, though not as tall as Gibson. He appeared fit and trim.
Separate or together, they were an attractive pair and had an aura of something about them, something I couldn’t place, but felt inside. An alertness, perhaps.
We took our seats. Xavier and Paulina pretended that they weren’t checking me over closely, but it was impossible to miss the way they studied me over their menus. I kept my eyes on my own menu and let them have their fill. Might as well get it over with.
Once we placed our orders and received our drinks, we made some light chitchat, talking about the usual things like work and how long everyone had known each other.
The more I looked at Xavier, the more I began to think I had seen him before. I couldn’t figure it out, though.
I finally gave in and said, “I’m sorry, Xavier, but you look so familiar to me and I can’t place you.”
Xavier smiled, his white teeth brilliant and even. “We’ve seen each other before. I was with Gibson the night you met.”
That was it. He was the older man who Gibson was chatting and drinking with at the bar. Good to know. Or bad to know, since he had been witness to my hook-up with Gibson that night.
I said, “Of course. I remember now.” I played with the napkin on my lap.
Gibson reached over and laid a warm hand over mine, gave a little squeeze. I shot him a small smile, then looked back down at my hands. Damn, I was a full-grown woman, with nothing to be ashamed of, so why the hell was I embarrassed all of a sudden. And shy. What was with that? Ridiculous.
Paulina said, “Nonnie, look at me.”
I glanced up at her, into her cool gray eyes. She didn’t say anything, nor did I. We simply looked at one another. Her lids narrowed infinitesimally, and I tensed, an electric jolt of something passing between us. I looked away immediately, back down to my napkin and Gibson’s hand.
Paulina said in her clear jewel of a voice, “Yes, I understand.”
Curiosity helped me find my voice. I looked up again. “Understand what?”
Paulina answered. “What these two saw in you that night.”
These ... two? I turned to Xavier, who was smiling benignly.
I asked, “What did you see?”
Xavier said in a way that implied I was missing the obvious, “That you’re a natural submissive.”
I knew Gibson had seen that in me, that Michael saw it, too. Now I learned that Xavier and Paulina had the fast track to see inside me as well. It had taken me my whole life to learn this about myself, but these people saw it in an instant. I was a little put out.
I said, “I see. Natural. As opposed to say, an unnatural submissive.”
Gibson laughed, a sound that put a warm curl in my stomach.
Xavier smiled wider and said, “I should have said that you’re someone who innately responds positively to dominant power, as opposed to someone who does not.”
I said to Xavier, “Are you a dominant?”
“What do you think?”
“That you are.”
“Why?”
“I guess I feel it.”
He said, “Then you understand. We feel these things in each other. It’s not one-sided.”
“Why haven’t I felt this my whole life? Why just in the past few months?”
He shook his head a little. “I couldn’t say. Perhaps you subconsciously denied it. Or perhaps it slept inside you, waiting for the right person to awaken it.”
I glanced over at Gibson, who looked at me with an intense expression. The right person. Was Gibson the right person?
I turned away, toward Paulina. I asked, “I felt something in you, too, just now. I don’t get it. I’m not into ... uh ... women that way.”
Paulina said, “You respond to the power, and that thing we don’t always understand that draws us to certain people and not to others.”
I said, “I don’t know. This is still new to me.”
She licked her full lips, nothing blatant, but there all the same. She said, “We know.”
Oh boy. I said, seeking distraction, “Okay, well, I hope I’m not prying here, but this has gone pretty personal, pretty damned quickly, so if I’m overstepping, you’ll have to forgive me. I don’t understand ... I mean, if you’re both dominants, and you’re married, how does that work?”
Paulina said, “I’m a switch.”
“Oh,” I said. I had
read about switches. They went both ways, top and bottom, dom and sub.
I had a million questions. But I didn’t get a chance to ask them because our food arrived.
While we sampled the assortment of dishes spread across the table, many of which I hadn’t tried before, we chatted about less personal topics.
I was comfortable with the married couple, and with Gibson, too. I was even enjoying the frisson of energy that sparked between myself and the others. I wondered at the nature of Gibson’s relationship with them. Was it more than just friendship? How much more?
I enjoyed the meal and the company and when I couldn’t eat another bite, I caught a glimpse of my watch and stiffened.
I said, “I’ve got to get back to work. We’ve been gone an hour and a half already.”
Paulina gave a small, warm laugh. “I don’t think your boss will mind you taking an extra long lunch break.” She made a graceful motion toward Gibson.
I said, “He’s not my boss. Not yet, anyway.”
Gibson said, “That’s true. But Isabel won’t be at Roundtree to miss you, will she?”
I grinned. “I’d think that, being a boss yourself, you wouldn’t be going around tempting other people’s employees into dereliction of duty.”
Xavier said, “I’m shocked. I’ve never known you to undermine someone else’s authority, Gibson.”
Paulina said, “Next thing we know, you’ll be growing your hair long, quoting Lenin and smoking weed.”
“No fair,” I said. “All three of us can’t gang up on him. Besides, I bet he’d make a hot hippie.”
The table fell silent. Gibson was looking at me with the tiniest of smiles, his dark eyes assessing me, while Paulina and Xavier gave me their own “we knew you liked him” looks.
Gibson took pity on my obvious discomfort and said, “I suppose we had better get you back.”
We stood up and said our farewells. I told the Martins that it was nice to meet them, and I definitely meant it. I liked them, even if they did have the bad manners to see through me too easily.
When Gibson and I were ensconced in his car once more, I asked, “Do you think they liked me?”
“Yes. They liked you. And you?”
