Knights of the Boardroom

by Avery Gale

  Tristan vaguely remembered hearing that her father was a successful lobbyist in Washington D.C. but he also recalled that even though the man’s income was certainly substantial, his hedonistic tastes were quite expensive as well. Evidently he didn’t see fit to make sacrifices to help his youngest daughter, and that made Tristan wonder who’d had such a positive influence on Cressida—her sister, perhaps? Even though he’d yet to meet Carli Walker, he was certain her modeling career had to easily pay seven figures, so why didn’t she share the wealth with her younger sibling? Hell, for all he knew, she tried and the prideful little sub sitting across the desk from him refused her sister’s charity.

  Tristan thought back on an incident at T.E.G. late one night not long after Cressi started working in the executive office. She’d grabbed her jacket as she got ready to leave for the day and Brodie had stopped her, insisting they give her a ride home. Tristan had merely assumed his friend was worried about her being vulnerable on the streets at night, but that had only turned out to be a partial truth. Smiling to himself, he remembered how quickly he’d realized Brodie’s interest in Cressida was anything but altruistic. When they’d left her off in front of what Tristan knew was one of the area’s pricier apartment buildings, he’d raised his brow at his friend in question.

  “She lives with her sister, evidently they split the rent.” Brodie’s explanation had been succinct to the point of being borderline rude, but it was also typical of the man he’d known since college so he’d simply shrugged it off. Thinking back on that now, Tristan was even more in awe at how difficult it must have been for her to pull together the money she was now offering to hand over in the hopes of finding the pleasure no woman should ever have to beg for. If she was sharing the expenses for an apartment in that building, it was no doubt swallowing the lion’s share of her income.

  He hadn’t realized how long he’d been silent until he heard her soft sigh of resignation. She’d taken his lack of response as a rejection, but to her credit she obviously wasn’t going to grovel, she’d simply keep her chin up and move on. “Thank you for your time, I won’t keep you any longer. I need to get back to work anyway.”

  When she started to stand, he simply said, “Don’t.” When she froze, he smiled, “I didn’t say we couldn’t accommodate you. Don’t ever equate a Dom’s silence with a positive or negative response, quite often you will discover they are simply considering their options.” Leaning forward, he steepled his fingers and smiled, “I’ll make you a deal.” Her expression was immediately wary and he was torn between wanting to praise her for being cautious and his desire to wrap her in silk before handing her over to his friends as the gift he was certain she was. He’d always been a sucker for women who were a dichotomy of strength and vulnerability, and Ms. Cressida Walker was as close to that as anyone he’d met. She might belong to his friends—even if she wasn’t aware of their claim on her, but that didn’t mean Tristan wasn’t going to enjoy helping her. As the Dom in residence at The Knight’s Club, he not only oversaw the daily operations of the club itself, he also felt a very personal responsibility for the uncollared submissives who were members. He considered them his to protect until they found their own Masters—he wouldn’t give her any less.

  “What kind of a deal?”

  “I’ll waive the fee—give you one month and the opportunity to find what you’re looking for. You’ll work with the two Doms I assign to you and you will do exactly as they tell you. You will use the club’s stoplight system for safe words—something they will explain to you if you haven’t already read about it. If you make it through the month without using your safe word, I’ll personally pay for your first annual membership.”

  She stared at him for long seconds before asking, “And if I fail your challenge?”

  This time he knew his smile would appear as sinister as it was intended, “Poppet, if you fail, I’ll expect you to show up here every Saturday for the next year to receive ten swats. The time and exact circumstances of those punishments will vary—and will always be at my discretion and convenience. Consider it my way of implementing the expressions you Americans seem to love so much—because, your ass will indeed be mine.”

  Chapter Three

  Brodie pounded his fist so hard on the desk holding the bank of monitors several of them blinked in response to the jolt. “Goddammit, Walsh, if you take out these new monitors, their replacements are coming out of the legal department’s budget.” Parker shot him an icy glare but the threat was hollow and they both knew it. Hell, the club had technology that would probably make most Swiss banks and Interpol swoon, and knowing Parker, there were probably a room full of back up monitors in the storeroom. Watching Tristan Harris slowly paint the woman he and Law had wanted more than their next breath into a corner was pushing his patience beyond the breaking point.

  “Fuck you, Parker. Tell your partner in crime to stop dancing the mental mambo with our admin and I’ll stop pounding on your fucking cheap ass desk. Where’d you buy this thing anyway—one of those import shacks down at the port? Christ, man—buy some damned American-made, solid wood furniture.” He leaned down closer to the screen, studying every nuance of Cressida’s body language and tuning out Lawton’s soft chuckle beside him.

  He and Law had both been blown away by Cressida Walker from the first moment she walked into their offices to interview for the position they’d reluctantly posted with a small employment agency. They’d interviewed so many candidates he’d wanted to pull his hair out in pure frustration, and he’d threatened to fire their human resources director if she didn’t find someone qualified for the position. The old bitty had stuck her pointy nose in the air and pointed out they’d rejected over fifty qualified applicants before storming from the room. When he’d grumbled to Lawton the woman had a serious attitude problem and betting her lips weren’t the only thing pinched and puckered, his longtime friend and business partner had burst out laughing.

  Lawton Hill was one of the most brilliant men Brodie had ever met—he was also one of the most focused. Their friendship had been cemented almost from the first moment they met as Harvard undergrads despite their completely divergent personalities. Lawton not only avoided ‘thinking inside the box’ like it was the Black Plague, Brodie was fairly certain his friend had completely forgotten there even was a box.

  Brodie on the other hand understood the rules of engagement and felt strongly about how they should be applied in every scenario. Following the rules meant everyone knew exactly where they stood and kept things orderly. Despite Lawton’s insistence that rules stifled creativity, Brodie found the chaos that often surrounded Lawton to be a debilitating distraction.

  Brodie watched Cressida squirm in her seat and smiled, damn she was so beautiful, and the pink tinge of embarrassment coloring her cheeks made him want to strip her and begin her training right now. They’d known she was submissive, but they hadn’t been aware of her interest in the lifestyle, nor had he missed Parker zooming in the camera when Tristan had hastily scribbled a note during his chat with Cressi. The screen flickered just before the printer to his right spewed out an enlarged copy of the note. Looking down at what Tristan had written, ‘lk @ her e-rdr’ in the margin of the application she’d completed, Brodie knew immediately what the other man had been trying to say. Hell, most third graders would have gotten the hint by now. He’d caught Cressi’s reference to reading erotic romances and Tristan’s quick glance toward one of the cameras at her words, ensuring they’d noted their significance. It might not have occurred to him to scan the titles of her reading list without her remark about the intense connections felt by the women in her books, but he wasn’t exactly in need of a remedial lesson in snooping either. Damn arrogant Brit.

  Brodie couldn’t hold back his laughter, and when Parker looked over his shoulder in question, he just shook his head. They could discuss in detail later, right now he didn’t want to miss any of the conversation that was taking place down the hall. Brodie loved his
friends, the fact they were all so different was probably a large part of what kept them fused together so tightly as a group. And to be honest, if any of them had cause to be arrogant, it was Tristan Harris. His ties to the royal family were certainly close enough to have earned him bragging rights, but the truth of the matter was, Tristan was one of the most humble men he’d ever met. Lawton leaned toward Brodie and spoke quietly, “He better be setting us up as her Doms or I’m going to kick his lily-white royal ass.” Brodie’s snort of laughter echoed Parker’s—it would be a cold day in hell when Lawton beat Tristan in a takedown. Why a member of the upper echelons of British society felt the need to train in multiple martial arts disciplines was a mystery to Brodie. Tristan had already earned his black belt by the time he’d arrived at Harvard, and he’d continued to train—consistently beating his friends until they’d finally refused to even go to the gym with him.

  “He’s setting you up—I can guarantee it, we’re both tired of watching you two pussies dance around her. But be ready, because I’m betting the deal he’s going to offer her is going to be an all or nothing opportunity. You’re going to get one shot here, boys—you’d better make it count.” Brodie and Law both nodded solemnly. He knew they wouldn’t start tonight—no, they needed a plan. They’d been debating for two years about the best way to broach this subject with her, and he didn’t want to even consider about how close they’d come to missing this opportunity.

  *****

  Lawton’s heart had nearly stopped when he’d taken the call from Tristan this morning. He and Brodie had planned to take the afternoon off after wrapping up one of the most financially lucrative contract negotiations of their careers—the preliminary talks had seemed endless and they’d earned a few hours downtime. But listening as Tristan recounted Cressi’s call and knowing she wanted to meet the man who managed the club about a limited-time membership had shocked him clear to his toes. Knowing she was interested in joining The Knight’s Club almost seemed too good to be true—and maybe that was what set off all his internal alarms. Sure, the situation appeared to be playing out perfectly, but what if things didn’t work out? Would she walk away from Templar Enterprises? Losing her as a sexual partner would hurt and losing her as their executive assistant would really suck, but losing her as a friend, now that would be devastating.

  Cressi Walker might not realize it, but he and Brodie had claimed her as their own the minute she walked into their offices. Her smile literally lit up the room, and both he and Brodie had felt an immediate sexual attraction to her. He’d actually considered not hiring her, despite her obvious qualifications, in order to avoid any semblance of sexual harassment. But when he’d asked her what her plans were if she didn’t get the job, he’d seen a flash of pain and defeat move through her expression. It had appeared between one blink and the next of her pretty green eyes, and for a few seconds he hadn’t been sure if the look had really been there or if he’d imagined it because she’d masked it so fast. The speed at which she recovered made him wonder how many times she’d been forced to push her disappointment to the side—the skill looked far too practiced to him.

  She’d taken a deep breath and then almost mechanically explained that she would be forced to move back to Washington D.C. because she was out of money. Her sister’s modeling career was just taking off, and there wasn’t enough room in Carli’s efficiency apartment for both women long term. Knowing they wouldn’t have any chance at all if she left the city, the decision was made and she’d been hired later that same day.

  Law was already planning various ways to bind Cressida to them so tightly she’d never want to walk away. He’d let Brodie worry about writing the contract Tristan would surely insist was in place before they started training her. Lawton knew without a doubt Brodie would write a contract that would give them ample opportunities to prove how perfect they could be together. There would be plenty of obstacles to overcome, but his biggest concern was losing her. What if they lost themselves in her and then she walked away? Law had never put any credence in the old saying about having been better to loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Quite frankly, that was total rubbish in his view—he couldn’t think of anything worse than experiencing the joy he was sure they’d find with Cressida only to have it snatched away. He wasn’t sure how they’d convince her that a polyamorous relationship would work—hell, he wasn’t really sure how it would work long term. He’d seen them work, but he and Brodie hadn’t ever found a woman they had even considered making that commitment with, so they’d yet to have a trial run. The only thing he did know was he wanted to try—actually, Law wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted anything more.

  Listening as Tristan set out the parameters of his “deal”, Law hadn’t been convinced she was going to agree until he heard his friend say, “Odd—from what I’d heard and observed, I wouldn’t have thought you a coward, Cressida.” Holy shit, did he really just throw that down?

  Even over the speakers Law heard her sharp intake of breath, “Oh don’t you even try that nonsense with me. I may not be able to back away from a dare my sister slaps me upside the head with, but you need to know right now I recognize stone-cold manipulation when I come up against it. Cripes, have you ever met my father? Seriously, you could take lessons from him on this front. I’m not sure there is another man in the world more skilled in the finer points of out-come engineering. That’s what he calls his version of the storm tactics you just tried to use, just FYI. Talk about your total PCBS package. Damn, he makes Brodie Walsh look like a pushover and I think we both know how absurd that is.” The first time Lawton heard her use the acronym PCBS she had rolled her eyes at his blank look informing him that what he’d just said was politically correct bullshit and she was calling foul. He didn’t remember what he’d said to her, only how overjoyed he’d been knowing she’d felt secure enough to stand up to him. One of the asides of being the boss and wealthy was how difficult it was to find people brave enough to challenge him, in the business world that sort of feedback was vital for success. In his line of work, if you aren’t continually being tested you lost your edge very quickly.

  Law laughed as he rolled his eyes at the smug look on Brodie’s face, but Parker was the one who responded, “Damn, man, you need to get that look of self-satisfaction off your face. She just called you a manipulator, dumbass.”

  “Well, I am a manipulative, bastard. The part I like knowing is that she is aware I’m no pushover, that will serve us well during the next month.” Personally Lawton thought his friend was missing the point, but it simply wasn’t worth discussing. “Parker, can you send a copy of this to us? And I mean a copy of all security footage since she first walked in the door?” Fuck me, he’s going to analyze this frame by frame—I’ll spend hours being drilled on each and every detail no matter how insignificant. Law knew he was equally focused in his own work, there wasn’t a piece of minutia he wouldn’t grind into dust if he thought it could be improved upon, but he’d never considered interpersonal relationships a topic to be studied that closely.

  Brodie looked over at him and shrugged, “I know what you’re thinking—and maybe it is overkill. But I’m not willing to take any chances, hell, even you have to know this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. We won’t get another chance with Cressida if we let her slip through our fingers, she’ll be lost to us forever—and not only as a lover, but as a friend.” For the first time in years, there was actually a look of vulnerability in Brodie’s eyes. Not many people knew there was a tattered soul inside the ruthless legal wolf who protected the legal interests of Templar Enterprises Group. He was one of the most loyal friends Lawton had, but he was also a formidable enemy—Lawton had seen Brodie shred some of Wall Street’s shrewdest legal advisors without even breaking a sweat.

  Watching Brodie study the tape was akin to watching a predator study its prey. He didn’t have a doubt in the world Brodie would assign meaning to each word Cressida had spoken, each breath she’d taken, and each time s
he’d blinked her eyes since she’d walked into The Knight’s Club. Not an angle he wouldn’t consider, mentally tallying the pros and cons of every response they might initiate if faced with a similar situation. When they’d first formed T.E.G., Brodie’s insistence they rehearse via role-play before each and every negotiation had almost driven Law, Parker, and Tristan to distraction. They’d threatened to throw him off the Brooklyn Bridge more than once—but the results had been undeniable. They hadn’t encountered a single “worst case” scenario they hadn’t already walked through. Their competitors had fallen to the side one by one until the four of them had stormed the gates of the billionaire boys club. Laughing to himself, he remembered Brodie informing them he wasn’t content to being a member of the damned BBC—he planned to take over the snobby elitist bastards perched atop the city’s social ladder.

  Brodie had done exactly as he’d said he would and he’d taken his three friends with him, negotiating contracts that ensured their financial security for not only the rest of their own lives but for the next several generations as well. Individually they were on the short list of the city’s most eligible bachelors, but as a group, they were referred to as The Knights of the Boardroom. There wasn’t a social function they weren’t invited to, a charity that didn’t beg for their support, or a politician who hadn’t tried to be photographed with them. The only part of their lives they’d managed to keep largely out of the public eye was their sexual predilections. Brodie’s quick response to the few insinuations made in the media had gone a long way to discourage other reporters from making similar assertions—no matter how veiled their references. As the most visible and public face of Templar Enterprises Group, Lawton tried to remain as above reproach as possible, but it was familiar territory for him because his parents had always stressed the importance of keeping his public and personal lives separated. Neither his mother nor his father had pulled any punches—explaining how their families had worked for generations to amass fortunes only to have the foundations of their wealth nearly shaken apart by scandal after scandal until they finally mastered what his mother referred to as their public persona nightmare. His father had been far less eloquent, simply saying things had been smooth sailing since the old farts yanked their heads out of their asses and stopped waving their wankers around in the breeze.