I exhaled shifting my purse from one shoulder to the other, trying to find another reason that made even the smallest semblance of sense. I was punishing Ryder Hanson. There was no doubt in my mind that he deserved every ounce of what I was dishing out, but he’d apologized. And it had been more than words. He’d given me the stage when he could have kept the lime light to himself.
I pushed my hair behind my ear and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I glared at him. “When did you want to do it? You know I’m super busy and I really don’t have time to – ”
“Tonight,” he interrupted. “It’s the weekend and we’ve had a long day. Dinner would be the perfect way to wind down and relax.”
I grimaced, thumbing my ear. “Where?” I demanded. “It has to be somewhere completely public. I am not willing to be alone with you.”
“Bistro Du Midi,” he responded. “I know that French cuisine is your favorite. It reminds you of home, doesn’t it?”
The reference to my home in Roussillon forced the tension in my body to dissipate. I smiled in nostalgic recollection.
“Well, I’ve never been one to turn down a bouillabaisse,” I relented. “And if you’re paying...”
“When have you ever incurred an expense on my watch?” he asked.
“Fiscal or emotional?” I asked, throwing a sarcastic look in his direction.
“Never mind,” he said pulling out his cell phone. A few seconds later, he was making reservations for two at Bistro Du Midi, a place my father had taken me to several times when I was a girl and we’d first arrived in the United States. Remembering the special times we’d shared before he died brought tears to my eyes. Maybe dinner wasn’t a good idea, I thought. I quickly swatted them away as Ryder hung up and turned to face me.
“Done,” he said.
“Ryder, I don’t know. Maybe I should just go home. It’s been a long day and all of a sudden I just want to be alone.”
“I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he said taking my hand in his. “And if you want to be alone after that, you won’t have to worry about me bothering you ever again.”
We stared at each other, a tense space suspended between us.
“Okay,” I agreed.
A yellow cab pulled up to the curb and Ryder opened the door. I entered, and he slid in next to me. The car pulled away from the curb, and I turned around to see the prestigious HA emblem posted at the top of the tall building, but I gasped when I saw the CEO staring out of the window down at the sidewalk, and his eyes were on me.
Chapter Three
Dylan
‘Crucial Factor’
Later that afternoon, after the students left, Max walked into the office balancing a stack of files in his arms, and I moved away from the window when I heard the door open.
“Files for Monday morning’s meeting, Dylan,” he said throwing them onto a side desk in my office.
I ran my hands through my hair and walked over to the table, glancing at the files, uninterested. I had seen them a million times and was well versed with the details. I slapped one closed before walking over to the mini-bar and pouring myself a Bourbon.
“You want one?” I asked holding up a crystal tumbler.
“Why not,” he said, falling onto the chaise. “I’m meeting the wife for dinner in an hour and a drink should get me in the right frame of mind.”
We both laughed knowing that it was best for an individual to be intoxicated when dealing with his wife. She was a nice lady, just not the easiest person to socialize with – even if she was your life-partner.
I handed Max the drink and walked back over to the window, clutching my own glass. “The view is amazing this time of day,” I muttered. “I’ve been here for almost ten years, and it still gets me every time.”
“You always say that when you’re stressed,” Max said, putting the glass against his mouth. “Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
I grunted but didn’t say anything.
Max peered at me over the edge of the glass. “How are things going with Emily?”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “They’re not, Max,” I said shaking my head. “Things are not going with Emily. In fact, I’m thinking about ending it.”
“I think you’re overreacting,” he said. “You’ve been with her for years.”
“And I’m thirty-seven, Max.”
“Precisely why you should be speeding things along. You’re not getting any younger and you do want kids, don’t you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I argued. “I’m thirty-seven and I don’t have time to waste on a relationship that’s not going anywhere. I’d much rather be single.”
“Dylan, you need to give the girl a fair shot,” Max advised leaning forward. “You should take her out sometimes. Spend a night on the town. It might remind you of why you’re in the relationship if you actually spend time with her.”
I let his words roll around in my mind. “Maybe,” I considered. “It’s just...” I exhaled. “I feel differently about her, Max. We’re not prom queen and king anymore. It’s not college, either. We have nothing in common. She’s overbearing, she nags, and all she wants to do is spend money.”
“All women want to spend money.”
“My money, Max. It’s not hers, it’s mine.” I sounded like a two-year-old.
We were silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The topic of my relationship status was depressing, and there were other things I wanted to focus on. My mind drifted to Laila Renaud...
“Anyway, enough about Emily,” I asserted pulling myself away from the window and walking back over to the bar. “What did you think about the students today?”
Max stood to his feet. “Brilliant,” he said, “especially that Ryder fellow. I must say, I believe we’ve made a good selection of an intern this year.”
“I agree.” I refilled my tumbler. “I look forward to using him and his ideas around the office.”
“His proposal was very impressive – and viable.”
“It’s something that we need to start looking at immediately. In fact, have Mandy call him on Monday and offer an early start. Normally, he wouldn’t have started for another month, but I want to put him to work. We don’t need to waste time on this.”
Max sat back down and pulled out his iPad.
I rubbed the back of my neck walking away from the bar and over to where he was sitting.
“What about Miss Renaud?” he asked without looking up.
I gulped down the beverage that was in my mouth and cringed at the heat burning my chest. “What about her?”
His head jerked up. “What do you mean, what about her? Dylan, the girl was spectacular.”
She was stunning.
“She’s hardly a girl, Max. She’s twenty-six.”
“You’re right,” he agreed, “but you’re both whippersnappers compared to my fifty.”
“You still haven’t answered the question,” I said redirecting the conversation. “What about her?”
“Didn’t you hear what Hanson said?” Max pressed me. “She was a crucial factor in the synthesis of the e-Insurance concept. Hell, Dylan, you could hear the hunger and passion in her voice; how articulately she verbalized the concept!”
I gnawed at the inside of my lip, trying to find an appropriate next sentence.
Max beat me to it. “Come on, Dylan. You were totally intrigued by her.”
My head jerked up. “What do you mean?”
“I saw it in your eyes,” he said. “As she was speaking you couldn’t take your eyes off her – nobody could.”
I cleared my throat and poured myself another drink. “She was definitely phenomenal,” I murmured. Then I sighed. “So, she was talented. What difference does that make? We’ve already chosen the intern.”
Max exhaled and set his iPad on the table. “How about we bring her on?”
“Bring her on?”
“Why not? Think of the possibilities. The two of them are dr
iven and fresh. They have original ideas.”
“Typically, we only take on one intern,” I reminded him. “That’s the way it’s been for years. We’re very cautious about who we invite behind the scenes. You know this, Max. You’ve been on the Board for years.”
“Typically, we do only take on one,” he agreed, “but this is different, Dylan. Laila Renaud could make significant contributions to the team. We could put her and Hanson together and task them with research.”
Silence.
Max threw his back against the chair and picked up his Scotch. “I say we bring her on.”
I stared at Max, considering the validity of his statement. He was right. He was always right, that’s why he was my advisor. Yet, a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach made me uneasy. Visions of Laila Renaud’s stunning face flashed into my mind: strong features and expressive brown eyes. The rich tone of her skin glowed as if she was supposed to be at the end of some rainbow. Her presence had transfixed me the minute I’d walked into the room and seen her sitting at the table. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
I downed the rest of my drink and pulled my blazer off the coat rack in the corner of the room.
“Where are you going?”
“Out,” I said shoving my arm into the sleeve. “I need to get out of the office for a bit.”
“Will you at least think about it?” he called before I disappeared.
I paused. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Chapter Four
Dylan
‘The Intern Is a Guy’
It was 8PM when my buddy Stefan and I were finally whipping through the lit-up city. The scene was ablaze with neon lights calling partygoers of all shapes and sizes. Lines of people looking for a good time snaked along the sidewalk.
I pulled my sleek, black Maybach up to the curb of LIV and jumped out. Throwing the keys at the valet, I adjusted my expensive jacket and ran my fingers through my hair.
“Oh, I know what time it is,” Stefan almost sang. “When the Maybach pulls up, it’s all eyes on you.” Stefan pointed to a group of scantily-clad females posing in the middle of the line, winking their faux lashes and pouting their red lips.
I rolled my eyes and grinned. “It might be that time for you,” I said. “I, on the other hand, am off the market. I couldn’t find the keys to the minivan this morning, so I took the Mercedes to work.”
Stefan laughed, punching my shoulder. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “You’re right about one thing. Those days are over...”
I forced a heated breath through my nose as we sidestepped the line and security opened the door, allowing us immediate entry. Inside, the blinding lights flashed, and the music pumped. Stefan and I were escorted to the Skybox and I immediately ordered a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.
“So, it’s been that kinda’ week, has it?” Stefan asked, slowly lifting the fluted glass to his lips.
“It’s been an interesting week,” I said.
Stefan served himself some of the caviar that had been set in front of us. He eyed me closely. “Do you wanna talk about it? Or do you want me to ignore that sour look on your face and tell you about my day? Because the way it seems, my day was a hell of a lot better than yours was.”
“It’s the same old thing,” I said tugging at the open collar of my shirt. “Emily, work...”
“So, it’s not getting any better?”
“That must be a rhetorical question,” I grunted. “Emily and I – we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. We’re not even on the same page and I wonder how I’m supposed to justify being with someone like her. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Well, you know how I feel about it,” he said shoving caviar into his mouth. Some of it dripped into his long, black beard.
“I’m very aware,” I said as I threw him a napkin. “You’ve only been telling me I was making a mistake since undergrad.”
“Exactly,” he agreed, “so you need to take my advice and end it before it goes any further and then she starts talking about marriage and kids.” Stefan and I shuddered at the same time.
I looked down at the buzzing floor below and noticed a group of attractive women. It took less than a second for my thoughts to flow to Laila Renaud.
She had been spectacular today. I was so impressed by her presentation – the way she spoke, the way her hands moved – I’d moved on to the next student, realizing that if I focused on her for too long, the lascivious writing of my mind would have been plastered across the walls of the boardroom. What was more, I’d deliberately assigned her to work with another colleague for fear that what was an apparent spark would transform into a full-out flame if she was anywhere near me.
Now I was thinking about her again and I couldn’t get her out of my head.
My mouth twitched. “There’s an intern,” I blurted out.
Stefan put a final serving of caviar into his mouth and leaned back in his seat. His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
I scrubbed my hot neck. “Well, she’s not really an intern,” I said. “The intern is a guy. Ryder Hanson. He’s going to be a superstar. He has loads of potential.”
“Right, I remember we talked about him a few months ago,” Stefan recalled, “and at that time he was a he. So who is this she and why is she important?”
I sighed and stretched my arms over my head. “Max thinks we should bring her on. She is equally as amazing and would be a total asset to the team.”
Stefan shrugged. “So what’s the issue? Bring her on.”
“The issue is that we only take one intern a year. It’s protocol.”
His eyes narrowed further, until they were almost slits. “Okay, so the last time I checked, the sign on the door said Hamilton Associates.” He paused dramatically. “And the last time I checked, your last name was Hamilton. You’re the boss of the bosses. It’s an easy fix.”
“No, it’s not.”
“So what’s the real issue?” Suddenly, Stefan leaned in and cocked his head to the side. “Wait a minute,” he said. He pointed into my face and then fell back laughing, holding his abs.
“What the hell is your problem?” I asked looking around.
“Wait a minute,” he pleaded, waving both his hands. He wiped real tears from his eyes.
I crossed my arms and waited for Stefan’s merriment to abate.
When he finally settled, he leaned forward and peered into my face. “This intern, she’s hot, isn’t she?”
My jaw flexed, and I grabbed my champagne.
“That’s what this is all about. You didn’t have a bad day at work. Your day was good as hell!”
I dropped the glass onto the table and leaned in. “Stef, the woman is hotter than an oven on goddamn broil,” I said. “She’s hotter than your brother’s fake Rolexes.”
He pointed at me grinning. “Too far with that one,” he said, and we both laughed. The relief that followed was therapeutic. I’d been holding it in for hours.
I sat back running my hands over my face. “Stef, I walked into the boardroom and she was just sitting there, you know? Everything about her enslaved me.”
“Damn, bro,” Stefan said shaking his afro. “You’ve had access to some of the finest women in Miami. This girl must be hella sexy if she has you here drooling like this.” He handed me a napkin.
I slapped it away and laughed. “Sexy is an understatement,” I clarified. “Her skin was this ochre color, like the finest of chocolates, Stef...”
“Ochre?” Stefan slapped his thigh. “Damn, Dyl, I don’t even know what ochre looks like. I thought it was a bloody vegetable!”
“And her eyes were this shade of terracotta...”
“Wow...”
“Yeah,” I agreed, consumed by the vision I had recreated. “But it was more than that, Stef. She had passion. She had vision and concepts. She had something to say.” My mouth bunched. “Do you know how much I miss that? Having intelligent, stimulating conversation with a woman? The girl was sexy,
but it was so much more than that...”
We both sat in silence.
Stefan stared at me and then his posture relaxed.
“So...” he paused, perhaps looking for the right words to say. “What are you gonna’ do? You can’t deny this girl an opportunity to shine.”
“And I can’t take her on,” I argued. “It wouldn’t work.”
“Dylan,” he said, “you can override that protocol. Who said you can’t have two interns?”
“It has nothing to do with that, Stef,” I responded. “It’s me. I can’t be around her. I would end up cheating on Emily – I know I would and I promised myself I would never be that person.”
Stefan hissed his teeth and picked up his champagne. “You won’t cheat on Emily because you’re going to break up with her, remember?”
“You’re making it sound so simple.”
“It is simple, Dylan. Emily is not the woman who’s going to make you happy. We both know this.”
I sighed, still not fully convinced.
Stefan shook his head. “Fine, I’ll leave you to handle that in your own time. But regarding the intern – the one who’s a she – understand that we’re only considering one side of the scenario.”
“What do you mean?”
“If this girl is as professional and as fabulous as you say she is, how do you know she’ll even give you the time of day?”
My jaw flexed.
“Students are very aware of the risks associated with sleeping with the boss. Why would she jeopardize her professional future over something so frivolous?”
I picked up my beverage feeling my pride smart. “You’re right,” I agreed. “She certainly doesn’t seem to be that kind of girl, but there are some women who are not concerned about those risks.”
Oui: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 1) Page 3
