Daddy's Virgin

by Claire Adams

  "Tasha, I'm sorry, I have to take this," Stan said. "Just remember, it's all for the best."

  I knocked back the rest of my drink and wondered why the best felt like the absolute worst.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rainer

  Tasha's eyes met mine down the office hallway, and I felt a jolt through my entire body. She looked as if she had something to say, something that couldn't wait, something that might touch on the lava flow I felt when her eyes were on me. Then Stan bustled her off to the executive elevator and my stomach dropped to the floor.

  What if our yacht liaison had been found out?

  It wasn't much a stretch to think someone at Berger's party had found the entertainment boring and the gossip much more interesting. We could have been spotted heading down that narrow hallway. Or maybe the bartenders had heard us over the thumping of the music.

  Stan had frowned in my direction, and I felt sure he was advising Tasha against me. Probably good advice, but it put me on edge. There was already so much between us that caused problems: her career focus, my lack of proper ambition, my last-minute attachment to her billion-dollar project, not to mention our passionate run-ins or my intruding ex-girlfriend. The last thing I needed was our boss and mentor telling Tasha exactly why she should stay far, far away from me.

  I was so busy searching for counter-arguments that it took a moment to see the steady stream of junior executives heading for the elevator. By the time I unstuck myself from the doorway of my office, the elevator doors had shut. Seemed like everyone was heading upstairs to the executive floor. I turned to the stairwell and took the steps two at a time. It still didn't burn off my agitation.

  What was Tasha talking to Stan about? Would she listen if he told her to leave me behind and never think of me again?

  On the penthouse floor, I found the rest of the junior executives skulking around the conference room across from Stan's office.

  "There you are, glad you could join the party," one of the junior executives said.

  Berger slapped me on the shoulder. "Hopefully, he's more fun than he was on the yacht. Man, you were so serious. And here we all thought you had so much to celebrate."

  I clenched my jaw and hoped he didn't bring up Ellison. No matter how much I protested, people still wanted to believe that we were going to get married.

  "Maybe it's a side effect of working with Tasha too long. He's been iced!" Berger laughed at his own joke, and the rest of the junior executives joined him.

  "You boys just hanging out in here to gossip or what?" I asked.

  A few men shook their heads, but Berger answered for them. "There are rumors of rumors floating around, and we're waiting to find out what's real and what's not."

  "What kind of rumors?" My neck felt stiff and my shoulders rock hard.

  "Some kind of merger or deal that has to do with the whole company," Berger said.

  My shoulders loosened one notch. It wasn't about Tasha and I. "There are always rumors like that. Comes with the territory when you work for a successful company," I said.

  "But, when your company just made billions of dollars, the rumors start getting real. I mean, I can count on both hands the number of companies just dying to buy us or become part of our branding," Berger said.

  I stared at Stan's office door and hoped that was what he was discussing with Tasha. As I wished I could bore through the thick double doors, a wave of beeps and chimes swept through the conference room.

  An official message was received by every employee notifying us that Hyperion had been sold to a major local conglomerate. As I read between the lines, I got the uncomfortable feeling that I knew who headed up the sale: Ellison's father. The new owner was not named, but there were too many hints to ignore.

  A burst of chatter erupted in the conference room, and I was glad for the din to drown out my suspicions. It let me feel a wild sense of freedom. Hyperion was sold, most employees would be let go, and I was done. I had made my billions, thanks to Tasha, and now I could be free. My family couldn't argue that I'd quit and my fat bank account meant that I didn't have to play their competitive games anymore.

  I'd won, and the game was over.

  There was anger, worry, and celebrations going on all around me, so I squeezed out of the conference room and ran right into Otto. The head of security stationed himself a subtle distance from Stan's office but was obviously there to check the long line of employees who would have questions.

  "Looking at a busy day, huh?" I asked Otto.

  He smiled and hooked his thumbs in his utility belt. "Maybe I'm just waiting to see our girl."

  I felt a twist in my chest. "Wanna lay some bets on what they're talking about?" I asked.

  Otto chuckled. "Son, I can tell when someone is trying to get gossip out of me."

  I held up my hands. "Not me. I'm just saying that I bet you one hundred bucks the big boss has a new venture and he is trying to convince his protege to go along. It just makes sense."

  Otto studied me for a moment. "You're right; it does make sense. But what about you? Not going to be seeing much of Ms. Nichols anymore."

  I nodded. "You'll miss her too."

  "So, you're okay with walking away from all of this? And her?" Otto asked.

  "As if I have a say in any of it. All I know is I can't complain. I made my money, and now I have the perfect excuse to run off and enjoy it," I said.

  Otto shook his head. "You're not going far. You're waiting here to see where she's going."

  "No," I said, more to convince myself. "I'm happy for her if it's what she wants."

  "The minute a man thinks he knows what a woman wants, he's in trouble," Otto said. Voices raised to shouting in the conference room and Otto excused himself to check it out.

  Berger slipped by him and came over to whack me on the back again. "Couldn't have orchestrated this whole thing better if you'd tried," he said.

  "You don't seem too upset by the whole thing," I said. In the conference room, Otto was directing the junior executives to sit down and calm down.

  Berger shrugged. "I could use a vacation. See if that yacht's sea-worthy."

  "So, that's it? You're done working?" I asked.

  "Come on, tell me that wasn't what you had in mind. I mean, you jumped on Tasha's project at the last minute, made billions, and now your job is gone, leaving you free to enjoy your fortune. Tell me you didn't plan that." Berger blocked my path.

  "How could I have planned it?" I asked. "I'm not the one with the big boss' ear."

  Berger glanced towards Stan's office. "You're right, but I know that Tasha didn't see this coming. She doesn't have much of a poker face."

  I smiled at that, hoping Tasha's tells would help me in the future. "Well, I might be a good gambler, but I didn't know any of this was coming."

  "Doesn't stop you from being the big winner, I guess." Berger laughed but didn't move. "So, what do you have planned next?"

  "You mean for the next five minutes? Because I just found out about all this. How would I already have a plan?" I glanced at Stan's door, but it was still closed. "I'm here to get all the details and find out what other people think first."

  Berger snorted. "Or you're waiting for your lady luck to make the first move."

  That off-handed comment hit home. I had been waiting for Tasha to make the first move, some hint that she hadn't gotten me out of her system. I forced myself to shrug it off, but I couldn't take my eyes off Stan's office door.

  "That's all in the past. There's a big, wide open future ahead now," I said. "Maybe I'll start my own business."

  The idea fell flat because as I said it, I hated the idea of being busy without seeing Tasha. She was the one with the business brain and all the organization. I imagined she'd already outlined an entire plan for herself and would come out of Stan's office with a whole new life ahead of her. One I would not be part of.

  "Well, I think before I take that big boat to sea, I'm going to head up to wine country and in
vest in some choice vintages," Berger said. "Of course, it would make more sense to go to France first and really refine my pallet before facing those cowboy vintners in Napa."

  "Need the right supplies for your sea voyage?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Berger laughed. "Exactly. I should probably cruise the top restaurants from here to New York and see if I can't poach the perfect personal chef too. Whaddya say? Dinner at French Laundry?"

  I checked my watch. "I guess there's still time for you to buy a private plane. Or does your yacht have a helicopter pad?"

  "Remember the stage? That's a helicopter pad." Berger eyed me. "Though I didn't see much of you during the show. Where'd you go?"

  "I was taste-testing your rye collection. Sadly lacking," I told him.

  "Well, let's see you compete." Berger's hands broke free and waved around as he got excited. "You know, my yacht is like a floating mansion. You should get one, and we can cruise the world. Just think of the parties we could have. With both of us, we could take over entire islands."

  "Running off to play pirates?" I asked. The idea held no appeal whatsoever. "I guess I can't nitpick. At least you have a plan."

  Another sweep of phone alerts rattled across the executive floor. I was one of the first to whip out my phone and check the news. As soon as I saw the headline, I cringed. The Ramsey Foundation, headed by Ellison's tour-de-force father, had just announced plans to start a public relations consulting firm based in San Francisco.

  Berger chuckled as he skimmed the article. "Looks like you had a plan all along. Maybe you didn't come up with it, but you're definitely set for life. Lucky bastard."

  "What do you mean?" I asked, feigning innocence.

  "Looks like your soon-to-be father-in-law has set you up to be a respectable businessman. Can't complain about that, Rainer. You're getting handed your very own firm." Berger bit his lip and tried not to be jealous.

  I hoped the announcement would have another meaning, but it didn't seem likely. The glances I was getting from the other junior executives showed they had come to the same conclusion. Ellison and her all-powerful family were pulling all the strings to get their darling daughter exactly what she wanted. Me, on a silver platter.

  "I'm not engaged," I said, but there wasn't much fight in my words. Tasha was still meeting with Stan. It was all over.

  "Well, while you keep telling yourself that lie, the rest of us have been marking our calendars. Rumor has it that Ellison wants an autumn wedding. You'll be married before Halloween," Berger said.

  I stifled a groan. "No one should be planning my wedding except me," I said.

  "So, you admit it; marriage is on the horizon?" Berger asked.

  "No. That's the opposite of what I meant." I shifted to get around Berger before I lost my temper. "I'm not going to be railroaded into anything. Not a new job or a marriage or even dinner at French Laundry."

  Berger held up his hands and laughed. "Good luck with that," he said. "I'll take a raincheck on dinner, but I'm for sure putting my money on September. That's right, there's a betting pool on your high-society wedding, and I'm going to win it. Gotta keep that yacht afloat!"

  I refrained from punching my friend and now former-colleague. Instead, I hit the stairwell and headed back to my office. All I wanted was to see Tasha, but it was doubtful she'd ever come to my office again. I slammed the door.

  "Mr. Maxwell?" a faint voice called through the door.

  I tore it back open. "I'm so sorry, Topher," I told my assistant. "You probably have a few questions."

  My eager assistant was unfazed by the business upset. He came into my office with a clipboard and his resume all printed out and ready to go. "I don't want to bother you, just offer my application for any of your future endeavors."

  I shook my head. "Sorry, Topher, but I'm not the one you should be talking to. Though, now that I think about it, I have the perfect person to give your resume to."

  He looked hopeful. "Would you maybe be willing to write me a recommendation too?"

  I shook his hand and agreed on the spot. If Tasha took Topher on as an assistant, she would be well-supported, he would be happy, and I would have a way to check in on her. It was a selfish, ridiculous idea, but it was the first good one I'd had since hearing the news.

  "What about you, Mr. Maxwell? Do you have plans now that Hyperion is closing its doors?" Topher asked.

  I scrubbed both hands over my face. "No. I'm a little blindsided at the moment. But, don't worry, something will come up. And, no, it's not going to an autumn wedding."

  Topher shook his head vehemently. "I've tried to stop the rumors, but no one believes me."

  "Tell me about it." I laughed. "Wait, so you believe that I'm not marrying Ellison Ramsey? You might be the only one. What makes you so sure when everyone else is betting on the wedding date?"

  Topher smoothed down his tie. "I know that you are not engaged to Ms. Ramsey because you haven't sent me ring shopping."

  "Maybe the ring is a family heirloom," I said.

  My assistant scoffed. "It would still have to be sized. And I haven't so much as ordered flowers for Ms. Ramsey."

  I shook his hand again. "Topher, you are the best assistant a man could have. Tasha will be lucky to have you."

  "Ms. Nichols? You're recommending me to Ms. Nichols?" Topher's voice bumped up an octave out of excitement. "Thank you, sir. Thank you!"

  I waved off his gratitude and slumped into my desk chair. "She deserves the support, and you deserve the chance. If I can make that happen, I'll be happy."

  Topher hesitated in my office door. "So, you won't be joining Ms. Nichols in her next venture?"

  "Too soon," I said. "I haven't even gotten a chance to speak with her. By the way, if you see Ms. Nichols, will you ask if we can meet?"

  It was a silly, high school tactic, but I knew it would work. My assistant was even more eager to please now that his career path had an exciting direction. He left at once to write his recommendation letter so all I had to do was sign it. Ever the helpful and considerate assistant. I made a note to send him to my tailor and get him outfitted for his new venture.

  Whatever it might be.

  After Topher shut the door, I settled back in my desk chair and tried to clear my thoughts. Here I had the opportunity, and the money, to do whatever I wanted but my brain was a blank. I liked my job, the wining and dining and salesmanship and spin. I liked having a purpose when I woke up in the morning. I thought of my big, new house, still empty after I fended off Ellison's interior design crew, and shuddered. If I didn't come up with something and quick, I'd be rattling around that mausoleum and going crazy.

  In my panic, all I could think to do was channel what Tasha's next step would be. I fumbled in my desk drawers and finally found a pad of paper and a working pen. She would write a list and probably annotate the damned thing, but all I did was stare at the blank page.

  I had no idea what I wanted. Without Tasha in the picture, there didn't seem to be anything I did want.

  So, I started to jot down all the things I didn't want. Starting with a big, splashy wedding.

  It was a huge relief when there was a knock on my office door. "Come in," I called. It was most likely just Topher, but my heart bumped at the thought of seeing Tasha.

  Stan strode in and shut the door behind him. Surprise launched me out of my desk chair and I came around to shake his hand. "Congratulations on the deal of the year," I said. "I haven't read all the details, but I'm sure you made the Hyperion shareholders proud."

  Stan shook my hand then waved me back to my desk chair. "You don't sound too upset. That's good."

  "I'm sure some people are having a little trouble with the sudden change in direction, but I'm good. I'll adapt," I said.

  "So, you're not scrambling to find a new position?" Stan asked.

  I laughed. "Because of Hyperion, I have the money to take a vacation. And now the time."

  "Good," Stan said. "Take your time. Very wise. I to
ld her you'd want some space."

  My suspicions rose. "Why? Is there an offer on the table I was unaware of?"

  Stan frowned at his own slip-up. "I'm sure the entire office has already guessed that Tasha and I will be collaborating on a new company. She fought for you to be included, but I said no. I figured you'd want to enjoy your time and money."

  "So, Tasha took your offer?"

  "Does that matter to you?" Stan asked.

  I slumped back in my office chair. "Of course it does. I want her to be happy."

  Stan paused and studied me. "You're a good man, Rainer. I didn't always see that, but it's true. I wish you all the luck in the future."

  "Thanks," I said, wondering what else the old man wasn't saying.

  Stan gave me a salute and opened my office door. Topher practically fell in and stumbled over at least fifty apologies to the executive. Stan clapped him on the back and went out into the din of the upset office.

  "An invitation arrived for you," Topher said. "I thought it might be a nice distraction."

  I looked at my blank pad of paper and laughed. "Good instincts as always. I hope you put that in the recommendation letter."

  "Will do, sir. By the way, I tried to reach Ms. Nichols, but she is gone for the day."

  Topher dropped the heavy envelope on my desk and practically skipped back to his desk to continue his letter. I waited until I could hear his fleet fingers on his keyboard, and then I reached for the invitation.

  The paper was fine linen and embossed with a compass design. Inside the invitation only gave a restaurant and a time. I wondered if the compass signified the new direction everyone was looking for. Was it for an office farewell party? There was no signature or indication of who sent it.

  I dismissed the idea of an office party as my phone and email exploded with invites to such get-togethers. This was different. Tasha was already gone for the day, and as I left Hyperion, I had the wild idea she wanted to see me again. Maybe this was her subtle and elegant way of meeting me outside of work.

  The idea compounded when I drove up to the restaurant at the appointed time. It had a beautiful view of the San Francisco Bay and the city where we'd planted the community garden was framed perfectly on the opposite shore. I was sure it was Tasha, setting up a better date than I ever could. I wondered for a moment if Topher hadn't been in on the whole thing. I knew they'd make a great team.