by K. L. Kreig
Then I strengthen myself for what needs to be done. As much as my entire being has missed Connelly, like an essential part of my body has been removed and I still feel that phantom pain, it’s too messy to have him in my life. Which is why I have to say no to this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Regardless of what Connelly thinks, I will not be accepting his offer. I can’t. As with so many years ago, I am once again steadfast in my decision to turn Connelly down.
But this time, I can’t waver. This time, I can’t let his subtle seduction tactics, sweet-talking promises, or arm-twisting dominance sway my resolve. Because if I do, I stand to lose the one thing I have left that really matters to me.
And I will never let that happen.
Chapter 6
Nora
“Mr. Trammal—”
“Bill, Nora. Remember?”
I clear my throat, glad we’re having this conversation by phone instead of in person so at least I’m not forced to hide my facial expressions at his lame seduction attempts. “Bill, yes, of course. How are you today, Bill?”
“Extremely busy, but I always have time for you, Nora.”
Bill Trammal is the thirty-three-year-old brilliant, and I mean brilliant CEO of Project R&R, a company that develops bioconductor software for analysis and comprehension of genomic data generated by wet lab experiments in molecular biology. Now…ask me if I have a clue what that means. If I did, I would have followed my father into medical research instead of Carl’s footsteps into human resources. As luck would have it, I don’t have to understand the ins and outs of genomic data and software coding to find the right chief financial officer for his company.
He’s also made it clear he’d like more than a professional relationship. I’ve made it clear I don’t. Bill is handsome in a nerdy sort of way, I guess—if you look long enough at him and he’s in the just right light and you place your beer goggles firmly around your eyes. But he’s just not my type. Not many men are.
Because you compare them all to Connelly. You always have. It’s not fair for mere mortal men to have to live up to demigod status.
“Well, I won’t take up too much of your time. I talked to Mark Longley about your offer and he has a daughter with some special needs.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Does that mean he’s turning down the offer, Nora?”
“No. But he does have some stipulations. Unfortunately, his fifteen-year-old daughter has cerebral palsy and they’ll need some modifications to any new home they purchase in the Columbus area. Home modifications are not generally a covered benefit by insurance companies, so he’s asking for a stipend of twenty-five thousand dollars to cover the costs.”
For the next few minutes, we talk about the requirements of his CFO candidate and I try to keep my thoughts on business instead of drifting to Connelly and the way that suit hugged the outline of his erection so damn perfectly. It was thick and long and I swear I saw it twitch once. He did a miserable job trying to hide it when he sat haughtily in that chair. My core tingles as I remember how I slipped my vibrator inside last night wishing it was him pulsing against my walls instead of silicone powered by four AA batteries.
After Bill goes silent again, I make a suggestion. “What if you counteroffered, upping it just to put him at ease? He would know you’re serious about working for Project R&R and you’d get the candidate you want.”
Bill Trammal may be a brilliant man, very book smart, but this should have been sewn up weeks ago. Getting him to make any sort of decision on this position is like pulling teeth from a chicken.
“Yes, yes. That’s not a bad idea, Nora.”
I barely stop myself from sighing. The constant tacking on of my name at the end of each sentence has grown irritating, like nails on a chalkboard over and over and over again.
I hear a noise and look up to see Uncle Carl peeking his head in my doorway. I wave him in, knowing I’m just about done with Bill here, but putting my finger to my lips so he knows to be quiet as I’m on speakerphone. He soundlessly slides into the seat across from me.
“I would also suggest adding a clause to reimburse him after he’s incurred the expense and we can add an extra condition that he has to reimburse Project R&R if he voluntarily terminates employment or is let go due to performance issues within a two-year period of time.”
Silence. Carl and I exchange glances and I roll my eyes while he smiles. He knows how challenging Bill Trammal has been.
“He is still the candidate you want for your CFO position, correct, Bill?”
“Yes, of course, Nora.”
“Then I assume I can discuss your counteroffer with Mr. Longley?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Great ideas, as usual, Nora.”
“Okay then. I’ll talk to him and circle back around with you soon.”
I punch the speakerphone lightning fast, disconnecting the call to avoid Bill asking me out. Again. It never fails. Carl’s laughing before my finger leaves the button.
“Good reflexes.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“It’s paying off.”
“Thanks,” I reply with a big grin. I grab the yellow folder from the edge of my desk, making assumptions as to why Carl is here. “Did you want an update about the Gemini position?”
“No, actually. I was wondering how your private meeting went with Colloway yesterday?” he asks tentatively.
I settle into my chair and shut the file in front of me. I didn’t have a chance to talk to Carl again, as “instructed” by Connelly because…well, because I chose not to. I already knew I wouldn’t be taking the job, no matter how much goading he does.
“It was fine.”
“Fine? Just…fine?” His forehead wrinkles as his bushy brows furrow.
“Yes. Just fine.”
He regards me before speaking again. “He told me this morning you turned down the offer again.”
“Carl, we’ve talked about this.”
He looks at me sternly, putting on his best pseudo father face. “I want you to take the offer, sweet girl. If not for yourself, I want you to do it for me.”
That’s a low blow. He knows I’d do anything for him. I just…I can’t do that and I can’t tell him why. I know he thinks I’m just being stubborn, but I’m not. I’m protecting myself and the little I have left in this world I love.
“I can’t, Carl,” I say softly.
“Mira’s there. You can spend more time with her. Get to know your sister better.”
Mira is my half sister, my father’s daughter from his first marriage. She’s three years older than me, single, lives in Chicago, and is very successful and downright beautiful, both inside and out.
Mira and I were never close. In fact, I’d only seen her a handful of times growing up, because if my father didn’t have enough time for his current family, he certainly didn’t have time for his former one. We reconnected at our father’s funeral a few years ago.
“I don’t have to live there to get to know her better. We’ve talked a lot on the phone lately.”
My gaze flits to the silver picture frame sitting on my maple desk. Carl’s eyes follow and his mouth turns down. That picture was taken just days after we moved to Baltimore all those years ago. It was taken just before everything in my life changed.
Sighing heavily, he stands and paces, rubbing the silvery strands on his head. “Nora, there’s a one-year noncompete clause in the sale agreement that I’ve agreed to for all directors and above. It specifically includes you, too.”
My blood runs cold as my brain tries to catch up to what he just told me. “What?” I choke, not believing my ears. “Why in the hell would you agree to that?”
“I didn’t have a choice, Nora! I tried to leave you out of it, but Colloway wouldn’t agree. He can’t have half the staff quitting on him after the sale. One of the reasons he’s buying this business is because of the talent I’ve been able to secure. Regardless of what he says, it’s hurting Wynn and you’re our best recruit
er. Our business has tripled within the last twenty-four months, and most of it’s because of you.”
I scoff. “You’re being ridiculous. That’s not true.”
“Nora, it is, and you know it.”
“It will never hold up in a court of law. We each have to give our signatory for that type of stipulation.” I’m grasping at strings that are quickly unraveling but I don’t have any other choice. I cannot work for Connelly.
“I assure you, it will hold up. And even if it doesn’t, you’ll spend more than a year going through the legal system. Jesus, I’m trying to secure your future here. Why are you fighting me on this?” he huffs in frustration.
“By handcuffing me? You know that means I can’t get another recruiting job for one year. What the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime for income?” It’s not like I’m poor with no money in savings, but I can’t afford to be without a job for an entire year until the clause expires either. Goddamn him.
He stops, looking at me pointedly. “Take the deal he’s offering.”
“It’s not that easy, Carl.”
“It is that easy, Nora. Why are you making this so damn difficult?” He raises his voice, almost yelling, and now I know something is wrong. Carl has not once, in all the years I’ve known him, raised his voice to me.
“I could ask the same question.” Uncomfortable silence thickens into a sea of foreboding I can scarcely see through. “What else?”
His eyes snap away before returning to mine. I see loads of regret hanging in them. Then he takes a deep breath and crushes my world knowing there’s no way I can say no now. “I need the money from the sale, Nora.”
My heart sinks and my head falls back heavily against my chair. “How much?” I choke through the lump of anxiety swelling my throat.
I love my Uncle Carl, but he’s a gambler. Not in the seedy, loan shark, someone’s-gonna-break-your-kneecaps-unless-you-pay-up kind of way, but in the get-rich-quick-and-risk-everything-you-love kind instead. He finds penny stocks he’s convinced are going to turn him into an insta-multimillionaire, even though he doesn’t need the money because he has a very successful business. Which he nearly lost once before six years ago because of this shit, mind you. He’s been taken for a ride more than once. It’s an obsession, a rush he’s told me he was done with time and again. Guess that was a lie.
He averts his gaze, embarrassed. “Enough.” Which means everything.
“Fuck, Carl,” I curse lowly.
“I’m sorry, Nora.” He means it, but it’s not nearly enough. This entire acquisition now rests squarely on my shoulders. Carl has to sell or go bankrupt. If I refuse to agree to the employment terms outlined by Wynn, not only will I be out of a job, but the rest of the one hundred and fifty people who work for my uncle will be standing in the unemployment line, or worse, embroiled in some type of scandal that’s no fault of their own, their resumes now tainted because they worked for SER.
No pressure there.
I think of my admin, Vicky, a single mother of three. Recently divorced, barely making ends meet with the bills she’s now sacked with from her loser husband who hasn’t paid a dime of child support and left her drowning under a mound of credit card debt.
I think of Brandon, another fellow recruiter who’s getting married in a month and how he and his fiancée, Patricia, are paying for their entire wedding themselves.
I think of Ronnie in accounting who is less than a year away from retiring. She needs her job to maintain her health insurance until she turns sixty-five.
I suspiciously wonder if Connelly knew all of this and if that’s the “thorough research” he’s referring to instead of what I originally thought—my secret that I’ve held tight to. It seems quite coincidental my uncle’s financial trouble coincided with an out-of-the-blue offer from Wynn. I don’t believe in those types of coincidences. Although it makes me angry either way, I’d rather have this be the “secret” he’s ferreted out than the ones I’m hiding.
“Yeah, me too,” I mumble, knowing I am well and thoroughly fucked.
Your day of atonement has finally almost arrived, Nora. I knew it was coming. I knew it was inevitable. I just never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that my hand would be forced quite like this or that it would be done by both of the men I love.
Chapter 7
Conn
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Asher asks over the mouth of his coffee cup. He blows on it for a few seconds before taking a careful sip of his black coffee.
Other than the fact it’s been two days since my meeting with Nora and I don’t have her signed employment agreement on my desk yet? Not a fucking thing.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I take a taste of my cappuccino to keep myself from saying anything else to add fuel to Asher’s fire like shut the fuck up.
He laughs, popping a chunk of blueberry muffin in his big mouth. We met for breakfast this Saturday morning because Alyse was attending a Pilates class and Asher had some free time. He and Alyse were married a month ago and ever since, he’s been pretty preoccupied with his new wife. Hell, since he reunited with Alyse, he’s possessive and obsessed, almost never leaving her side. I have to say…I miss my best friend. Not that I’m jealous or anything. I most certainly am not. Not in the least.
“I call bullshit. You haven’t been acting like yourself for the last few weeks. What gives?”
“And how would you know that?” I growl, pissed that he’s called me out on my sour mood. “You’ve barely come up for air since you got married.”
A devilish grin eats up my twin’s face. “See, now I know you’re hiding something. The Conn I know would be giving me a high five instead of sounding like a jealous little bitch baby.”
“I’m not fucking jealous.” I may be. Just a little. Christ.
I hate these crazy, nonsensical feelings racing through me. I’m nervous, anxious, and worried. All of which I’m not used to. I don’t know what to do with the noxious stew brewing inside me. It needs an outlet or I’m going to blow. I have an inordinate amount of patience, but when it reaches its end, watch the fuck out. You do not want to be in my warpath because it’s downright ugly. I get that trait directly from my mother.
Asshole laughs. “I think you are. You know I can feel your emotions, right? Just like you can mine.”
That’s the thing about twins or at least with mine. It doesn’t matter how far away we seem to be from each other, I can sense when Asher has extreme emotional swings. High anxiety, extreme sadness, or happiness. Unfortunately, that works both ways and he can easily tell I’ve been under some high stress myself lately.
“How’s that acquisition going?” he prods knowingly.
Wynn Consulting sits under GRASCO Holdings, a company my brothers, Gray, Asher, and I own and run. Gray is the GRASCO chairman of the board and Asher is the CEO of another subsidiary under GRASCO, Colloway Financial Consulting. The GRASCO board, which all three of us sit on, needs to approve any and all acquisition activities. My brothers, along with the other three board members, have been supportive, albeit wondering why the hell I’ve set my sights on them.
I regard Asher quietly, wondering what he suspects. I’ve not said a word to Asher about Nora working for SER, but he knows something is askew. Surprisingly, he’s kept his mouth shut about the whole thing, not questioning why I’m hell-bent on owning a company I don’t need but want desperately. Guess that was bound to end sometime.
“It’s going.”
“Run into a snag?”
“Nothing I can’t overcome,” I announce with more assurance than I feel as doubt slithers its way through me, undermining the confidence I had when I set this all into motion months ago.
I’m usually the guy who thinks of plans A through E because you don’t know when your first four plans will fall through and you’ll need the fifth one. That’s the one no one thinks far enough ahead about to orchestrate. That’s why I win a hell of a lot more than I lose.
/> I plan.
I scheme.
I win.
Period.
I’ll eventually win SER, but I could care less about them. What I care about is getting Nora back into my life. My bed. My future. I will stop at nothing until I have her.
“Don’t doubt that. You’re not one to lose when you want something.”
“No, I’m not.” I’m man enough to admit I’m not the most gracious loser and if anyone knows that better than me, it’s Asher. In my book, if you’re not first, you’re last. The second place podium is lower than the first for a reason. I don’t know a damn person who competes in anything: sport, careers, life, where they set out to be second place.
“You seem to want this company pretty badly. More than I think I’ve ever seen you want anything.” He holds my stare, daring me to deny it. I give him nothing and he adds, “So who is she?”
“Who’s who?” I ask, feigning ignorance. I take a gulp of my too hot cappuccino, burning my tongue in the process. Shit…that hurt.
“Really? That how we’re playing?” he responds with a chuckle, raising his brows in challenge.
“Isn’t it about time to get back to the wifey?” I chide, trying to change subjects by pissing him off. Asher and I are two peas in a pod when it comes to doing shit like that.
He doesn’t take the bait, the fucker. “Cut the shit, Conn. You’re wound tighter than a fucking top. You’re moody, short-tempered and preoccupied. Hell, you’re acting like…” He stops midsentence narrowing his eyes as if he’s just solved a brainteaser. And knowing Asher, he probably has. Then a broad grin splits his lips. Kinda how I’d like to do it about now, except mine would involve a fist and blood. “You’re acting like Gray did. Well, I’ll be damned,” he drawls, his cocky smile broadening. “You’ve found her.”
“Know what I think?” I once again rush to change the subject, not quite ready to talk about Nora. Not until I know I have her. That way if for some reason I lose her, I can suffer my humiliation alone. Losers like to tuck tail and hide their shame from others. Not that I’m used to being on the losing end, so I can only imagine that’s how they would feel.
