by Tasha Black
Peter slowly closed the distance between them, his hands balling into fists.
West saw the punch coming a mile away. Peter had never been a good fighter. He could have blocked it. He could have easily dodged and sent Peter falling on his ass. His training had taught him dozens of ways to deal with a wild punch.
West didn’t move.
The blow connected with his right cheek in a white explosion of pain. West welcomed it, and waited for the next one. He deserved whatever Peter could dish out.
The next punch didn’t come.
Peter turned on his heel and walked out of the penthouse.
West stood in the empty room.
Between a security detail, a personal assistant and Peter, West was almost never alone.
He checked his reflection in the window, feeling the spot where Peter had struck him. His fingers came away bloody. He’d deal with it in the morning.
West shifted his focus from the reflection in the glass to the world on the other side. The stars twinkled.
For as far as he could see in any direction, there were gray buildings and bright lights. Below them were tiny umbrellas sadly wending their way from one dark building to another in total anonymity.
Soon Peter’s would be among them.
Which meant that from now on, everyone in West’s life was only there for a paycheck.
A hollow feeling tried to bubble up in his chest.
Tamping it down firmly, West turned away from the window and decided it was time to go to the office.
5
Cordelia dreamed of Westley Worthington.
She had dreamed of him before, mostly in the context of her forgetting something at work, and him firing her.
This one was different.
This time she dreamed about making love with him. One of his hands was in her hair and the other was moving her hips over him. He was warm and strong and smelled like the ocean. He gazed at her with those radiant eyes.
Just as Cordelia thought she would fly apart, she heard her cell phone ring far away.
But who could it be? Mr. Worthington was right here. And where was her phone?
In her distraction she looked away.
“Ignore it,” he said in a strange voice.
When she looked back at him, West was gone and it was Peter on top of her. His face was racked with frustration and his hands tightened on her hip and ripped at her hair.
The phone rang again, louder this time.
Cordelia woke up in a cold sweat and grabbed the phone from beside her bed.
“H-hello?”
“I need you. You’re coming in now.”
It was Mr. Worthington.
“It’s after midnight…”
“I need to run something by you.”
Weird. That’s what he normally said to Peter.
“Um, okay. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“Dalton’s on his way. You have ten minutes.”
Cordelia sighed, but it was only for her own benefit. He’d already hung up.
Somehow, she managed to shower and dress before the car arrived. By the time she got to Worthington Enterprises, Cordelia was fully awake.
“Good luck up there, Miss Cross!”
“Thanks, Edward. Drive safe.”
Anyone who said money couldn’t buy everything had never met Edward Dalton. Mr. Worthington’s head of security was always ready to jump when the boss asked, no matter the time.
Despite working fairly closely for months, Cordelia knew very little about the man. He was young, African American, and ex-military. She thought he had a history with Mr. Worthington, but wasn’t sure about the details.
She certainly had no complaints about the way he filled out his custom tailored suits. He reminded her of Detective Luther from the BBC show, except with startling, ice-blue eyes. Cordelia always felt completely safe when he was around. And he had always been so nice to her. Edward Dalton was most likely the reason she had even made it through that first scary week.
Cordelia swiped her ID card and entered the darkened building, footsteps echoing as she crossed the cold marble floors of the expansive lobby. The eerie greenish glow of the elevator dial in the gloom reminded her of horror movies and HBO specials.
By the time she stepped off on the top floor she was pretty well spooked.
The sight of Mr. Worthington at his desk calmed her. She blushed, remembering her dream as she approached.
The desk was a sleek modern thing with metal legs and a glass top. It reminded Cordelia of the cheap IKEA stuff she’d had in college. But of course this desk had probably cost more than her education.
The surface of the desk was always painfully neat and tidy - even when West was on one of his crazy work immersions.
“Clean house, clean mind,” he was fond of saying as he refused hard copies to the despair of the old school secretaries.
But no matter how clean the desk, his mind didn’t look clean tonight.
“Cord,” he said, relief in his voice.
“Um, Hi,” she managed, still unsure of her purpose.
She had overstepped her bounds at the party. He wouldn’t call her here in the middle of the night just to fire her, would he?
“Med-Pros hit a wall. When was someone going to tell me?”
Cordelia blanched. Medical Prosthetics was losing money but it was also the only worthwhile thing Worthington Enterprises was accomplishing.
And Cordelia had a personal investment in their work.
“I didn’t realize you weren’t aware.”
“Of course I knew that we were losing money,” he said. “Meds stuff always loses money at the outset. But we’re losing real money. And there’s no sign that we’re going to get FDA approval anytime soon. Or ever.”
“As you said, medical is a long game, Mr. Worthington. I’m sure tech will get it to a place to make it past the FDA. Besides, it’s going to be life-changing, maybe even life-saving to so many people. Don’t you feel like it would be…wrong to pull the plug on something that could save lives?”
She already knew the answer - that it was just business. West would be at work for 72 hours straight, breaking the department down and selling off the parts, while Cordelia ran for his coffee. Cordelia could feel her heart breaking.
But West didn’t answer. Instead he raked his long fingers through his thick brown hair.
At length, he replied.
“I have an email from a military contractor. They want to buy Med Pros for military use.”
“Oh. Are you going to sell it?”
“Sure, if I can get back more than I put in.”
“What would the military want with Med Pros? Would they continue to develop it?”
Cordelia tried to keep the hope out of her voice.
“Not sure. Maybe for veterans who have lost their limbs- though sometimes the military has other ideas. Advanced drone control, maybe? Whatever, it’s not my problem. I’m meeting them in a couple days.”
Cordelia shuddered at the idea of advanced drone control.
She realized West was staring at her.
“Why did you bring me in, Mr. Worthington?” she asked frankly. “What can I do for you?”
His dark eyes had a faraway look.
“Do you ever feel like you didn’t have a friend in the world?”
“No, of course not.”
His face was suddenly expressionless. She could tell it was the wrong answer. She hadn’t been prepared for a lot of personal questions though. West usually wasn’t interested in anyone other than himself, and sometimes in Peter.
“Where’s Peter?”
West shrugged.
“I don’t have time to worry about it. I have a company to run. We have to get to know Med Pros in the next three days - well enough to be able to get the max value out of it. Where would you start?”
No Peter. And he wanted Cordelia’s advice.
“Med Pros is complicated. I would start with the talent.”
“Okay, Vince, he’s a good guy.”
Cordelia shook her head. Vince Palma ran Med Pros. He was a leftover from the days of West’s dad. Middle-aged, paunch and a pretty bad combover. He’d probably been the older Mr. Worthington’s idea of a fun guy, but he didn’t actually understand the technology. He just pointed at spreadsheets.
“No, not for this,” Cordelia said. “Mallory Pruitt, she’s the one to talk to.”
“You mean Pigtails?”
West and Peter had a nickname for everyone. Cordelia didn’t want to know what hers was.
“You know that’s just her hair, right? She’s as smart as they come. Med Pros recruited her from the robotics lab at Berkeley. She developed an artificial eye that could bring sight to the blind. She is the heart of Med Pros. Without her that department would be sunk.”
“It’s sunk anyway.”
Touché.
“Well, Mallory’s the one to talk to. Don’t bother with Vince. He has no idea what’s going on. Testing the prosthetics on adults will begin in six months. They’re cautiously optimistic about bringing bio-therapy prosthetics to children quickly after that if the adults respond. And of course the implications for patients with paralysis are far-reaching.”
Cordelia knew she was babbling at this point, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. What if she hit on something that sparked his interest?
“What do you mean, paralysis patients?” he asked. “I thought we were making new limbs.”
“Well, think about it. If you can create nerve-based biotechnology to replace a missing limb, why couldn’t you use that same tech to replicate nerves for paralytics? Of course that’s an oversimplified explanation but you get the idea.”
“How do you know so much about this department?”
“It’s an interesting field, and it’s an important one,” she hedged.
“You’re smarter than you look.”
Great. A blonde joke.
“Very funny, sir.”
“No, I mean it, Cord. Nice work. Get me up to speed.”
He indicated a chair next to his behind the computer screen.
Cordelia was amazed. She walked around to sit next to him with some trepidation. In all these months she had set his schedule, run for his coffee, arranged his “dates” and everything else. He had never once asked for her thoughts.
He leaned back and put his arm on the back of her seat to push it out for her.
Suddenly all her senses heightened. She could see a spectrum in his dark eyes, heat radiated off his body, and he smelled like soap and masculine energy.
Being aware of him as a man was the last thing she wanted. Desperately, Cordelia tried to disconnect from everything she was taking in. She broke eye contact, terrified that he could read the thoughts on her face.
But she couldn’t stop thinking them.
She tried to control herself but the images flashed through her head. They were completely alone in the building with the moonlight shining romantically through rows of windows. What if he kissed her? What if he threw her down on the desk? Well, most likely it would shatter and ruin the moment.
“Everything ok?” he asked.
“Sure. I’m just sleepy.”
“Well, it’s too late, you showed your hand. Now that I know you’re useful you will work until the work is finished. Understood?”
“Yes, except for Sunday.”
“Oh yeah, that’s in your contract. How much for Sunday?”
“What?”
“How much do I need to pay you to get Sundays back?”
“You never had Sundays in the first place.”
He made a gesture like he was waving flies away from a picnic basket.
“Whatever. Name your price.”
“There isn’t a price.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Everything has a price.”
“Sundays are off the table. I’m sorry if that’s a problem. I think I’m demonstrating pretty well that I’m an accommodating person.”
Tears prickled at Cordelia’s eyes and threatened to spill over. She didn’t want to lose this job. She couldn’t lose this job. But her mother had a breaking point, and it wasn’t worth testing where it was.
“Hey, don’t get all weepy on me. I only asked.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
To his credit, and her relief, West didn’t press the point or ask any questions. He turned back to the screen.
“Look at this,” he said. “Look at what they’re spending on materials. It’s all imported. Any reason more of this can’t come from the US? I actually own companies here that manufacture some of this stuff. Why are we going overseas?”
Cordelia jumped right in with him. They went over each facet of the Med Pros budget.
Cordelia took copious notes of things to discuss with Mallory Pruitt. Although West had tried to call Mallory, it seemed she had the good sense not to pick up at 2 AM.
Cordelia had been paying more attention to Med Pros than West, but she was impressed how he immediately understood each problem the department faced and how quickly he brainstormed possible solutions. She had always thought of him as a trust-fund-kid type. But he clearly had a gift for business. It was a shame he was too busy playing around most of the time to make use of his abilities.
They sparred about each issue as they went. West was opinionated, but not so much that he couldn’t concede a point when he was wrong. He seemed to enjoy the argument. Cordelia was enjoying it too.
After a few hours Cordelia lost steam. When she was ready to faint with exhaustion West finally turned to her.
“You’re tired aren’t you?”
She nodded.
“You helped me a lot tonight,” he said. “It’s 4 AM and I need you back at 8:30 to talk to Pigtails. I can send you home with Dalton or you can sleep here. I have a bedroom through that door for late nights like this.”
Cordelia looked up at him in horror.
He laughed out loud.
“I’m not going to bed - you are,” he said. “By yourself.”
Relief and disappointment hit at the same time.
Cordelia looked away but when she snuck a glance back at West he was smiling at her warmly.
God he was handsome.
It was easy to forget that he was a complete asshole.
“I’ll go home, thank you.”
He nodded.
“Text Dalton. I’ll see you in the morning.”
When she got to the elevator, she turned back.
West was focused on the computer screen again. Work made him look like a different man. Though he was tired, the indolent expression that usually marred his good looks was gone. He was alert and deeply engaged.
The desk lamp threw a shaft of light across his masculine features. He could have been a hero in a black and white movie.
But he wasn’t. He was her boss. And a colossal jerk. Cordelia reminded herself to do a better job remembering both of those things.
6
West held his gaze to the computer screen with a discipline he’d forgotten he had. When the elevator doors closed on Cordelia it was like the air went out of the room.
He ran a hand through his hair again. Had he seriously been thinking about seducing his plain jane assistant?
He probably just needed caffeine.
There was an imported espresso machine in the lobby, but the whole thing smacked of effort. West slipped his phone out of his pocket.
“Tell Dalton to bring back Starbucks,” he said with his finger on the button.
“Searching the web for Leonard Maltin,” came the response from the tiny speaker.
“No,” West corrected, speaking more slowly. “Tell Dalton to bring back Starbucks.”
“There are eight Starbucks locations in your area. Would you like directions?”
“Never mind.”
He swiped the lock screen and sent Dalton a text.
Then he leaned back again to
think.
Cordelia was smarter than he’d ever given her credit for. From a profit standpoint, she was underutilized in a support position. The right thing to do was to get her into a lower level exec position with an exclusivity contract to keep her loyal and a stock option to make her not mind.
But he didn’t feel like sharing. He hadn’t felt so tuned into a conversation in a long time. And with Peter out of the picture, West needed someone to bounce ideas off of anyway. Not that Peter had ever contributed much.
Peter was the guy in their group of friends from school who never quite got the jokes. He never had a hot girlfriend. He was loyal and kind and totally went with the flow. He was a classic scholarship kid. It made him an epic sidekick.
West pushed him too far today.
He’d be back. At least, he had always come back before. He was too nice to stay away. And in the meantime, there was a company to box up and sell.
Odd how Cordelia seemed so wrapped up in keeping it. Had he ever seemed like the type of guy who would care about helping others? Did she really see that in him?
That thought led back to what else she’d seen in him today.
God, her eyes. How had he never noticed that Cordelia was hot?
She was a no-show in the sexy attitude department. Her hair was natural blonde - straight and wheat colored - nothing like the tousled platinum manes he preferred. He always did like her tits. But never enough to think about them beyond the moment they left his vision.
Well, it was lucky he hadn’t noticed she was hot before because he sure as shit wasn’t going to sleep with her now. She was too useful. He would keep her on as his assistant, wingman, and brainstorming partner. No need to take over her nights too.
Though he would like to know what she did with her Sundays.
He hoped she wasn’t some sort of religious nut, like the ones that always showed up to protest anything in Glacier City that seemed like fun.
She didn’t seem the type.
Was there a boyfriend?
It seemed unlikely, most women her age with boyfriends talked about them incessantly. And boyfriends wouldn’t tolerate the hours West put his assistants through. But maybe if the boyfriend was satisfied with her Sundays…
