“It’s black tie.” Ignoring my groan, he digs in his desk and retrieves an invitation that he hands over to me. “It’s the Annual Award Banquet for Advances in the Media. While I don’t want it made known that I’m talking to anyone else in the industry, I’ve arranged to be seated next to Nathan Murphy tonight. He’s a key player at Mirage. I’d like you to take my place at the dinner and use the opportunity to feel out what Murphy could bring to Werner Media.”
It’s hilarious how quickly he’s changed my idea into his own. But whatever. It’s something.
He stands and why do I have the feeling it’s because he wants to take a power stance? “It’s critical that you keep this on the down-low. Do you think you can manage that?”
I want to roll my eyes. Instead, I study the paper in my hand. “The invite has a plus one.”
“Do not bring a plus one.” There’s that scowl again. I’d be drunk if I’d been taking shots. “I need you at your best tonight. No distractions.”
“Stop worrying, bro. I got this.” Before he can change his mind, I pocket the invitation and head out the door, calling over my shoulder, “You won’t regret it.”
“I already do,” he mutters behind me.
I’m facing away, but want to bet he’s scowling? Life is good.
The Broad Street Ballroom is in the Financial District, and by the time I’m dressed and get down to that part of town, the dinner is just about to get started. It’s perfect timing though, because I walk in behind a familiar gorgeous, leggy brunette.
Man, my luck just got a whole fuck-lot better.
I follow Genevieve without making my presence known. So this was what her plans were for tonight. It totally makes sense that she’d be at the media awards.
I distract myself from the idea that she might have a date with how hot she looks, even from behind. Her hair is pulled into a thick knot at the base of her neck. Teardrop jewels dangle on silver chains from her ears, a nice contrast to the dark brown of her tresses. Her shoes are strappy, high-heeled, mixed metallic sandals that lace up her toned calves.
The best is her outfit, though. She’s wearing a black trapeze dress that falls unevenly along her mid-thigh, and all I can think about is how easily that style lifts up, how little work it takes to get underneath.
(Yes, I know what a trapeze style is. I wasn’t kidding about learning fashion basics from my sister. Did I mention she used to use me as her model to practice her design skills? I picked up a lot along the way. I mean a lot.)
Genevieve pauses, and I duck back as she looks around. She’s definitely waiting for someone. Imagine my relief when I see her father walking toward her.
Though, there’s also a younger man at his side. A tall, broody looking gentleman. Exactly the kind of guy who gets the eyes of the prettiest girls in a room.
I immediately hate him. Obviously.
“Genevieve, what are you doing here?” Edward Fasbender seems both surprised and irritated to see his daughter. “I specifically told you I didn’t want you interfering.”
Her spine straightens, and I feel the air bristle. “And then you brought Hagan?”
Hagan. Her brother she’d mentioned earlier. Yeah, now I don’t hate him, but he irritates me for another reason—namely, because he’s competition for her with her father, and though I don’t know a lot about her yet, I know that she’s better than this asswipe.
Maybe that’s an unfair judgment. But I know what it’s like to have a holier-than-thou older brother.
And then he says, “Sucks to be you, doesn’t it?” and I reinstate my first opinion. Hagan Fasbender is definitely an asswipe.
“Very professional,” Genny says, and I give her points for refraining from the name-calling I’ve resorted to in my head.
Edward ignores the exchange between his offspring. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he says, “Thank you for stopping by, but there isn’t a spot for you, princess. Why don’t you go join your stepmother at the nail salon?”
Jesus, he’s patronizing. My hands curl into fists and I can’t express how much I want to slug him.
But then I have another idea—a better idea.
I step forward and slip my arm around her waist. “She’s here with me, actually. As my date. Aren’t you, Genny?”
“Uh.” Startled, she squints up at me, and for a minute I think she might not play along.
Then she smiles. Tightly, but it counts. “Right. My date.”
Edward drops his hand from her shoulder but narrows his eyes in my direction. “And who are you?”
It’s okay. I’d be predatory about her if she were my daughter, too.
Thank fuck she’s not.
I extend my hand in his direction. “Chandler Pierce.”
“Ah, the younger Pierce.” The glance he throws his son is the kind I’m used to getting—the one that says, this man isn’t as important as his brother, but he’s still important; better kiss up.
I usually hate that glance. Tonight, I’m using it to put this turd in his place.
“Younger, less-exhausted,” I say. “I’ve been filling in for Hudson as much as I can. I was at the gala the other night. Your daughter meant to introduce me to you then, but it seems you were otherwise occupied.”
In other words, she’s the only reason I’m giving you my time right now. Get the point, buddy?
His expression says he gets it.
He’s about to fall over himself in flattering me—I know the drill. I don’t let him get that far. “Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to speak some time. Right now, I believe they’re starting to serve our meals.” I turn toward my pretend-date. “Genevieve? Shall we?”
“We shall.”
With my hand still on her waist, I nudge her away from her father and her stuck-up suit of a sibling.
“Goddamned narrow-minded tosser,” she mutters as soon as we’re out of their earshot. She stops walking to complain. “I can’t believe he brought my brother to this event. Hagan’s only interested in how many skirts he can get under in a single trip to the States. He collects sexual encounters like some people collect passport stamps.”
Ah, huh.
“I think I know the type.” I mean me. Hagan and I are cut from the same cloth, it seems. Realizing that, I stand behind my earlier harsh thoughts. I’m definitely an asswipe as well, especially with the speed I go through women.
Though I’ve barely noticed any other skirts since the one on my arm walked into my life.
Which is probably why I’m only just now realizing that I can’t actually have dinner with Genevieve. The reason I’m here in the first place is to feel out her competition. There’s no way I can do that with her at my table.
Just, how do I break the news to her?
“And you!” she exclaims suddenly in a tone that makes me think she’ll take the news just fine. “Are you happy now? You wanted me to agree to a date so badly, you must be happy as a clam that you’ve trapped me into one. You probably followed me here tonight just so you could find your opportunity.”
“What?” I’m floored by her turn of hostility. And I’m more than a little perturbed. “Let’s just get one thing straight right off the bat. I did not follow you here. You think I only have you as an item on my agenda? I do work, you know.”
“Really? Doing what? It seems that mostly you just stand around looking pretty.”
It’s probably not a good time to mention the trading company I manage in Iowa because, well, it’s in Iowa.
Besides, she’s kind of not far off from the truth. Not that I stand around looking pretty—though, I do look good, if I say so myself—but that I don’t actually seem to have a lot of responsibilities at Pierce Industries. Something that’s been bothering me more and more as of late. That’s a matter to take up with Hudson. Eventually. Not now.
Right now, my focus is on Genevieve. “For your information, I’m here not because of you but because of my job. My job. I have an important tête-à-tête on the menu.” So th
ere.
She laughs. Actually laughs. “Important tête-à-tête. Well, aren’t you fancy.”
“Laugh all you want. I’m glad I can be the source of your amusement.” Is it weird that the more she mocks me, the more desperate I am to win her over?
But like I just told her, I’m not here for her. I’m here for Hudson. For Pierce Industries.
I force myself to stay focused on my agenda and pause to scan the room, orientating myself with the layout so I know where I’m going. “I believe that’s my table right there.” Nate and his date are seated there already. “Do you need me to put you in a cab before we part ways?”
Her jaw drops. “And now you’re abandoning me?”
“You mean, you want to stay for dinner? You just got mad at me for trying to make this a date, and now that’s exactly what you want this to be?” Is it totally bad if I kind of want her to want the date? “Which is it, Genny?”
Her eyes flare, I think as much from the nickname as anything else. It’s absolutely adorable.
It’s also absolutely confusing. She’s confusing.
“This is not a date,” she hisses. “I didn’t want or need to be rescued, but now that you’ve created this situation, you have to follow through. What will my father think if I suddenly disappear from tonight’s event? I can’t let him win.”
Yeah, I totally get that.
And shit, now we are in a serious dilemma. I can't do what I've set out to with her along. “Maybe he won’t notice if you slip out,” I say.
Except then I realize that he totally will notice if his daughter goes missing and, more importantly, that she isn't the only deterrent to my evening's agenda because two other people have just arrived at the six-person round where I’m supposed to be sitting, and fuck if it isn’t Edward and Hagan Fasbender.
Looks like it’s going to be one of those nights.
7
There’s no way Hudson knows that the Fasbenders would also be sitting at his table. Not when he’s told me to keep the discussion with Nathan Murphy on the down-low. I have half a mind to text him right now and tell him the whole plan is off.
Except I’m not a quitter.
Also, I don’t want him to give me any reason for cutting the night short. I’m fucked in the head for feeling this way, but I’m actually kind of excited about having an excuse to spend a whole meal with Genny, and yes, I do take the excuse to let her stay. My assigned task is already hindered by her father. I might as well let her hinder it too.
We sit and make the necessary introductions. Nathan is younger than Edward by about ten years and doesn’t look as comfortable in his tux as the Englishman. His wife is young and mousy, and either extremely shy or extremely bored, considering the amount of effort she puts into the table interaction.
To be honest, the early conversation has me stifling a yawn myself. It’s mostly business gossip specific to the media world, a world I know very little about since I’ve only learned today that our company owns shares in the industry. Though I look for opportunities to add to the discussion, I can’t find any.
Genevieve is equally quiet beside me. From the furtive glances I’ve cast in her direction, I’ve noticed her lips are drawn tight, and I decide she’s biting her tongue. Whether it’s because she’s bristling over her father’s earlier remarks or because she’s pissed she had to lean on me for help, I don’t know.
Honestly, it’s probably a little of both.
It gives me smug satisfaction. So much so that I feel totally comfortable stretching my arm out along the back of her chair. God, the way she glares at me. If I thought following the conversation was hard before, it’s even harder now. And I do mean hard. I wish I knew what it was about this girl that makes me so completely turned on and intrigued. The mystery confounds me. I’m as far from understanding her as I am from getting what Hudson’s sent me to this dinner to do.
By the time our salad course is being cleared, I’m antsy. My leg is twitching under the table, my arm tingles from where it brushes against Genny’s shoulder, and I still haven’t found a way to talk covertly to Nathan Murphy when, miracle of miracles, he opens the door for me.
“Any special reason Pierce Industries is representing tonight? Are you guys finally looking to enter the playing field? With the innovative direction you’ve gone recently in the tech world, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that you were.”
Genny straightens in her chair beside me, and I feel all three pairs of the Fasbenders’ eyes move toward me.
This is probably when I should really be feeling the pressure, but it’s just the opposite. Even though I know nothing about the topic, I’m excellent at improvisation. “Haven’t got anything planned that we’re ready to announce,” I say, “but I’m interested in your observations. What sort of role could Pierce Industries take in media?”
I direct the question to Nathan—it’s the perfect opportunity to feel him out like I need to.
Except it’s Hagan who jumps in with an answer. “Easy. Network ownership. You already have the people and talent to start your own programming in either a cable situation or something competitive with Netflix and Amazon.”
I hate to say it, but Hagan Fasbender isn’t exactly the dummy that his sister wishes he were.
His father nods. “All the subscription-based services are focused on entertainment. Pierce Industries could bring news and business programming to the market.”
So Dad’s also a smart one. The two of them piggyback on each other for the next several minutes expounding on their ideas. They’ve obviously thought a lot about this. Their thoughts are well-researched, and it’s not exactly uninteresting.
Okay, it really is. Partly because the male Fasbenders aren’t the ones I want to hear from but also because everything is uninteresting next to the female sitting at my side.
She’s particularly interesting, I realize, when her mind is at work. After listening to her father and brother ramble on and on, she seems to lose her resolve to keep silent and pipes in with her own opinion. “Yes, that’s one possible avenue of expansion,” she says, shaking her head dismissively. “But it’s so narrow in its focus. Pierce Industries has the capability of much loftier objectives, like laying down Internet connections that are on par with Google Fiber.”
“Lofty goals are fun until you have to pay the bill. Remember that, Genevieve.” Edward follows up his patronizing remarks to his daughter with an apology to me. “She’s straight out of school. Hasn’t had a lot of hands-on yet.”
Perhaps it’s because I’m also straight out of school, but I think her plan is really intriguing. “That’s smart, actually. It will take years for Google to spread throughout the nation. There’s definitely an opportunity to step in there. It’s not like Pierce Industries can’t foot that kind of endeavor.” Particularly if Pierce Industries comes out of the dark on its affiliation with Werner Media.
The men at the table take a completely different approach to the idea once I’ve affirmed it, adding supporting commentary and looking on like I’m a wizard of some sort. It’s pathetic. Genny gives me a confused smirk, one that says she’s not sure if she’s grateful for my words or irritated.
It’s so sexy and such fun tormenting her that it makes me want to say more nice things about her ideas. Makes me want to pursue the subject further. Makes me want to lean over and nibble on her earlobe, but that’s probably not the best move I could make.
But laying network fiber…there are so many interesting directions to go from here, and I’m curious whether we could come up with a vision to share with my brother. The wheels start turning.
Until I yank them to a stop. It’s a good idea, but I’m here to find out what Nathan’s good ideas are. And so far I’ve heard practically nothing from the man.
Despite being even more attracted to Genny now that I’ve seen glimpses of her brain, I refocus on Nathan. I try several more times to pull him back into the conversation, but he seems more interested in listening. Maybe he�
�s not as innovative as Hudson thinks he is. Or maybe he’s just not as eager to brag about his ideas.
But then there’s a lull in the conversation, and it’s Nathan who breaks the silence. “Warren Werner’s receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award tonight,” he says. “What do you want to bet he names his successor in his speech? There’s a rumor you’re in line for the job, Edward.”
Edward answers modestly. “If I truly am, Warren’s not announcing it tonight. Because I’ve been made no such offer.”
“Oh really?” Nathan’s eyes widen. “Then the job might still be open. Whoever gets it is a lucky bastard. Imagine being able to helm that company. The magic that could be made. I would die to get my hands on that position.”
Ah! Then he is interested. I shouldn’t have doubted Hudson—his instincts are almost always good. Not that I’m ever telling him that.
But now things have gotten interesting.
Here’s the score—everyone at the table except Nathan and his lovely wife knows that Warren won’t be naming his replacement tonight—or ever, if Pierce Industries doesn’t approve. And pretty much everyone at the table (except Nathan’s lovely wife) is vying for the spot. Which means everyone at the table (including Nathan’s wife because I’ve given her the Chandler grin more than once) is looking at me.
Gotta say it’s a pretty empowering position to be in. Damn, sometimes being a Pierce is pretty fucking bomb.
With the table as my court, I lean back in my chair and ask, “Which direction would you take with Werner Media, Nathan?”
Genny kicks me under the table, and when I glance toward her she mouths, “What are you doing?”
“Making conversation,” I mouth in response and turn back to Nathan.
“But…” Genevieve’s hand falls to my upper thigh. My upper, upper thigh.
My head whips back toward her, and before I can second guess myself, I lean in and whisper, “A little higher and you’ll know exactly how much I’ve been thinking about what’s under your dress.”
Chandler: A Standalone Contemporary Romance Page 7
