“Easier?” I echoed. My throat was suddenly scratchy. I took another sip of juice.
Michael chuckled. “Yes. Understand, Hamilton would have only been able to do so much for you. There are some things that require the guidance of a person who can truly identify with who you are, as a person of color.”
I frowned but couldn’t find a response.
“It’s a good thing you chose not to stay at Hamilton Associates, Miss Renaud. Your growth would have been severely stunted. If you trust me, I’ll take you higher than you ever imagined you’d go. I can pretty much guarantee your success.” His eyes fell to the while-you-were-out slip that was laid on my desk before he looked back at me.
I swallowed discreetly as we headed towards the small meeting table in my office. Soon we were hovered over my Professional Development Plan, reviewing my strengths and opportunities for growth and goals.
Michael sat back and threw his arm over the back of the chair. His diamond-encrusted watch glittered against the office lighting as he pulled at his beard. “I want to know about your strengths,” he commanded. “I’ve seen you in action, but I want to know what you think they are.”
“I’m creative,” I responded quickly. “I’m solution-focused...”
“Which means?”
“Which means that challenges don’t bother me. I can easily find a solution to any problem; and if there is no solution readily available, I create one.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction. “I like that,” he muttered, smiling. “And what about your opportunities for growth? In what areas do you feel you would benefit from more exposure?”
“I want to increase in experience.”
“I can make that happen,” he guaranteed.
My heart expanded, but I was cautious.
“What else?”
I paused. “I need to learn to depend on others more.”
“What does that look like?”
“It looks like me relying on my team and trusting others...” I paused and fell into a reverie of thought. That had been the problem during my internship. I hadn’t trusted anyone, not even Dylan, and I’d driven myself to the point I’d almost failed my internship. In the end, I’d had to humble myself and accept Dylan’s assistance. It didn’t mean I was weak. It meant that I was part of a team.
I had learned that. I was still learning it.
I looked up, shocked to find Michael’s intense gaze pinned on me. “So a few minutes ago, when you heard me talk about trusting me... how did that make you feel?”
I shifted in my seat, trying not to let on that his question had gotten to me. I decided to be honest with him.
“It made me a little uncomfortable,” I admitted.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a go-getter,” I answered, “and because as a black woman, I want to experience organic success.”
Michael peered at me. “Did you trust Dylan Hamilton?”
His question came quickly, almost as if it were pre-planned and he had been waiting for the precise moment to throw it at me.
My heart lurched.
“I did trust him,” I answered. “I do trust him.”
He stared at me silently, stroking the long hairs of his beard. “Do you trust me?”
I moistened my lips. I’d only known Michael Sawyer for four weeks. There was no way I could say with any certainty whether he was trustworthy. Just as I was required to prove myself, the same was incumbent upon him. Besides, Dylan was more than my boss. He was my lover, and the experiences we shared cemented a deep-rooted bond between us. I would never trust Michael Sawyer more than I trusted Dylan.
“I’m just getting to know you,” I finally responded. “But my hope is that I’ll grow to trust you almost as much as I trusted him.”
Michael smiled.
It was a cocky smile.
He scrubbed his nape and picked up my Professional Development Plan. “You’re at the one-month mark, and I want to review your progress, per the PDP. As you know, this is what I’ll be using to evaluate your final performance at the end of the probationary period. If I’m happy you’re hired. But more than that...” he leaned forward, so that our faces were almost uncomfortably close. At this proximity, I could see small, warm freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. And his eyes weren’t black at all. They were the deepest shade of brown.
His baritone pulled me back in. “You have personal goals, which you’ve highlighted in this document, but I also have some goals for you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman like you come through; a woman with whom I’ve connected with her personal style and work ethic. I would love to put you on a fast-track to success.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. My heart pounded against my chest in anticipation.
Michael shrugged. “I can see you in a managerial position,” he responded. “I need to soften the top. It’s heavy on testosterone.”
We laughed before Michael turned serious.
“I’ve got my eye on you, Laila,” he said softly, sending a shiver through me. “Keep doing what you’re doing.” He paused. “And trust me.”
Michael packed up his few papers and pushed the chair back. After a second, I collected myself and headed for my desk. Michael started for the door but turned around before he walked away. “Don’t forget to make that phone call,” he reminded me. He pointed to the while-you-were-out slip, and then walked out of the office.
Five
Michael
‘A Sister’
I left her office with the smell of her alluring fragrance still lingering in my nose. It was as if I could almost taste her. The sight of her sitting behind that desk in her heather-gray sheath dress titillated my senses, the same way she had done when I’d seen her walking across the graduation stage, or even every day I passed her through the halls of the office. Her mannerisms and her confidence intrigued me beyond measure. Women of her variety didn’t come by often, that much I knew for sure. I had seen her at the Johnson and Wales graduation and I’d listened to her rousing speech. Then, I’d watched as she paraded across the stage with her MBA in hand. But I hadn’t been the only one watching her.
My mind fell to the while-you-were-out slip that was on her desk and I scowled. I’d heard the rumors about her and Dylan Hamilton; about how he’d been sleeping with an intern without shame. My corporate buddies and I had mulled over it for weeks. It had been the talk of the town. We’d each had our share of forbidden women: secretaries, other men’s wives, hookers... an intern wasn’t that spectacular, but when we heard he’d proposed, it escalated things to a new level.
The woman must have been stunning if Dylan Hamilton had taken the plunge. I’d known him since university and since then, he only dealt with the finest of women, but now, to see the woman for myself... and to see that she was a sister...
Indignation filled me.
I marched to my office and was flanked by Sasha in an instant.
I couldn’t ignore the sneer on her face. “What’s your problem?” I muttered.
“What makes you think I have a problem?” she asked snatching something off a desk as we passed. “The only problem I have is that I fell for your stupid lines years ago, and somehow I’m still falling for them.”
I groaned. “Are we still playing this game, Sash?” I whispered.
Her eyes glistened, and she rolled them to clear the shine away. “I’ve never played games with you, Michael. If anyone has played games, it’s been you.”
We entered my executive office and Sasha slammed the door closed.
I grumbled and filed towards my desk. I had phone calls to make and business to handle. I didn’t have time for Sasha’s emotional tirade. This was precisely why I didn’t make a habit of mixing business with pleasure, but unfortunately, after one too many drinks, I had gone there with my executive assistant.
Granted, she’d been on my ass the minute I’d convinced her to dump her loser-boyfriend.
And granted,
I’d noticed how nice her ass was ...
Sasha was extremely easy on the eyes. She was an upmarket brand of chocolate with brown eyes that made her entire face glow. And she was thick – a classic African queen.
But now it was messy.
I had been clear on my position regarding love and relationships from the very beginning.
She said she understood; but she was a Pisces, which meant she was emotional and wore her heart on her sleeve. I tolerated her because I actually cared about her, but I was quick to reinsert the boundaries when things became... inconvenient.
Like now.
I dropped into my chair and rubbed my temples, trying to summon patience.
Sasha stalked up to the desk and peered into my face.
“I know I don’t need to remind you that now is not the appropriate time or place,” I whispered menacingly.
She shrunk back and rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“I need you to make some calls,” I instructed, moving on to the next order of business. “I need you to see what you can dig up about Dylan Hamilton.”
“Michael – ”
She started to protest, but I cut her off. “I want any and everything,” I clarified, “his business, his love life... I want to know about his past and his present.”
That way I can manipulate his future...
Sasha’s mouth tightened, but she dipped her head in obedience. “Of course,” she agreed before turning to walk out the door.
I watched her hips sway as she sashayed towards the door, and my eyes narrowed in appreciation of her compelling femininity.
“Sash...”
She paused and turned.
“You’ll always be my girl, right?”
She rolled her eyes and smirked. “Maybe.”
IT WAS JUST AFTER FOUR o’clock when Sasha knocked on my office door. I bade her entry, and she walked up to my desk, dropping a notepad on it.
“I can’t believe you pay me just shy of six-figures a year, and this is what you have me doing.”
I ignored her sarcasm and scanned her notes, flipping through three pages of information. I sat back and pulled the hair on my chin.
Sasha sat in a nearby armchair.
“So the rumors were true,” I said to myself. “She is his fiancée.”
“And his Board isn’t pleased about it,” she added. “I called a secretary friend of mine who clued me in.”
My eyes narrowed as I stared into the distance.
“You asked me to get information on his love life,” she added. She flipped another page and rested a manicured nail on the paper.
I looked at where she was pointing. “Emily Walton...” I muttered. “I know that name.”
“You should know it,” she advised me. “That’s Dylan Hamilton’s ex-boo from university. You all would have gone to school together.”
I slammed my hand on the desk top. “Yes!” I bellowed, rising to my feet. “What’s up with her? You said his ex, so I’m assuming there’s bad blood.”
“There doesn’t always have to be bad blood when an ex is involved,” she informed me, dropping subliminal messages. “But you’re right. From what it seems, she wasn’t keen on the fact that he ended their relationship.”
“To be with a student,” I filled in.
Sasha raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“How did you get all this information, anyway?” I queried, impressed by her stealthy acumen
Sasha shrugged. “The Triple-A.”
“The fucking car service company?”
“The Administrative Assistant Alliance,” she revealed, laughing. “It’s an unspoken thing across administrative assistants in the city and one of the girls at HA owes me a favor, since I have something on her.”
I shook my head. Whatever worked, I thought.
Now, the wheels in my mind were turning. I flipped through the pages reviewing the information again, then I leaned back in my chair. I ran my fingers through my beard.
“I want you to give Emily Walton a call,” I instructed, still pensive.
Sasha started writing.
“Schedule an appointment for her to come and see me. Make it for as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” she agreed, though her tone was wary.
“And make a call to Joseph Brenneman. He’s one of the men on Dylan Hamilton’s Board of Directors. I think I’d like to have a conversation with him also.”
Six
Dylan
‘Overprotective’
I chaînésed around my butler, Ignacio, who was preparing Laila’s favorite meal, with my cell phone pressed securely against my ear. I was in the throes of an impromptu and inconvenient business meeting with Max.
“Dylan, I asked you a question,” Max huffed on the line. “What are your thoughts on the latest client?”
I leaned on the counter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Max, when I decided not to pursue the business partnership with Af-Tech, I was serious. It’s a start-up and I’m not satisfied with their level of stability.”
“Dylan, they grossed three-quarters of a million dollars last quarter; half a million the quarter before that,” Max countered. “How much stability do you need to be convinced that going into business with these guys will be a lucrative venture?”
I shook my head, as if he could see me.
Not convinced.
“It doesn’t matter,” I asserted. “Show me their books two years from now. If they’re still in the black, then I might reconsider.”
Max grunted. “They’re dealing with Bitcoin, Dylan.”
“I know.”
“You, of all people, should want to jump on board. Thanks to Laila Renaud, you’re the e-Insurance guru. Everyone comes to Hamilton Associates when they want to insure online profit.”
“It’s too much of a risk, Max. We met these guys. They’re young and dumb. They’re not savvy or prudent with their investments. If we insure them, we stand to lose a lot more than if we don’t.”
Max fell silent on the other end of the phone and I knew what he was doing. He was grinding his teeth, preparing a lecture designed to break me down.
It wouldn’t work.
“Speaking of risky...” Max said. His voice trailed off. “We need to talk, Dylan.”
“We’re talking now.”
“About something else,” Max clarified.
Suddenly the door opened, and Laila graced the threshold of our home. In seconds, my heartrate increased, and my mouth slackened. Max’s voice reduced to white noise, and Ignacio’s presence, along with the clanging pots and pans, faded into nothing.
My eyes locked onto Laila. In an instant I was hungry, but it wasn’t for the bouillabaisse Ignacio was preparing.
“Max, I’m gonna have to call you back,” I murmured, already pulling the phone from my ear.
His demanding tone caused me to pause. “Dylan, this is serious. It’s about the Board of Directors.”
“Like I said, I’ll call you later. In fact, we’ll meet in the morning and we can talk then.”
“Dylan – ”
I hung up.
Laila stood at the door with her arms hanging by her sides and her briefcase in one hand. Her soft brown eyes dimmed as a smile tugged at her lips.
I dropped the phone onto the counter and approached her, pulling her into my arms with a needy groan. “Ma belle fille...”
Her arms draped around my neck before I took her with a soft kiss, sending her a private message related to the events which would take place later that night. I pressed my body against hers, melding us together.
“How was your day? You look exhausted,” I whispered. My knuckles grazed her silky-smooth cheek and I tilted her chin upwards, searching her face with concern.
She drew in a breath and nodded. “It was fine,” she replied, but something in her tone caused doubt to rise within me. “Exhausted might not be strong enough a word, but I’ll be okay. Especially now that I’m home with you.”
I pulled her into a tender embrace and kissed her mouth, instantly inebriated by her essence.
Lifting her nose into the air, Laila inhaled the aromas of leeks and onions, and clams, lobster, and mussels. Her eyes closed. “My favorite,” she said through a satisfied breath. “You always seem to know what I need,” she murmured, walking into my arms.
“Better than anyone else.” I pushed her long, black tendrils over her shoulder and nuzzled her neck. “And then I plan to draw you a steaming hot bath, so you can unwind and relax. The candles have already been lit.”
She raised a testy eyebrow. “I might need some company in that big bath tub,” she considered. “A girl gets lonely every now and then.” Her eyes glinted, and my body responded without prompting.
“The His robe is hanging up next to the Hers,” I informed her. “You’ll never be lonely as long as you have me.” My mouth fell to hers and I devoured her. I took her face in my hands, deepening the kiss. We gazed at each other as she ran her hands across the broadness of my chest.
“I’m starving,” she admitted. “I hardly had time to grab lunch. Today has been the longest day of my life.”
“So it seems,” I said. “I need you to tell me what happened today.”
She pulled away to look me in the face. “What makes you think something happened?”
“Your expression gave you away.”
“My expression?”
“Every time you lie, your nose wrinkles.”
“My nose doesn’t wrinkle,” she said laughing. “Neither do I lie,” she added quickly.
“The point is, something bothered you and I want to know what it was.” I lowered my gaze to hers and kissed the wrinkle above her nose before heading for the dining room.
Laila followed me. “Dylan, you’re worrying.” She shrugged out of her blazer.
“I am.”
“Stop it,” she advised. “So it was a tough day. Those happen. It’s not a big deal.”
I pulled out a chair and she lowered herself into it, almost disappearing behind its tall mahogany back. I moved around until I was at the seat directly across from her. It was a table for two and we were pleasantly close.
Coup: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 2) Page 3
