After Hours

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  I bit my lip and did a quick calculation in my head. My boss wanted me at the meeting first thing, which probably meant just after eight. How long could an introduction go on? Not more than two hours, for sure. And the coffee shop—Yellow Fin’s—was literally right beside my office building.

  I lifted the phone and typed. Can we make it 1015?

  This time, his reply was quick. Definitely. Thank u.

  The fridge…? I prodded.

  Tomorrow, he sent back.

  I set down the phone, genuinely puzzled. He clearly wasn’t trying to just run out on me.

  If Liv were here, I thought, she’d be telling me now’s the time where he reveals to me that he has three wives and wants make me to be the fourth.

  “I think you’d be wrong,” I muttered to my absent best friend.

  Something was up. And even though my gut told me it didn’t have anything to do with another woman, I had an uneasy feeling pretty much everywhere else. I rolled over and gave my pillow a solid squeeze. Ten fifteen was less than eleven hours away. But it seemed like an awfully long time.

  Chapter 7

  Marcelo

  I glared down at the screen on my computer, willing the words to stop swimming in front of me. Pleading silently for the world to implode. I hadn’t slept for a fucking second. Not one. Guilt mixed with dread, and the combo was enough to keep me up the whole damned night. I felt like shit. A glance in the mirror before I left the house told me I looked like it, too.

  Exactly the way I want to start my new job.

  Though if I was being honest, then I had to admit that I was more worried about how Aysia was going to react than I was about making a good first impression with everyone else. After two shots of scotch and three hours of pacing, I’d finally come up with a plan I hoped would work.

  First things first. Fire Carl. Second things second. Avoid Aysia until our coffee date. The third thing. The worst thing. Try to explain away my ability to be a total ass.

  The imaginary conversation made me sweat. Every fictional scenario ended with me getting a door slammed in my face and a possible harassment suit.

  I didn’t ask you about the video because I was living in the moment. Slam.

  I wasn’t sure you knew and didn’t want to embarrass you. Or myself. Slam-slam.

  By the way…we work together. I found out yesterday. And ran from your house like a giant baby. Slam-slam-slam.

  I ran my hand over my hair and directed my attention back to the monitor, searching for Carl’s direct line. It took me several too-long seconds before I found it, and several more before I picked up the phone on my desk to dial it. I didn’t make it more than the first two digits, though, before a light rap on my door made me pause.

  “Come in!” I called, wishing the damned office assistant hadn’t quit—hiring a new one was just one more thing I’d have to do before I could really get started.

  I forced a smile onto my face—probably reminiscent of a serial killer in clown makeup—and lifted my eyes to greet the intruder.

  Not intruder, I corrected quickly. Co-worker. Get your shit together, Diaz.

  Although it turned out to be neither. The man who stuck his head through the door was Eco-Go Development’s founder and CEO, Mike Roper. A man I’d known all my life. He’d rescued my dad’s business from financial ruin years ago, and I respected him more than most people in the world. My smile turned genuine.

  “Uncle Mike,” I greeted. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere?”

  He stepped into the office. “Postponed my trip by a couple days. You didn’t get my e-mail?”

  I shook my head. “Kid from tech said he got everything sorted out on Friday, but I didn’t see anything come through over the weekend.”

  “Damn.”

  “Is there an issue?”

  “I called together the senior staff for a meeting this morning. Wanted to give you a formal welcome.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Maybe not. But it’s too late. They’re all in the boardroom waiting.”

  Shit.

  I opened my mouth, then closed it. I couldn’t very well argue with him about it. Years of seeing him as a second father prevented it, and even if that hadn’t been the case, when I’d signed on for the job, I’d agreed that Mike Roper would be the one and only person to whom I was accountable.

  So much for hiding in my office.

  “All right,” I said through barely-not-gritted teeth.

  “Everything okay, son?”

  “Yep.” I pushed back my chair and stood, then gestured for him to lead the way.

  The older man studied my face for a minute before turning back to the door. I was grateful he didn’t pursue it, but there was no way I could relax as I followed him down the hall. I could feel every eye on me as we stepped along. It wasn’t the kind of thing that normally bothered me. Hell. I usually liked drawing attention. Hard to work in PR if I couldn’t handle a bit of public scrutiny. This, though, felt like a walk of fucking shame. And no one else even knew what I’d done.

  As we hit the boardroom, I paused to take a breath and straighten my shoulders.

  Composure. Grow a set of balls and maintain it.

  I threw a relaxed, welcoming smile onto my face and let Mike push open the door for me. I strode confidently into the office and reminded myself I’d spoken to crowds of a hundred at a time; a table of seven or eight people was nothing.

  Nothing. Except when one of those people is a woman who’s had her mouth on your cock.

  Because there she was. Right near the front of the room, her petite but curvy frame settled into a high-backed leather chair. Her clothes were professional now, but that made them no less seductive. Under that chic, cream-colored top and hot pink, hip-hugging skirt was a body that made me want to shove aside the stacks of paper and throw her down right there, audience be damned.

  For a second, my eyes held hers, and I saw surprise register on her face. A flash of fury followed. Then she covered both so quickly that I knew I was the only one who’d seen.

  Yeah. Also because you’re the only asshole staring at her.

  I ripped my gaze away and strode to the head of the table. Vaguely, I was aware of Mike’s introduction. He went around the table, announcing the names and positions of each of the department heads.

  I only heard two.

  Aysia Banks, acting Manager of Human Resources.

  Carl Reeves, Manager of Accounts.

  In spite of the way I tried to control it, my stare flicked up the table, searching him out. He was looking right back at me, a smug little smile of his face. He turned a tiny, knowing glance Aysia’s way, then looked back toward me.

  Fuck.

  Things were going from bad to worse. The king of douchebags wasn’t just some asshole crunching numbers. He was a department head. One who’d seen me with Aysia on Friday night. He knew something was up, and whether it was big or small, it still complicated the situation. His imminent demise wasn’t going to go as smoothly as I’d planned.

  Fuck with a cherry on top.

  Mike’s hand clapped me on the shoulder then, forcing me to focus on the moment.

  “Saved the best for last,” he said. “This is the man of the hour, Marcelo Diaz. I’m sure you’re all aware that he was coming onboard, and I’ve heard the rumors just as much as you have, so I wanted to take this time to clear up a few things.”

  He went on, explaining my personal connection to his family, and asking the team to rest assured that the relationship hadn’t influenced his decision to hire me, it only gave him a leg up in convincing me to join on. The rest of his speech was a blur of accolades on my behalf, an explanation of how he wanted me to help bring Eco-Go to a new level, and a discussion of how he wanted to see his vision carried through to the next gen
eration as he transitioned to retirement. All of it was overshadowed by Aysia.

  She held her face pointed in my direction, but she didn’t look at me. Just through me. Her blue eyes were two flecks of ice. In the three days since I’d met her, not once had I seen her look so thoroughly cold.

  It cut through me. Like a goddamned iceberg.

  At last, Mike finished his speech and turned the floor over to me. I cleared my throat, my mind temporarily blank. I got as far as a ten-count before managing to shift to autopilot, spewing out my PR philosophy with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

  “Image is everything, but it can’t just be skin-deep,” I made myself say.

  It was one of my favorite lines. Not quite snappy enough to be a personal motto, but close enough that I rarely spoke about my work without bringing it up. Right now it felt like bullshit.

  “You have a public persona.” I said. “Your company has a public persona. They need to be in line, and they need to be genuine.” Fucking liar. “So from here on out, for every aspect of your job, I want you ask yourself just one question. Am I doing this because I mean it, or because someone told me I have to?” I stepped back from the table and smiled a wooden smile. I fielded a dozen questions—none of which came from Carl or Aysia—then gave the reins back to Mike, who closed off the meeting and dismissed the whole group.

  I didn’t run back to my office, but I sure as hell didn’t stick around for coffee and doughnuts, either. I’d barely sat down, before my door swung open without a knock. I was unsurprised to look up and find Carl Reeves staring down at me, his arms crossed over his chest and smiling his self-satisfied smile at me.

  I swear to God, I thought. One wrong fucking move, and I’m going to smash my fist through those teeth.

  “Mr. Reeves,” I greeted, my anger carefully restrained.

  “Let’s skip the bullshit,” the other man replied. “Go straight to whatever it is you want to say to me.”

  “All right, Carl. You’re fired.”

  “Fuck you. I’m not fired.”

  I leaned back in my chair and kept my tone neutral. “Your priorities aren’t in line with Eco-Go’s. I’m going to have to let you go.”

  “You can’t fire me just because you fucked Aysia Banks.”

  “Let me show you something.” I slid forward to my computer, tapped away for a second, then tilted the monitor toward the asshole. “That right there, Carl, is why you’re fired. Eco-Go doesn’t condone this kind of footage being shared on our server. Especially not when a female staff member is concerned. You do know that your emails here aren’t really yours? They’re company property. You’re just lucky I got to it before someone else did.”

  “Someone else…” He trailed off and narrowed his eyes at me. “Someone else is going to see it, if you fire me. In fact, everyone else will.”

  “Are trying to blackmail me?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity from my response.

  He didn’t bat an eye. “And if that video isn’t enough…I’ve also got this.”

  He yanked his phone from his pocket, flicked his finger over the screen, then held it out. I took it, and another video came to life in my hands. The tinny sound of poorly recorded bass hummed through the small speakers. The thumping music was familiar, and in a moment, I saw why.

  Shit.

  On the screen, Aysia and I were locked together on the dance floor at The Well Pub. There was no mistaking the intimacy of our interaction. As it cut off, I lifted my gaze to meet Carl’s.

  “That’s just a copy, by the way, so don’t bother wasting time trying to delete it.” He was all smugness. “And I know what happened next, so don’t bother denying it, either. After the kiss, you faked a fight. She ran, and you snuck out a few minutes later. Then you got yourself a taste.”

  Every part of me tensed. My hand clutched so tightly around the phone that I don’t know how it stayed in one piece. The thought of the disgusting fucker watching us made me want to break everything in sight. It took all of my willpower to keep from diving across the desk so I could take him by the throat.

  “The video is just a dance,” I growled. “Nothing more.”

  “True. But when it gets out, and the other one gets out, too…” He offered me a shrug. “People will draw their own conclusions.”

  “You’re still fired, Carl,” I said again.

  “You really want people thinking that Aysia slept her way to where she is? You think she wants people to think so? You might not know her well yet, but I can guarantee you that this job is everything to her. If you fuck it up, you’ll ruin any chance you have of getting near her again. And you’ll destroy her.”

  I met his even gaze with a seething one of my own. He was right. I didn’t want him to be. I wished even a part of what he said was untrue.

  But wasn’t. It would destroy her. It would ruin my chances.

  I slammed the other man’s phone onto my desk, then flicked it toward him. “Get out.”

  He smirked. “Not firing me, then?”

  “Trust me,” I said back. “I’ll find a way.”

  Carl snapped up the phone and tucked it into his pocket. “Let me know how that goes.”

  He shot me a fucking wink, then slipped out of my office without closing the door. I didn’t get up to close it. I was too busy worrying about what the hell my options were.

  I wasn’t going to let the douchebag blackmail me. Not on my first day. Not ever. I just needed to come up with a way around it. Something that wouldn’t hurt Aysia.

  “Fuck.”

  Just moments later, I regretted not shutting myself in. If I had, at least I’d have given myself a second to prepare.

  Because Aysia now stood in my doorway, her frigid gaze pinning me to my seat.

  * * * *

  Aysia

  I had to force myself to meet Marc’s eyes.

  Marcelo’s eyes, I corrected silently. Marcelo Diaz. The man you knew was about to start. Whose resume you perused.

  Why, oh, why hadn’t I made the connection? It hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  But it doesn’t matter now, I told myself. What matters is doing something about it.

  And at that moment, it meant keeping my cool and not jerking my gaze away. I wished I didn’t know so well what those eyes of his looked like in middle of a passionate moment. I wished I wasn’t so aware of how they got shiny and crinkled up at the corners when he laughed. But I had to be strong. And strength required eye contact.

  Keep it together, Aysia. He’s a dick who played you.

  I took a breath. But instead of saying something that would put him in his place, a question slipped from my lips.

  “Did you know? When you came up to me in the pub. Did you know already that I was an employee at Eco-Go?”

  His expression darkened. “No, Aysia.”

  “Ms. Banks,” I corrected.

  “What?”

  “Ms. Banks,” I repeated. “You need to call me Ms. Banks.”

  “Why?”

  He was frowning like I’d grown a third boob. And like the boob in question was in the middle of my forehead. So maybe it was a ridiculous request to make. But I wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

  “Because we need to be professional here, Mr. Diaz.”

  He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “I didn’t know you worked here. It would’ve been a hell of an ethical breach for me to keep that from you, Ms. Banks.”

  “Is that the truth?”

  “Of course.”

  After studying him for a second and decided he was being honest. I exhaled, relieved that he hadn’t crossed that line. I also wished it didn’t sound so sexy when he addressed me formally.

  You’re pissed off. Don’t turn it into something deviant, I chastised silently.

  “Now that you do know that you’r
e my boss—”

  He cut me off. “I’m not your boss.”

  “But you will be, when Mr. Roper retires. Everyone knew when he made the announcement last week that he would be grooming the new PR manager as his replacement. And speaking of everyone…I did a tiny bit of poking around, and thankfully, it seems like no one else noticed us at the bar the other night. No small miracle, considering that it’s usually packed full of people from Eco-Go. Anyway, when Mr. Roper does hand things over, you should be safe. We both should be.”

  “It could be two more years before he cuts strings, Ay—Ms. Banks.”

  “You’ll still be my boss.” I refused to back down. “So that being said…”

  “Aysia.” He stood up and stepped around the desk, one arm outstretched like he expected me to take it.

  Do not go to him, I ordered myself.

  But I could already smell his intoxicating scent, and it made me want to close the gap between us so I could drink it in. I settled my urge to move by crinkling my toes up inside my high heeled shoes.

  “Ms. Banks,” I replied firmly.

  “For crying out fucking loud,” he muttered, dropping his arm.

  “How long?” I made myself say.

  “How long?” he repeated.

  “When did you find out I worked here? Because I don’t think it was the second you walked into the boardroom. You weren’t surprised to see me.”

  “Yesterday,” he admitted.

  “How?”

  “Your business card fell out of your purse.”

  “And you didn’t tell me because…?”

  For a second, Marc looked torn, and I couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts were battling in his head. Was he trying to come up with a lie to cover his own ass? My mind soured at the thought. But after a second, he just shook his head again.

  “It was a cowardly fucking move,” he said.

  “No shit.”

  “I told you last night that I wanted to talk to you.”

  My anger level was creeping up again. “You texted me.”

  “Aysia.”

  I let his use of my name slip this time. “No. Seriously. Why wait until today?”