The Boardroom: Cassidy (The Billionaires of Torver Corporation Book 3)

by A. J. Wynter

  “Redhead, but close.”

  Kirk rolled his eyes at me as I dug my keys out from behind a couch cushion. Girls tended to know what to expect from Kirk and I when they saw us coming down the street. Kirk was the boyfriend, the good guy, the one who walks your dog for you and helps your mom chop vegetables when you bring him home for dinner. At five feet nine, with deep cocoa skin set off by square glasses, he looked like the kind of guy who would help you with a computer problem at Starbucks. And occasionally for that, I envied him.

  Girls knew straight away that I was trouble.

  We opened the door to find a gorgeous autumn morning dotted with clouds, typical for this time of year in Seattle. I yanked open the passenger door of Kirk’s Jaguar and threw myself into the passenger seat. Our carpool routine was no longer really necessary now that the company had made it big, but it had become an unbreakable habit. It was comforting to have someone next to me as I entered the workday, and it made me feel as if I wasn’t so alone going into it.

  “So,” Kirk said. “What podcast is it today?”

  I pulled out my phone and grimaced when I looked at the battery bar. “Sorry man,” I said. “I forgot to charge my phone last night.”

  “It’s cool,” Kirk said. “Let’s just talk, we haven’t really done that in a while.”

  I tried not to make my groan audible. Kirk and I had a somewhat sacred routine of listening to business podcasts on the way to work…which, as much as I love the guy, served as an excellent way to shut him up. He had a tendency to try and play therapist with me.

  “So, tell me about the girl from last night,” Kirk said, which I knew was a trap.

  “Well, her name was Sarah, and she works in publishing, and she has a dog named…Snoopy.”

  “You’re making that up. You couldn’t pick that girl out from a line-up.”

  I leaned my head against the car door. He was right. “It was a one night stand. It doesn’t matter.”

  Kirk gave me his best serious face as we drove into the city. “No, but your quality of life does. It does to me, and it should to you too, man.”

  Here we go.

  “Johnathan, you’re not happy. I can tell. I know the Torver Group is doing great, but money and success aren’t gonna keep you forever. In a few years you’ll be forty, and maybe it’s time to you know…start dating seriously. Think about settling down.”

  “I’m not sad, Kirk.”

  “You spend all your weekends hanging out with Cassidy. That’s sad.”

  “I’m too busy for anything more than occasional sex. I mean, please, Kirk, you’ve been trying all that romantic shit for ages and how far has it gotten you? Alone with your Xbox every Valentine’s Day?”

  Kirk shot me a look as I froze and realized what I had said. “Sorry, man, sorry, that was harsh. I…I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, turning into the parking garage. “But I’m gonna find you a really nice girl, and you’re going to give it a shot.”

  I sighed as I ran my hand over the mess of dark blond stubble left on my chin. “You and I both know nice girls don’t date guys like me, and that most of them bore me to death with their quinoa, and nail treatments, and rom-coms, and—”

  “Open. Mind.” Kirk said, and we hopped out of his car and made our way up to the building. I sighed in relief and hoped this particular topic of conversation wouldn’t resurface on the drive home as well.

  The Torver Group, Seattle’s top-rated investment company (started by yours truly), was located on the top floor of our office building, giving us uncontestable views of the glimmering Seattle Harbor. It was the kind of office I never took for granted, especially after those hellish days I spent using my parent’s shed as office space. I had to admit I still harbored a bit of shameful nostalgia for the easy openness of my professional beginnings though. When the Torver Group was starting out, the possibilities seemed to stretch on forever. After months and months of hard work, it seemed that things could only go up, and then we got a lot of lucky breaks. Sometimes in our shiny new office building, with its touch-screen elevator and Swiss coffee-maker, I felt nostalgic for the days when I would crank up a space heater in my parent’s shed, a TV dinner in hand as I worked.

  “So,” Kirk said cautiously as the elevator made its slow climb up. “Since you weren’t actually prepping for the meeting last night, how much do you actually know about this company we’re acquiring?”

  “The Wordsworth Company,” I muttered robotically. I was still a little pissed at Kirk for his interrogation in the car. “An investment company originally based in Portland. They get saved from bankruptcy, we get their clients. Negotiations should be easy.”

  “Easy?”

  “They’re a dinky little company compared to us. We got the upper hand here.”

  “And what do you know about their CEO?” Kirk asked, and I tried my best not to roll my eyes at him again.

  “I did my research. Some guy named Sam Doyle.”

  “…And? What’s his story?”

  “It wasn’t thorough research.”

  The doors opened up to our office, which always looked strange to me in the soft light of the early morning. I had designed the place to be stately and modernist, but it looked like it could double as a high-end nightclub. A massive fish tank stood at the entrance, looking out over neatly tiled floors and deep gray walls adorned with abstract art in primary colors. A waiting area with a coffee machine, high-backed cream chairs, and copies of Vogue and The Wall Street Journal sat in the corner. Everyone, with the exception of myself, had the refreshed look of coming off a relaxing weekend. Sabryna, my assistant, was sitting at her desk with her usual morning cup of earl grey. I could already tell from her face that she sensed my panic.

  “Out with Cassidy again?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

  “I’m pleading the fifth on that one.”

  “Mmm-hm.” Sabryna stared into her mug of tea.

  “Are they here yet?” I whispered, and Sabryna continued sipping her tea with resolute calm.

  “Not yet, but they will be any minute,” she winked. “Conference room is all set up. Coffee, danishes, the whole deal.”

  “Phew,” I said. “Sabryna, you’re an angel. Literally.” I ran into my office as she responded with the well-tired look she often gave me which seemed to say, if I’m such an angel, where’s my raise, Torver?

  I rifled through the organized chaos of my desk to find what I would need for the meeting. It should be straightforward, this acquisition. We would get Wordsworth’s clients, and we would lay out our rules for them, dictate our terms. The Wordsworth Company was quickly going bankrupt, and I couldn’t help but feel a shameful sense of pride at getting to be the one to swoop in and save them. Despite a shaky morning, the rest of the day should run smoothly. I would walk out of the building today with a newly expanded client base and a new batch of grateful employees ready to bow at my feet.

  I walked into the conference room and put my things down at the head of the table. Our conference room was impressive, with a long mahogany table and unparalleled views of the sun-streaked waters of the Seattle harbor. I spotted the tray of pastries that Sabryna had placed at the center of the table. It included bear claws, palmiers, and frankly, some of the largest powdered doughnuts I had ever laid eyes on. It was generally against office etiquette, tragically, to snack on the provided food during such an important meeting, but I figured I could sneak in a doughnut before the rest of the office got here.

  I snapped up a large powdered doughnut and quickly bit off half of it, and tried my best to keep it from falling out of my mouth. I looked out over the Seattle skyscrapers and tried to chew as fast as I could.

  It was then that I had the unsettling feeling that there was someone standing behind me.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where Johnathan Torver is, would you?”

  I jumped back in surprise to see a woman staring at me impatiently. She was half a foot shor
ter than me, with porcelain skin and dark brown hair coiled into a tight chignon.

  “Oh! Um, uh—” I mumbled as bits of doughnut tumbled out of my mouth, the white powder cascading down the front of my suit. “That would be me. Johnathan Torver. CEO of the Torver Group.” I held out my hand to the woman and promptly pulled it back after noticing the white powder covering my fingers.

  “The CEO of the Torver Group starts meetings with his hands covered in doughnut powder?” the woman asked, without even so much as a hint of mirth.

  “I’m afraid so,” I said with a laugh, trying to settle back into my usual confidence. This woman was making it difficult. Her dark brown eyes never left me for a second, as if she was only waiting for me to make another false move. “And you are?” I asked.

  “Samantha Doyle,” she said, and took another shameful look down at my powdered hands. “And I suppose a proper handshake is out of the question.”

  “You’re Sam Doyle?”

  “Not used to female CEOs?”

  “No, I am, I just thought, I was just picturing, you know…”

  “It’s fine,” she said. “To my friends, I’m Sam, but in business, I’m Samantha.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Um, I—”

  I suddenly realized I couldn’t quite get the words out of my mouth. There was something unusual about the way she looked at me. I realized that I had never really had a woman look at me in such a…belligerent way. I was so used to women laughing at all my awful jokes, throwing me compliments, or laying a stray hand on my arm. But this woman…she wanted war.

  I realized I was still staring at the floor dumbstruck when the door creaked open and Kirk walked in.

  “Morning,” he said, and pretended to look through his briefcase with the bashful look of someone who feels like they just interrupted something.

  The rest of the Torver Group filed in on one side of the table, and the people representing Wordsworth took their seats next to Samantha. There was a feeling of tension in the air, and even the way Samantha sat was beginning to intimidate me, and admittedly, intrigue me. It reminded me of old portraits of queens in history books. It was only now that I noticed that she was actually quite an attractive woman. I could imagine her outside of her job, with her hair falling down her shoulders over a sweater and a pair of jeans, and the idea made her feel a little bit less intimidating.

  I didn’t like that I kept forgetting that I was the one in charge here. I had the upper hand! This meeting was about me laying down my terms, so why was--

  “May we begin?” Samantha said, and I jumped in my seat.

  “Long night, huh?” Cassidy said, and winked. Samantha and her colleagues turned to me with a questioning and disappointed look. I was going to kill him.

  “Up late preparing,” I said, swiftly taking back my authority, and I could have sworn I heard Kirk hold back a chuckle. “Anyways, Kirk has the documents pertaining to the legal aspects of the acquisition, and I, of course, have my own terms for how both of us will successfully make the transition.” I smiled up at Samantha, who met my eyes with a piercing stare.

  “Mr. Torver,” she said. “I hope you’re open to treating this meeting as a negotiation, and not a lecture.”

  I shuffled my papers in my hands and looked up at her with amused disbelief. “If you like, but it’s a bit difficult when you don’t have anything to negotiate.” I smiled smugly towards Samantha’s frown. “We saved you from going under, remember? We’re here to tell you how we do things here at the Torver Group.” I smiled at her with a facetious grin. “Unless you want me to take our offer back?”

  Samantha and I both suddenly looked up at the whole table staring at us wide-eyed.

  “Of course not,” she said. “Let’s continue.”

  The meeting rolled on for another hour, another hour of tense stares, sweaty palms, and passive-aggressive comments. It seemed endless. And the real shame of it was, it would have been so easy if it hadn’t been for Samantha and her war-mongering. When all of the necessary topics had been discussed, both groups of employees filed out of the room slowly, leaving only Samantha and I seated at the end of the table. An uncomfortable silence suddenly settled upon the room.

  “I’m gonna go to the break room and get some coffee,” I said as quickly as possible, shooting up out of my chair towards the door like a kid desperate to get out of class.

  “Hey,” Samantha said sharply, and I froze, removing my hand from the doorknob to find her facing me. “I didn’t appreciate that.”

  “Appreciate what?”

  “What went down there. You embarrassed me in front of my employees.”

  I scoffed. “Embarrassed? Embarrassed you how?”

  Samantha shook her head in disbelief. “Oh please, that patronizing attitude of yours, ‘you don’t have anything to negotiate’, I mean, what was that?”

  I sighed and tried to reason with her. “Look, Samantha, you know how these acquisitions work. The power is just not in your hands anymore.”

  “Your daddy buy you that sanctimonious attitude too, huh?”

  “Woah. Hey,” I shouted, gripping the office table with my hands. “I built this company from the ground up. I didn’t start out with money, okay? I made every penny myself.”

  Samantha looked down, and I may have even sensed a bit of shame in her. “Look sorry, you just have this, I don’t know, careless rich boy attitude and I guess I made some assumptions. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t forgotten your behavior at the meeting today.”

  I sighed. “Look, Sam.”

  “Samantha. You call me Samantha.”

  “We have to get along if we want this acquisition to work for both of us, okay? And clearly the Wordsworth Company meant a lot to you. I get that.”

  “Of course,” Samantha said, and smiled up at me weakly. She walked out of the conference room without so much as a look behind her.

  I threw myself back down in a chair and tossed a crumpled ball of paper in the trash can across the room, only to have it bounce off the edge on to the ground. “Careless rich boy attitude. Psh,” I muttered. This would be a long and painful process.

  End of Excerpt.

  The Billionaires of Torver Corporation, Book 1

  The Boardroom: Johnathan

  Now Available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

  Sorority Secrets, Book 1

  Date with a Biker (Excerpt)

  Chapter One

  Sarah walked up the front steps of the sorority house and smiled. She thought back to when she had been an idealistic freshman and was very anti-sorority. When she'd first come to college she was dead set against the entire concept. She found sororities to be outdated institutions that separated women, instead of creating bonds between them. Not to mention, there were a lot of horror stories floating around about hazing. She knew for damn sure she wasn’t parading around campus in ridiculous outfits and being demeaned by the seniors. Was it so crazy that she didn't want someone screaming at her and beating her with paddles? Or, forcing her to clean up the house on her hands and knees in her underwear after a kegger? Those were standard procedures over at Alpha Kappa Alpha. Yes, a sorority had seemed like an archaic, misogynistic institution that an academic like herself should stay far, far away from. And then, she met the girls from Pi Omega Tal.

  Pi Omega Tal weren't like the other sororities. First of all, there was absolutely no hazing; it was written into their charter. And secondly, they valued academics over partying - requiring all of their members to maintain a minimum of a 2.7 GPA. Which didn't necessarily make them rocket scientists, but it did mean they actually had to try in school.

  This is what had given Sarah her ‘in’. She was at the university to get her engineering degree and her grades were top notch. Academia had come easily and effortlessly to her all of her life, getting straight A’s was a cakewalk for her. The more traditional sororities would’ve turned her away as she was a plain girl with brown eyes, fair skin, and a smattering of freckles across her no
se. She had average build and she carried the bulk of her excess weight around her thighs. She was totally comfortable with her body. She could look a little nerdy sometimes, with her long brown hair that she always bundled on the top of her head in a loose bun and her grandma’s horn-rimmed glasses (with modern day lenses). She definitely wasn’t a stereotypical sorority bimbo. The selection committee had voted her in on her academic merit, although she had heard through the rumor mill that her breasts (she had been gifted with gorgeous, round, natural D-cups) had tipped the scale in her favor so to speak.

  The sorority girls lived in a old big house, one that was listed as a historical landmark. Sure, they had parties and alliances with other sororities, but theirs was a supportive environment. They weren't all about the drama and that was something that meant a lot to Sarah.

  Now three years later, Sarah was a junior, and looking back she couldn't be any more pleased with her experience with Pi Omega Tal. To an outside observer, the girls at Pi had it all: beauty, brains, camaraderie, and guys from Sigma Ki, the hottest on campus, after them. If a guy from Sigma could bag a Pi Omega Tal girl, he got serious cred in the frat, making the girls a very hot commodity. Now, commodity is the key word here, because that's how the guys over at Sigma treated the sisters, and it didn't get them very far. In fact, Sarah and the rest of her sisters were sick of the same old guys that were always showing up to all the same parties.

  Were these guys chiseled and good looking? Yes. And, the girls from POT were not angels, so there had been relations between members of the two organizations. However, these frat boys were not good enough in the bedroom for a second round. Sure, maybe there were exceptions here and there when it came to certain guys and certain sisters, but as a whole, all of Pi Omega Tal were bored and ready for a change.

  The president, Elizabeth, had tasked Sarah with figuring out how they were going to fix the situation. It had reached the point where the lack of guys with any knowledge of how to bang in any style other than ‘jackhammer’ was now deemed a 'situation'.