by Tasha Black
West fixed Sterling in his cool gaze.
She cleared her throat and went on.
“We are prepared to offer Worthington Enterprises a package deal for patents, talent, and equipment.”
Sterling waited for a response.
“Interesting,” West said at length. “And exactly what are my patents, talent and equipment worth to you, Lieutenant?”
“We’ve done quite a bit of research,” Lt. Sterling said eagerly, swiping her tablet to reveal another wall of tiny numbers and graphs.
“Not worried about the research, Lieutenant. Just numbers, please.”
Sterling tucked the tablet away and looked to Major Andrews.
“Seven point two,” he said simply.
“We’re done,” West said, standing and wiping his hands on his slacks in a way that made Cordelia think he was bluffing.
“I’m sorry?” Lt. Sterling said incredulously.
“No,” West said. “I’m sorry. Sorry I wasted my time this morning. Not that it wasn’t entertaining - you put on a good show, I’ll give you that. But one of those charts has to tell you that an offer like that doesn’t even open a negotiation.”
“Son, you’re a fool,” Major Andrews said, with a slight smile. He still sat calmly.
“No,” West said with a withering look. “What I am is a very busy man. I’ve given you an opportunity. I won’t give you a second. Either give me a number that makes sense, or go invent your own technology.”
“Your technology doesn’t work,” Andrews said, his voice almost a growl. “Your talent isn’t refined. Your patents won’t get past the FDA. Your equipment is fairly impressive, but right now it’s sitting in a lab, useless. Seven point two million dollars is generous.”
“No,” West said. “Santa Claus is generous. And he, like this deal, doesn’t exist.”
“I believe we may be able to get authorization to go as high as seven point five,” Andrews said, shaking his head. “But that would be stretching.”
“I’m afraid I’ve got another meeting to take,” West said, extending his hand.
“Do you have something against the U.S. Military?” Andrews asked, without taking West’s hand. The folksy charm had gone out of his voice.
“Only when it’s trying to steal my patents,” West replied calmly.
Andrews shot up, toppling his chair in the process.
“You better remember who you’re talking to!” He growled, his cheeks deep red.
“You’d better remember who you’re talking to,” West spat back.
Cordelia had always found West attractive when he was focused on his work, but this was a whole new level. She had never seen him fight for something he felt strongly about. Until this moment, she wasn’t convinced there even was anything that Westley Worthington cared about enough to fight for.
Instantly, Dalton appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Worthington,” he said, looking directly at West. “Your next meeting is here.”
“Thank you, Dalton.” West said lightly. “Our guests here were just leaving. Would you please show them to the lobby?”
“No need, no need,” Andrews waved Dalton away. Then he turned back to West. “You’ll wish you’d handled this differently, son,” he said coolly.
Something about his tone left Cordelia unsettled.
West didn’t favor him with a reply. Instead, one corner of his beautiful mouth turned up slightly in a smirk as he watched Andrews turn on his heel and exit in silence, Gibson and Sterling scrambling behind him. Lt. Sterling cast a glance over her shoulder at Dalton, but continued along silently.
For a moment, Cordelia held her breath.
Could this have really happened? Was Med Pros going to continue its work?
Then realization hit and her heart sunk.
“So was that part of your strategy?” she asked, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice.
West didn’t answer. He was still lost in thought, staring through the open doorway.
“You know, to get more money?” she continued, needing to know where things stood.
“No,” West said darkly. “No, it’s not a strategy. That man will not have my division.”
“But he’s right, it’s losing money,” Cordelia whispered.
“It’s mine,” West replied. “He offers me seven point two for my patents, my equipment, my people?”
“The only one with vision is Mallory, and you said she was an unprofessional weirdo,” Cordelia said.
“I said she looked unprofessional. And she’s my weirdo,” West declared. “I’m going to keep Med Pros. And I’m going to make it my baby.”
Maybe it was depth of her gratitude, or her recent lack of sleep. Or maybe it was the high tension of the day. But Cordelia launched herself into West Worthington’s arms.
16
The world stopped turning for a minute, as West adjusted to a new reality.
West Worthington had let emotions rule a business decision. And he was glad about it.
Not because he wanted to start doing business with his heart.
But because Cordelia Cross was pressed into his chest.
No matter how many times he had stolen an appraising glance, he could never have guessed how incredible her breasts would feel, smashed against him. She was warmer and softer and more delicious than he ever imagined, and she smelled like a garden just after a rain.
He wrapped his arms around her instinctively and she just seemed to fit.
The tiny sighing sound she made destroyed his mind. He pulled back to look at her.
Cordelia’s blue-gray eyes were wide. Her full lower lip trembled.
Before he could overthink things, he stilled it with his own.
At first he felt only the impossible softness of her lips and the pounding of her heart against his.
Then she relaxed and yielded to him.
She tasted like summertime.
It awakened a savage hunger in him, more brutal than any desire he’d felt for the parade of actresses and models that had gone before her.
He found himself crushing her closer, wanting to annihilate her as she was doing to him.
She gasped against his lips and he slipped his tongue into the velvet of her mouth, to stroke and plead with hers.
She moaned lightly, and every cell in his body responded to the sound. His cock was so hard it hurt.
He had to have her. He would take her here, on the table, on the floor. Fuck, he’d press her voluptuous ass against the plate glass windows for all of Glacier City to see if it got him inside her faster.
Fighting for self-control, he loosed his clutching hands from her back and cradled her face in his palms.
He was trying to take it slow, but he found his thumbs tugging gently at her jaw, encouraging her to open herself to him, so that he could tantalize himself with kisses that never satisfied.
17
Cordelia was lost in a haze of sensation.
West was everywhere. His big hands were wrapped around her face, his rock hard body pressed against her. His heady scent filled her nose. And she could feel the hard length of his erection through his suit, pushing against her stomach.
He was intoxicating and mesmerizing. She lost herself, willing her body to meld to his. The roughness of his kiss only fueled her desire.
Cordelia had longed for him without knowing how he would ignite her, how he would overwhelm her.
“Ahem,” said a harsh voice from the vicinity of the doorway.
Dalton.
Cordelia tried to slide out of West’s embrace. But he was holding her like a vice. Her hands scrabbled uselessly against his chest.
“Mr. Worthington,” Dalton said, in a voice that was so cold Cordelia could barely recognize it.
“Fuck,” West muttered against her mouth.
He released her face, only to wrap his hands around her hips instead.
Cordelia turned to see Dalton with a very sour expression. It couldn’t be much fun to s
ee West get it on with every woman in town - especially the frumpy assistant.
“We need to talk,” Dalton said darkly, without even acknowledging Cordelia with a glance.
“Clearly,” West said witheringly.
“You know who Andrews is, right?” Dalton asked, not taking the bait.
Cordelia could feel West’s body language change. He went from furious to alert in a heartbeat.
“Shut the door,” he commanded. “Now.”
Dalton swung the door shut and the three of them moved to the conference table.
West let go of Cordelia’s hips, but kept hold of one hand. Her whole body suddenly felt cold.
Dalton sat at the head of the table, West and Cordelia took seats beside him.
“What have you got for me?” West asked.
“Remember the… experiments I told you about?” Dalton asked, staring at the table.
“The DNA therapy?” West asked.
“Yeah,” Dalton said softly. “Well, Andrews was in charge of them. The woman, Elizabeth Sterling, was one of the lead engineers. She helped me through a rough patch.”
“Oh god,” West whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“You can’t sell Med Pros to him,” Dalton said quietly. Cordelia could see the effort it took him not to allow his tone to become pleading.
“I’m not selling Med Pros,” West replied. “To anyone.”
In the silence that followed, Cordelia caught the look of gratitude that passed between Dalton and West.
Dalton stared past West, into Cordelia’s eyes, with a slightly surprised expression.
“Which means that we need to fix it,” West continued. “Get the team together.”
Dalton’s gaze returned to West. Already, Dalton had adopted his usual professional air.
“If you don’t mind my asking, sir,” Dalton said. “Who is the team, exactly?”
“Go see Mallory Pruitt,” West answered. “Tell her to hand pick the people she needs to put us on top. She can pay them double whatever they’re getting now. And give her my direct number.”
“I’m on it,” Dalton said, rising to the room.
He stopped when he reached the door, and turned back with a serious expression.
“West,” he said. Cordelia had never heard him address West by his first name before. “Be careful. You’re up against something very big. You’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg with these guys. Just… don’t make anyone angry.”
He closed the door behind him on the way out.
18
Dalton closed the door and turned on his heel.
Though he had seen the Alpha Division reps out the front door himself, it took all his will power not to frantically scan the hallway.
Every cell was on the ready, his skin prickling with anticipation.
He wondered how long it would take to talk himself down.
Breathing in through his nose, he counted to six and then exhaled slowly. Sterling had taught him that one herself.
Don’t think about her. Be in the moment.
He listened to his footsteps on the marble floor, and smelled the faint almond scent of the wood polish the janitor used on the conference tables. Nothing out of the ordinary, all was well.
He was going to Med Pros to assemble the team, as West had asked him to do. The people there were curious about Mr. Worthington and would be glad to do as he wanted.
Everyone was eager to do as West wanted.
Dalton’s mind snapped instantly to the image of Cordelia pressed in West’s arms.
He was surprised to feel a wave of something dark course through his chest all over again.
He’d thought the first time that it was just an after-shock from seeing Alpha Division here.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
He considered, and then decided to risk examining his feelings. This was plain anger, not fear, as good a distraction as any from the ringing in his ears.
Cordelia.
She was smart, and more importantly she was kind. Dalton had felt strangely at home with her from the very beginning.
West was always a complete jerk to the women he slept with, and of course Dalton wouldn’t want to see him treat sweet, hardworking Cordelia with that cruelty. She didn’t deserve it and she was soft-hearted enough to really feel it.
Dalton realized he was clenching his fists, and took another breath on a six count, releasing them slowly.
He continued on his way, satisfied with his evaluation.
Wanting to protect someone who had been nice to him was perfectly natural.
And that was all it was.
19
Cordelia held her breath.
Something big had just happened. She had about a million questions. But instinct told her to hold off.
“Jesus,” West murmured as the sound of Dalton’s footsteps receded.
West stood and walked over to look out the window, his imposing form silhouetted against the clouds and city outside as the rain pelted the glass.
For several minutes, West stared out over Glacier City. Then he swept a hand through his too-long hair.
“Dalton was a mess when I found him,” he said without turning away from the window. “I’d known him since I was a kid. His dad worked for mine for a little while. Dalton was a couple years older than me, but he played with me anyway - there weren’t a lot of kids around my parents’ estate.
My dad never kept an assistant around for too long.”
He let out a small laugh.
“Sound familiar? Eventually he fired Dalton’s dad for one bullshit reason or another, and their family moved on.
Dalton went into the military to pay for college. We kept in touch here and there. When he graduated, they sent him straight to Afghanistan. He spent two years in combat. He distinguished himself, won a medal, the whole nine yards. Then he became part of a special unit providing protection to the political bigwigs.
Until he finally took a bullet for one. He survived, but he was never the same. They pulled him, and sent him to an engineering division. I remember when he told me he was coming back stateside. He seemed happy, he’d studied Science in college,” West paused, and raised one hand to stroke the glass between the room and the battering rain outside.
“But it turned out they weren’t interested in his science skills. He fit the profile for a new trial. There are plenty of divisions that focus on righting problems - curing asthma, fixing poor vision, that kind of thing. And of course, they try to make the soldiers stronger and smarter. But Dalton told me about a couple of Secret projects - I mean Secret inside of what was already a Top Secret program. Those projects were on the cutting edge of biotechnology, trying to enhance soldiers with gene therapy. They were getting the most useful traits from both by splicing human DNA with… non-human DNA.”
“Canine,” Cordelia breathed before she could stop herself. She had been a curator of canines in her time at the zoo. Her conservation fieldwork and research had all centered on canine behavior. Was that why she had always felt an affinity with Edward? Had she somehow sensed the bits of canine DNA floating around in his system?
“That was Alpha Division,” West continued. “I should have pieced it together myself, but it’s been so long.”
Cordelia thought of the wolf patch Corporal Gibson had worn.
“He never told me exactly what went on in the program. But it must not have gone the way they wanted. When they were finished with Dalton, they threw him in a military hospital. He was ruined, mentally, physically…”
Cordelia had a hard time imagining the strong, robust man she knew in that state.
“I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but that wasn’t unusual with Dalton. Then one day, out of the blue, I get a call from one of my contacts that he was in that hospital. It was right when things were hitting the fan with my dad and the mortgages. Normally, I would have had my assistant send something. But I was feeling lost. And I wanted to see my old friend again.
I
got there and they wouldn’t let me in to see him. I had a bad feeling. Normally, I would have called in the family lawyers. But they were busy with my dad. I’m glad it worked out that way. They probably would have “disappeared” him while we fought the legal battle.
Instead, I just waited until the late night shift came on. Then I bribed the guards. Turns out they don’t get paid all that much. They were more than happy to oblige.
He was in a private room, curled in a bed. He was so thin, and the smell… I would have thought he must be dead except for his breathing. It sounded like… like an animal.”
West paused and ran his hand through his hair again, still looking out the window. Cordelia could hear the pain in his voice. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but she could tell he needed to get this out.
“I took him out of there that night. Guards were willing to look the other way, though it cost me a pretty penny.
I brought him back to the estate and hired a private nurse to help me get him cleaned up and healed. And set the lawyers on the paperwork to make his discharge official. In a month or so, he was filling out, eating, gaining his physical strength back.
But he was still broken inside. I had no idea what they had done to him. He didn’t tell me - didn’t talk much at all.
Then one day, the nurse had to bring her dog in. It was something about a vet appointment, I don’t remember now. Anyway, the thing went right to Dalton. Suddenly, he’s on the ground with it, playing with it, petting it. It flops down in his lap, and he starts crying like his heart is broken.
That’s when he told me about the canine DNA experiment. He didn’t go into details, except that it was painful and it didn’t work, at least not completely. Some of the sensory enhancements stuck. The man can practically hear through walls.”
West was quiet for a moment, as if some of the tension had gone out of him.
“So you hired him?” Cordelia asked, finally daring to speak.
“Yeah,” West replied. “He didn’t want charity, but as I pointed out to him, his military background and enhanced senses made him an ideal head of security. He’s been invaluable.”
