“Lauren, I’d prefer not to talk about my father, if you don’t mind.”
Her forehead creased, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. “We have a meeting tonight.”
“Tonight?” I scratched my jaw, the stubble pricking my fingers. I had just shaved off my beard the other day, but damn did my facial hair grow fast. When I had showed up to the office on Monday in jeans, a T-shirt, and a full beard, the looks I got . . . well, I decided I’d better look the right part. And so I’d shaved, bought some suits, and have been trying to trick everyone into believing I actually belonged.
“We have a meeting with Declan Reid at The Phoenix.”
“The Phoenix?” I shook my head. “Why do I have a meeting at a nightclub?” I reached for my coffee but noticed Lauren’s gaze on my chest.
Did I have a stain? I looked down, adjusted my red tie, and checked my white dress shirt. Nope, everything looked good.
“Sorry, what was I saying?” She blew out a breath and forced a tight-lipped smile. “Your father was in the midst of a major business deal with Declan Reid. Did you want me to cancel?”
I thought about it for a moment, trying to filter through the barrage of facts in my brain. Had I heard of Declan Reid before? For some reason, the name sounded vaguely familiar. “No. I’ll go.” I couldn’t help but picture my father at a club. The thought was almost funny enough to help me forgive him. Well, not really.
“Did my father always do his business at nightclubs?” I joked.
She smirked. “Declan owns The Phoenix and many other companies, but he preferred meeting with your father at his club and at night.”
“In the Meatpacking district, right? I thought that place was on the verge of closing down years ago.”
“It was, but Declan turned it around. It’s always packed with models, actors, and trust fund babies. A great place to people watch.”
“Sounds weird to meet at the club, but okay.” I sipped my black coffee—the third of the day.
She stood up. “Meeting’s at eleven. My car’s in the shop. Mind picking me up?”
“Eleven?” Was she serious?
“Yeah.” A smile teased her lips. “I’ll text you my address. See you tonight.”
I waited for her to leave, before I rested my elbows on my desk, and pressed my hands to my face. God, I was going to lose my mind if I kept at this much longer.
Chapter Four
Olivia
Various shades of light ping-ponged off the walls in the club as the music poured through the speakers. The DJ waved his arms around, moving to his music. Whatever happened to the days when DJs spun vinyl?
Leaning against the bar closest to the dance floor, I shut my eyes and tried to seal out the sounds of the music I had once loved. I’d managed to avoid listening to it for almost ten years.
But it was hard to ignore the loud thumping base. The DJ was pulling off a unique blend of talent—Maroon 5 and Tiesto, maybe? God, did I want to dance. But not only was I working, I hadn’t moved my feet to music since—
A sharp, stabbing pain pricked the walls of my chest, deflating me of the oxygen I desperately needed in the hot crowd. No, I couldn’t think about that. I’d never survive this job if I let my memories haunt me every time I came into work.
It had been a little over three weeks since I began my new job with Declan. It was much better than being at the office, but I still didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere.
“Olivia, can we talk?”
It was Declan. “Sure.” I followed him out of the main room of the club, down a long hallway, and into his private and absurdly lavish office. I’m not sure if Declan thought he was Hugh Hefner, but there were two women in his office, decorative fixtures in tight, revealing getups. Then there were the two metal cages he had set up in the corners of his office. Did this place turn into some kind of DOM club after hours?
My skin flushed, like it always did, every time I walked across the red carpet and past his two, um, ladies to sit in front of his desk.
It was all just very . . . odd.
I cleared my throat and tried to focus.
“Veronica. Summer. We need some privacy.” Declan slid into the seat behind his modern black desk, and the two women sauntered out of the room in their death trap heels. The one called Summer pulled the door closed.
“I have a meeting tonight.” Declan lifted his iPhone from the desk and used his thumb to unlock it. “There’s a big deal I’ve been working on, which pertains to Reid Enterprises, but we usually meet here instead.” He tapped at his smartphone and slid it away before focusing his dark eyes on mine.
“Okay.” What was he expecting me to say?
“I need you to sign something.”
I reached for the paper he slid across the desk. A non-disclosure agreement. “What is this about?”
“Anything you may hear at this meeting must never be shared with anyone. The information is sensitive. Classified, even.” He leaned back in his leather chair and clasped his hands against his chest.
“I would never share anything about my job, anyway.”
“Of course not. Nevertheless, I need you to sign this.”
“Sure,” I managed and grabbed a pen from his desk. “Who are you meeting?”
He scratched the back of his head and narrowed his eyes at me. “Actually, the man I was working with died of a heart attack a few weeks ago.” There was a slight pause and a twitch to his lips. “I’ll be meeting his predecessor tonight.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, is there anything I need to do to help prepare for the meeting?” I fiddled with the pen in my hand.
“No.” He reached for the paper I’d signed. “You probably won’t be in on the meeting, actually. You could serve us drinks, though.”
I dropped the pen and shot him a look. “So, why did I need to sign—”
He held up his hand, stopping me. “In case you overhear anything. Or, if the deal is resumed, as I hope it is, I might bring you in. Just covering my bases.”
“Sounds good.”
“You’ve been dying to ask me about those for weeks.” A smile skirted his lips. “Go ahead.”
I must have squinted in some lame attempt to act like I had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m sorry, what?” I stood.
He glanced over his shoulder at one of the metal cages. “You sure you don’t want to ask?” His eyes were back on me, assessing me.
“Nope, I’m good. Let me know if you need me for your meeting.”
“Have Bobby make three gin and tonics. The meeting starts in five minutes.” He smoothed a hand over his black dress shirt.
“Of course.”
I left the office, walked down the hall, and made my way to the main bar on the ground floor. It was massive in size with a sleek wall of glass behind it, allowing the light in the room to reflect off it. “Hey, Bobby. Boss needs three gin and tonics,” I hollered over the noise as I pressed my hands on the sticky counter.
“You’re looking good tonight.” Bobby’s brown eyes focused on me as he poured the gin.
He was always flirting, even though he was probably two or three years younger. I wondered how much those years mattered, now that I was one year away from thirty.
I shifted uncomfortably in my heels and rubbed my neck, trying to ease my tension.
“Are we on for tomorrow?” He placed the drinks on a tray.
“Yeah. See you at eight?”
“Make it ten. I need my sleep. I work until four, unlike you.”
“Nine,” I negotiated and grabbed the tray. I turned away from the bar, and my heart started pounding hard in my chest. The tray slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor.
I stood stupidly, just staring. My lips parted, my hands still outstretched. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
A fist of pain clawed at my chest.
“Liv?” Bobby came around from behind the bar and knelt down to pick up the broken glass.
I barely noticed the splash of cold
, sticky alcohol that had run over my high heels.
“Olivia? You okay?” Bobby stood in front of me now, blocking . . . him. HIM. Oh my God. This couldn’t be happening.
And then he saw me. His eyes narrowed in, and a look of shock—no, dread—curled its way over his face.
“Olivia? Talk to me.” Bobby was snapping his fingers in front of my face.
I shook my head. “What?” I shifted my attention to Bobby. “Yeah, I just—I don’t know what happened.” I kneeled down to help clean the mess before any of the customers slipped.
A pair of black loafers stopped in front of me. I pulled my gaze up the dark denim jeans to the trim waist and up to the hard chest—a chest I’d touched so many times before.
His hand was on my arm. He was helping me up.
No. Goddamn him. No.
I sucked in a breath as I lurched back to my feet, but his hand was still placed on my arm, like it had any business there . . .
“Olivia.”
God, the sound of my name on his lips still had the same old effect. Chills and heat all at the same time. I swallowed, pulled my arm away, and forced myself to look up into his soft green eyes.
“Connor.”
He raked a hand through his freaking perfect brown hair—as always, it had that sweet, just-fucked look. Damn him. He focused on my lips for a moment and drifted back up to meet my eyes.
“Hi, I’m Lauren.”
I hadn’t even noticed the woman standing next to him. “Hi.”
“You two know each other?” The woman glanced in Connor’s direction.
No sound escaped his lips. A flash of a memory pushed forth in my mind—his mouth on my neck, trailing kisses down my body. Heat shot between my legs.
No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.
“Um,” I finally forced out a word, but I wasn’t sure what I said. Was it English?
Since Connor seemed to have no intention of speaking, and I was tongue-tied, the brunette to his left spoke up. “Do you work here?”
I think I moved my head up and down, but I couldn’t be sure. I still couldn’t take my eyes off Connor, and he had yet to rip his heated gaze from my face.
“We have a meeting with Declan.”
Her words had me snapping my attention in her direction. “Oh. Okay.” Oh my God, that must mean . . . “Did your father—”
“Yes,” was all he afforded me, and his mouth tightened.
“So, you’re running the company now?”
He nodded. Clearly he had no desire to talk, which suited me just fine. I didn’t want to talk to him, either. “Follow me. Mr. Reid’s expecting you.” I turned my back, but I could feel his eyes on me.
When I showed him to Declan’s office, the two blonde playboy wannabes shifted their attention to him with the fury of hungry tigers. Had they both just wet their lips?
Connor didn’t seem to notice. He was still looking at me.
“I’ll just get you all something to drink.” I stole one last glance at Connor out of the corner of my eye and moved past him to the doorway.
On the other side, I shut the door and leaned forward, pressing my hands against my bare knees. I couldn’t breathe. Memories came hurtling back at me until I thought I might throw up.
Chapter Five
Connor
Ten years. It had been ten years since I’d seen Olivia. She was one of the reasons—hell, the main reason—I detested New York. And there she was, looking better than I ever remembered.
How in the hell was I supposed to sit through a business meeting after having seen her? No—I needed to get out of there.
But if I rescheduled, I’d probably have to see her again.
“You okay, Connor?”
Lauren was staring at me. It didn’t take a genius to see the wall of tension in the room.
As I beat back the burning sensation that had crept into my chest, the man diverted my attention to the two half-naked women in the room.
“Ladies?” He cocked his head, and they started for the exit.
Declan was probably trying to communicate something with their presence, but I really couldn’t have cared less.
“I’m Connor Matthews.” I forced myself to get a grip and shook the man’s hand.
“Declan Reid. Nice to meet you.” Declan paused and cleared his throat. “My condolences about your father. He was a good man.”
My hand dropped to my side, and I studied the man before me. He wasn’t what I was expecting. He was young—probably younger than me. And there was an edginess to him, to his rocker-dark hair and the slim line of makeup beneath his eyes. I couldn’t imagine my father sitting in this office.
“Hi, Declan, good to see you again.” Lauren reached for his hand. “Oh shit,” she moaned. “I left my clutch in your Jeep.”
“I’ll get it,” I volunteered.
She placed her hand on top of mine. “No, you stay. The valet can just pull up your Jeep for me. No biggie.”
“Okay.” I handed her my valet ticket as Declan motioned for me to have a seat in front of the desk. He took a seat next to me as Lauren clicked the door closed behind her.
“Thank you for meeting with me, especially given the circumstances,” Declan said.
I nodded and heard the door opening.
It was her. It was Olivia. My pulse quickened.
“Come on in,” Declan called as she stood inside the door frame, holding a tray.
Was Olivia really working for this guy? It was a far stretch from what she had planned in college. What had her life been like for the last ten years?
I looked away. I had to focus on something else—anything else.
Were those cages?
“Your drinks, Declan.”
I fought like hell not to steal a look at her legs as she walked past, but the temptation was too damn hard. The memory of her legs wrapped around my hips—God, we had been so young.
She placed the drinks on the desk and ran a hand through her long chocolate brown hair. Her hair had been as soft and fine as silk. The feel of her hair on my fingers as I kissed her . . . shit.
I swallowed as my eyes met hers—they still had the same flecks of gold among the green.
“Do you need anything else?” Olivia focused on Declan.
“This is Connor Matthews.” Declan tipped his head in my direction.
She took a step closer to me, and I could smell her sweet perfume. “Hi. I’m Olivia Taylor.”
Taylor? Was that a married name? I didn’t see a ring. Maybe she was divorced.
“Hi,” I managed as I took her hand and released it just as fast.
She stepped back and bumped into the desk. Her cheeks reddened slightly beneath her bronzed skin.
Declan’s eyes became thin slits on Olivia. “Do you know each other?”
Did she want him to know? I’d let her take the lead on this, but it would come out at some point. She had basically admitted to knowing me in front of Lauren, already.
“We both went to NYU. It’s been awhile.” She blew out a barely noticeable breath, but I noticed it . . . anything she did with her mouth was obvious to me. “Anything else?”
Clasping his hands on his lap, he shook his head no.
Once the door shut behind her, Declan said, “She’s quite something, huh?” He crossed his leg over his knee. “So, I’m sure you have some questions.”
That was an understatement. I had a lot of questions, but honestly, at the end of the day, I wasn’t sure if I even cared who he was or what he did. The gig was short-term, after all. Perhaps I could get by without having to deal with him. But no—I was there for my brother. I wouldn’t leave a wreck on his hands.
“You and I are very much alike. I took over my father’s businesses a few years back. Unfortunately, Reid Enterprises was on the brink of bankruptcy. Everything from the factories to this very club was near closing.”
I toyed with the black band on my watch. “And you turned it around?” I was doing my best to fo
cus on what Declan was saying, but thoughts of Olivia kept infiltrating my brain.
Declan nodded. “It wasn’t easy—I’ll be honest. It required me to make some deals I wasn’t a fan of, at first. But everything happens for a reason, and now look at me.” He opened his arms, palms up, gesturing . . . to what? His office? What an incredible narcissist.
“You must be wondering about your father’s business relationship with me.” Declan rolled up his sleeves, exposing a black cross on one forearm and a skull on the other.
“Not really. I looked into your company—you guys bid on projects in the Middle East to help with the rebuilding efforts. The technology from our company would be of value to such projects, given our specialty in military-grade weapons design and manufacturing.” I cleared my throat, and one of the cages caught my eye again. So weird. “I guess I’m just curious why you two would meet at your club and at night.”
He stood and walked around behind his desk. “Not too long ago, your father was concerned for the future of his company. He was being outbid on defense contracts by the bigger guys, and he needed a big play to keep the company afloat. Matthews Tech is relatively a small fish in the game, but I have some influence in the Middle East, and so we began helping each other out. But our deals required some level of discretion if you will.” He leaned forward to press his hands on the back of his leather chair. “How familiar are you with your father’s business?”
Was this guy about to school me on my father’s company? “I’m still learning,” I admitted. “My brother will be taking over in five months. I’m just doing my best to keep the status quo until he takes the reins.”
His lips quirked a little, but he didn’t quite smile. “Totally understand. But, if you want to keep the business thriving, I’d suggest that you and I continue the relationship your father and I started.”
And what kind of relationship was that? Before I had a chance to probe, I heard the sound of the door opening, and my heart lodged in my throat.
But it wasn’t Olivia.
Lauren. Shit, I’d forgotten all about her.
“Miss me?” She moved with slow steps to where I sat.
Declan nodded at her and gestured to the drinks on his desk. She slipped the valet ticket into my hand before reaching for a glass.
Buried Lies Page 3
