Against All Odds (A Brook Brothers Novel Book 2)

by Tracie Delaney

  The sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs had her glancing over her shoulder.

  “That’ll be Cole. My twin.”

  A replica of the man sitting in front of her appeared. His hair was a tad shorter and his beard slightly longer than Calum’s, but the eyes were just as absorbing.

  “What a crap shift,” Cole said, dropping his bag at the foot of the stairs. “Two shootings, one domestic assault that made me want to rip the guy’s arms out of his sockets, and an attempted rape on a sixteen-year-old. Sixteen, for Christ’s sake. What the hell is wrong with this god-awful society?”

  A shiver stole over her at the mention of the attempted rape, but as Cole spotted her and smiled, the feeling receded. There was a warmth about Calum’s twin that drew her in and somehow made her feel safe. Very different from how she felt about Calum, which, even on good days, bordered on murderous.

  “Sorry, bro. Didn’t realize you had company.”

  “This is Laurella Ricci,” Calum said.

  Cole’s eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into his hairline. His reaction told her he’d definitely heard of her, which added credence to Jax’s earlier comments. The thought that Calum had spoken about her with his family was oddly thrilling.

  Cole recovered quickly, and he thrust out his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He winked at Calum, who rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Laurella waited for Cole to leave before she turned her attention back to Calum. “When you said twin, I expected some differences, but you really are identical.”

  “Almost.” Calum pointed to the faint silver scar under his left eye. “A fight in high school. Guy wore a ring. Hurt like a bitch. Other than that, yeah, we’re pretty identical physically. Best way to tell us apart, though, is to remember that I’m the asshole and Cole’s the nice one. That is, unless someone he cares about needs protecting. Then he has a hell of a dark side. It’s probably what makes him such a great cop.”

  “I don’t envy him that job.” She turned away and walked toward the stairs.

  Calum caught up to her. “You’re leaving?”

  She nodded. “I got what I came for.”

  Was that a tinge of disappointment that crossed his face? She couldn’t work the guy out. One minute, he was spoiling for a fight, and the next, he seemed loath to let her go.

  “I’ll get you a cab,” he said.

  She shifted the weight of her memory book. “I can get my own cab, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.” He folded his arms like a sullen teenager.

  She suppressed a grin. She’d been right about Calum liking to be in charge. Well, too bad for him, because so did she. And she’d definitely won that round, even though he’d probably deny it.

  Leaving Calum sulking, she jogged upstairs. As she crossed the main hallway, she caught Jax’s eye and returned his friendly wave. Outside, she flagged down a passing cab.

  As they pulled away from the curb, something made her look out the backseat window. Her breath caught in her throat. Calum was standing with his shoulder propped up against the wall outside the hotel, an unreadable expression on his face. He might not have argued with her getting her own transportation home, yet he’d still made sure she’d done so safely.

  A warm feeling stirred in her chest. She turned back around, rested her head on the window, and smiled.

  Chapter 12

  A couple of weeks later, Calum stepped into the boardroom and took his seat on Zane’s left. Laurella hadn’t sat there, apart from that very first meeting. He wasn’t sure whether it was out of a growing respect for him professionally—even if she couldn’t stand him personally—or because she couldn’t be bothered with the ensuing argument. He didn’t care either way. He still chalked this up as a minor victory. Yeah, he was that much of a dick, as those who knew him well would testify.

  Since their last sparring match—which he begrudgingly conceded she’d won—on the night he’d taken her memory book, he’d found his mind turning to the fiery Italian more and more. Lesser women would have buckled under the pressure of what he’d put her through, but Laurella seemed to thrive on the conflict he had purposely created. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he was falling more and more under her spell as the weeks went by, and despite his cruel and unusual punishment in Chicago, they’d begun to rub along without too much bickering.

  Calum watched the door every time it opened, a flutter of excitement ending in disappointment when the person who entered wasn’t her. When she finally walked into the boardroom, he got a full-on punch in the gut. She was wearing a soft gray silk dress that clung to every single curve. It rose high on the neck and fell well below the knee. She’d topped it off with a pair of black patent-leather high heels that made her calves as slender as a thoroughbred horse. Her trusty notebook was clutched in her left hand, the Montblanc pen attached to the back cover.

  Calum had always been more attracted to obvious women. He’d never subscribed to the argument that it was better to keep the goods hidden. He preferred to see what he was getting to make sure it was worth the effort. But Laurella’s classy style made him question his preferences. He liked the fact she kept her assets hidden, that her boobs weren’t constantly spilling over the top of a dress cut too low. Maybe her classiness came from her Mediterranean roots. Weren’t Italians known for their style and fashion sense?

  She caught him checking her out, and a soft smile inched across her lips. She pulled out the seat directly opposite and smoothed her hands under her dress before sitting. Her gaze moved to his. Pleasure rushed through him as those dark-chocolate eyes almost stripped him bare.

  “Okay, shall we start?” Zane said, oblivious to the fact that his sales director was surreptitiously trying to rearrange his junk under the table.

  They followed their usual agenda. Calum barely paid attention. He’d already been through the deck. But when it was Laurella’s turn to speak, he sat up in his chair, his eyes refocusing, his ears on full alert.

  And that was when World War III broke out.

  It all started so well. Two of the contacts from the conference had come through and had told her they intended to place large orders. It remained to be seen whether their promises turned into hard cash, but the fact they’d called her, without her having to chase, was a positive sign. She went through a campaign she’d designed, alongside the new branding the board had signed off on the previous week. It looked good—a real step in the right direction.

  “There is one more thing,” she said, her gaze falling on his. She seemed almost apologetic. “I don’t think you’re going to be happy, Calum. But please, hear me out.”

  His skin prickled, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t like the sound of this already—and she hadn’t told him what was going on yet.

  “Let’s hear it, then,” he said, giving her a tight smile.

  “I think we should remove the exclusivity from the raspberry gin you gave to Haltons when the contract comes up for renewal next week.”

  He straightened in his chair. Haltons was one of their big clients. Rob Halton owned a string of cocktail bars across the US. He purchased in huge quantities, albeit at a very preferential discounted rate. But still…

  “And why would we do that?” His tone might have been bland, but his stare was cool.

  She got the message loud and clear, squirming under his intense scrutiny. She’d avoided coming to him with this because she knew he’d be pissed, choosing instead to share it at the weekly board meeting, where she knew he’d be more likely to temper his reaction. When would the damned woman learn?

  “I’ve been warming up a couple of potential clients. They like the product. I get the feeling they’d place huge recurring orders and at a better price than Haltons currently enjoys.”

  “You have a ‘feeling’?” Calum said, using air quotes to press his point home. “Come back when your feelings are facts, sweetheart.”

  Her lips pressed into a firm line, and
she glared at him across the table. “I didn’t say I had a feeling, I said I get the feeling. Please don’t twist my words, Calum.”

  “Sounds the same to me,” he snapped.

  “Well, it would to you. Because you don’t damn well listen.”

  Calum rose to his feet and slammed his fist on the table. Everyone jumped—except her. He leaned menacingly forward, rage burning through his veins. “When you stop pissing all over my territory, I might start to listen a bit more. Your job is to find the leads. My job is to talk to potential clients.”

  She folded her arms. “Pissing on your territory? I suppose an analogy to a dog suits you perfectly.”

  “Now, now, children,” Zane said, his eyes crinkling as he grinned. “As much as I love the Laurella-and-Calum show that has turned into a regular feature at these board meetings, let’s keep it friendly.”

  Their chief financial officer sniggered, while their IT director looked out the window, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

  “Perhaps if you’d talked to me about this first before bringing it up in front of everyone, we could have had a sensible chat. When will you learn, Laurella?”

  Her eyes flashed with defiance. “Learn?” She snorted. “I doubt there’s much to learn from you, unless annoying the hell of out of people ever becomes useful in the world of business.”

  “I see my control over this boardroom is rocking it today,” Zane said, using his usual relaxed style in an attempt to keep things calm. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You two”—he poked his finger at each of them in turn—“are going to make a decision on the right approach. Only when you’re both in agreement will I listen to any more of this.”

  “Zane—”

  “But—”

  Zane’s hand shot into the air. “I don’t want to hear another word. I suggest you both take this discussion off the premises. Go for a drink, a meal, somewhere neutral where killing one another would have too many witnesses for either of you to get away with it.”

  The CFO gave another snigger. Calum shot him a glare, but all that did was make the man’s grin wider.

  Laurella let out a resigned sigh and got to her feet. “I have some things to do, but I could make myself free in an hour.” She looked over at Calum, her eyes hard, a stark contrast to the way they’d stroked him at the start of the meeting. “If you can?”

  “No, I can’t. But I’m free tonight,” he said, surprising himself as much as her. Even though they’d had yet another falling-out, he didn’t want a rushed lunch before they both had meetings to get to. He wanted to take his time, to spar at length. Because if his rock-hard cock told him anything, it was that sparring with Laurella turned him on more than any other woman had ever managed.

  Laurella’s forehead wrinkled. Then she nodded curtly. “Fine. Let me know when and where.” With a smile for the other board members and a scowl for him, she picked up her notebook and pen and left the room.

  When Calum went to follow, Zane stopped him. “Thanks, folks,” he said to the rest of the team. Chairs scraped backward as one by one the other board members left the room. Once they were alone, Zane pointed to a chair. “Sit down.”

  Calum reluctantly obeyed. “Whatever you’re about to say, save it.” He leaned back and laced his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. “We’ve been getting along better recently. After the Ben Davies debacle, she agreed she’d talk to me about this kind of shit first.” He made eye contact with Zane. “And then she goes and does this. The woman infuriates me more than any other person I’ve ever met.”

  Zane thoughtfully tapped his forefinger against his lips. “You want her,” he stated bluntly. “Your arguments suggest intense sexual frustration rather than a mere disagreement about the way each of you does business. And if her responses are anything to go by, I’d say the attraction is mutual.”

  Calum chewed on his bottom lip. He and Zane had always been completely honest with each other. He wasn’t about to start lying to his best friend now.

  “You’re right. I do want her. Although more often than not, I’d like to put her across my knee and give her a good, hard spanking.”

  “Same outcome.” Zane laughed. “Look, what you get up to in your own time is your business, but you two have got to work this out. I don’t care whether that’s done in the boardroom or the bedroom. You’re both fantastic assets to Necron, and if I could just get you to work together, I think we’d have world domination in our sights.”

  Calum expelled a breath. “I can’t even say it’s all me. Honestly, that woman gives as good as she gets.”

  Zane chuckled. “I know. Like I said, we all get the show at the weekly board meeting.”

  Calum’s lips twitched. “Good thing my boss is so laid-back he’s horizontal.”

  “He’s also your best friend who wouldn’t want you any other way. Your forthright persona is what makes you, you. If you’re going to stab someone, it sure as hell won’t be in the back. They’ll see that blade coming from a mile off.”

  “True enough.” Calum rose from his chair. “Wish me luck tonight.”

  Zane grinned and gestured with a flick of his wrist. “Get out of here.”

  Calum unfastened the button on his single-breasted jacket and straightened his tie. He’d considered going casual, but as his strategy that evening was going to be all business, the sensible choice was a suit and tie. He had made one decision, though: the time had come for them to work through their shit once and for all. And that meant he had to start behaving like an actual human being.

  Blessed with a sixth sense that had only awoken since Laurella had started working at Necron, Calum lifted his head at the precise moment she entered the restaurant. He watched her speak to the host, who nodded, helped her remove her coat, and handed it off to another employee. She’d also gone for formal wear, but as with everything Laurella wore, she did it with style.

  The host indicated for her to follow him, and they began to make their way over. Calum got to his feet, seating himself again once Laurella had taken her chair. He gestured to the waiter.

  “I took the liberty of ordering wine, but did you want anything else?” he asked Laurella.

  “Some still water, please,” she said.

  “Certainly, madam.” The waiter gave a brief nod before retreating.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d turn up,” she said.

  He tapped a finger against his bottom lip. “You really do have a low opinion of me, don’t you?”

  She forced a smile. “It’s been well-earned.”

  “Ouch.” He grinned. “I guess I deserved that.”

  She licked her lips as if her mouth was dry. He moved his gaze south. She really did have the most wonderful full lips. Kissable lips. He shook his head of those thoughts. They’d only lead to trouble.

  “I don’t understand you at all,” she said, scrutinizing his face. “One minute, you’re the epitome of charm. The next, you’re like a venomous snake ready to sink your fangs into me. It’s like you have a split personality.”

  “You have fangs of your own, Laurella,” he said, ignoring her insult.

  “Mine are only used for self-protection.”

  He paused as their server came across with her water and the wine. Calum shook his head at the offer to taste it then leaned back in his chair until their glasses had been filled. When they were alone once more, he bent forward, his forearms resting on the table.

  “I’m not sure that’s true. Yes, I’m a complicated man, but you’re a complicated woman. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ll admit at least partial responsibility for our constant arguments. Take today, for example. You should have come to me first before sharing your ideas in front of the whole board. I don’t know how things worked in Italy, but here in America, you don’t embarrass your colleagues in front of their peers and their boss without giving them the courtesy of telling them what you’re planning to do.”

  Her eyes slid away from his,
and she nibbled on her lower lip. “You work so differently from the way I did at my last company. There, all ideas were welcome. We just wanted Spirito to succeed.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table to attract her attention. When she finally lifted her chin, he said, “It’s the same here. Of course your ideas are welcome, Laurella. You’re really creative, and I have no doubt you’ll push Necron forward, but you’ve gone from working in a much larger company to a significantly smaller one. You can’t apply the same rules. They simply won’t work. All you’ll do is piss people off. Small companies are like families in a way. They’re extremely close-knit. They fight, they argue, but they also pull together toward a common goal. I don’t want to crush your creativity, your flair, your spirit. But for God’s sake, woman, fucking talk to me.”

  Her eyebrows shot up at his outburst. “You’ve basically described an Italian family. We fight and argue all the time, but we’d also die for one another.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have too much trouble adapting, should you? Although I draw the line at dying. It’s only work.” He grinned. “Seriously, though, I owe it to Zane to find a way for us to get along.”

  She offered him a faint smile, picked up her wineglass, and held it toward him. “That sounds remarkably like you’re offering me a more permanent truce. A real truce this time.”

  Calum lifted his own glass and touched it briefly to hers. “I am.”

  She sipped her drink, those melted-dark-chocolate irises studying his face. Eventually, she let out a resigned sigh. ”I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of fighting. I just want Necron to succeed.”

  “Sounds like we both want the same thing.”

  “Indeed,” she murmured, although the way she was looking at him made him wonder if they were still talking about Necron’s success.

  “Let’s order,” Calum suggested, as much to distract himself from drowning in her eyes as from a desire to eat. He perused the menu. “What would you like?”