Coup: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 2)

by Brooklyn Knight

  “Actually, it does,” I spat and turned away from the window. “Here’s the deal, Max: no one on that Board has an ethical leg to stand on if they’re going to accuse me of doing something inappropriate, and if you think, for one moment, I’ll bat an eyelid when I tell them that, you don’t know me very well.”

  Max puffed out his cheeks.

  I marched over to him and stared him in the face. “I have never been in a better position to run this company; my company. I have a strong woman by my side and I’m not sacrificing her for anyone.” I lowered my voice. “What’s more, any business decision I make for this company is for the greater good of the company. I dare the Board to try and oust me. I’d bury each one of those goddamned men alive and no one would find their remains.”

  Max nodded slowly and finished the drink he’d made.

  “Was there anything else?”

  He shook his head. “That was it for now,” he confirmed. “I’ll let the Board know that we had this conversation, and of course I’ll keep you posted on any other concerns they may have.”

  “There’s no need for you to speak on my behalf,” I said. “I can tell my own story, and I’ll do it in our next mid-quarter meeting.”

  Max rested his glass on the counter and left, and I stared after him until the door thudded to a close.

  I had never been one to be intimidated by others, and I didn’t plan on starting now, especially not by the Board of Directors of a company that had my last name on it.

  Still...

  I didn’t like that fact that Laila was being made centerstage of a production for which she didn’t cast. My purpose for being in her life was not to bring turmoil, yet the way it seemed, turmoil was the only thing coming to her doorstep, though she’d never admit it. What was more, the Board had the ability to shift me if they really wanted to, but it would be over my lifeless body that they did.

  Eight

  Laila

  ‘Manage You’

  Michael had given me charge of another portfolio earlier that day, and I flipped through the pages of the client’s file, trying to prepare myself for the meeting which was scheduled to take place the following afternoon. Sasha had long gone, and here I sat, hovering over stacks of paper on my desk and a glaring computer screen, trying to take in everything I could about the new client.

  I pushed my pen against my bottom lip and looked at my cell phone when it began to buzz. I glanced at my watch. It was almost nine o’clock at night. That was late, even for me. The last time I’d pulled an all-nighter like this, I was working at Hamilton Associates, trying to prove my worthiness to my then-boss, now fiancée.

  His handsome face peered up at me on screen and I held it for a while, staring at it. His hazel eyes captured me every time, and the way his strong jaw was set, covered with a thin layer of stubble, reminded me of the things he could skillfully do with his mouth.

  I squeezed my core and connected the call quickly, before it cut off.

  He answered with the typical and expected greeting. “Ma belle fille.”

  “Monsieur...”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re still in the office working,” he begged.

  I sighed. “Unfortunately, I am,” I confirmed, stretching my legs under my desk and leaning back in the chair. I had been sitting there for hours and this was the first break I’d had. “I’d intended on being home early tonight, considering you would be, but Michael handed me yet another project, and I figured I should be prepared. Who knows what he’ll spring on me tomorrow.”

  “I see...” Dylan responded, but I recognized that familiar tenor of his tone. “What time will you be ready? Ignacio has the night off, so I’ll have the privilege of picking you up, since you didn’t drive in this morning.”

  I looked at my watch again. I didn’t want to be in the office for too much longer. I was tired, and all I wanted to do was curl up in Dylan’s arms while he reviewed reports. I’d sip on a glass of wine and relish in the ambiance of his strong, secure presence.

  “You can leave now,” I suggested. “By the time you arrive, I’ll be ready to go.” I felt him smile through the phone.

  “Perfect,” he said. “I’ll throw on some joggers and leave right away.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said.

  “Do what?”

  “The joggers. Just come in boxers.”

  Dylan released a hearty laugh and I joined in. “You’re so naughty,” he growled.

  “I was a good girl before I met you.”

  “Mmm,” he hummed. “I’ll take responsibility for your ruining if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll see you in thirty minutes. I love you.”

  “I love you more.”

  We hung up, and I sat, staring at nothing, thinking about my husband-to-be, my heart swelling with pride, before I started packing my papers away.

  A knock on my office door halted my actions and I looked up, surprised to see Sawyer standing at the door. He was still fully dressed in his business attire. This one was navy blue, which he’d paired with a crisp, white shirt and powder-pink tie. His polished shoes hadn’t gone past the threshold.

  “Mr. Sawyer,” I said, running my hand over my hair.

  He peeped in, his fist still raised to the oak door. “Laila, may I come in?” He peered at me, his intense, eyes searing me to the bone.

  “Yes, of course,” I said, standing up straight. My body stiffened.

  He entered. His gait was domineering as he advanced into the office with his arms swinging at his sides. “I was heading back to my office from a late meeting when I noticed your light was still on.”

  “A meeting?” I parroted with a smile. “And I wasn’t invited? Perhaps I missed the memo.”

  “No, you didn’t. It was a... personal meeting.” He chuckled. “Besides, I figured I’d give you a break since I’ve been dragging you along with me to almost every meeting since you got here; though your presence is pleasurable.” He smiled. “I certainly don’t mind having you next to me whenever I move.”

  The directness of his gaze discomfited me, and I held my breath.

  “Was there something you needed?” I asked, trying to dispel the uncomfortable silence that followed. “I was actually on my way out.”

  “Not really,” he admitted shrugging his broad shoulders. He advanced further into the office, bringing a masculine aroma with him, and sat in a nearby seat, running his hand over the upholstered arm. “I figured that since you were still here, I’d catch up with you. I haven’t seen you for most of the day.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “We both have,” he agreed. “But I want to stay on top of you.”

  Silence.

  “Especially because I’ve been handing over so many projects, big projects, I might add.”

  “I noticed. I’m grateful.”

  He grinned. “It seems as if you’re beginning to trust me.” His tone softened. “I told you, I’ll push you as far as you allow me. Soon you’ll see the difference between mine and Dylan Hamilton’s leadership style.”

  “Dylan pushed me,” I clarified.

  “Not the way I will,” he contested, “and I think you’re already seeing that much.”

  I rubbed my elbow. “I can’t deny that you’ve given me more responsibility than I ever had at HA,” I admitted. Something inside of me jerked, but I ignored it.

  “Of course, you were only an intern while you worked for him,” Michael commented, but for some reason I read more into it. I chose to ignore that as well.

  Michael leaned forward. “So how are things going?”

  I sat back down. “Very well,” I replied pushing my shoulders back. “I’m being challenged, and I feel that I’m growing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “I’ll admit, there have been times where there seemed to be a lot going on. You’ve been piling on the assignments, and at one point I missed the support.”

  “You mean in comparison to the time
you spent at Hamilton Associates?”

  I frowned, but before I could respond, he’d started speaking again.

  “Laila, understand that Dylan Hamilton and I are nothing alike,” he said. “As I mentioned, our management styles are totally different.”

  “How so?”

  “Dylan Hamilton will hold your hand,” he said. “He’ll protect you from adversity and create opportunities for you, but that’s not real life.” He paused. “Do you wish to know how I would like to manage you?” He asked. His voiced had lowered to just more than a hush.

  I bristled in my once-comfortable seat.

  “I want to push you past your comfort zone, Laila. I want to watch to see how you’ll handle the challenge. Will you sink or swim?” He pressed his back against the chair. “My goal is to force you to swim. For us, it has to be that way.”

  The skin on my face tightened. I cleared my throat. “Can you explain?”

  “Explain what?”

  “For us,” I clarified, rubbing my elbow. “What do you mean when you say, for us?”

  “Us, as in people of color, Laila.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Unfortunately, when it comes to our people, we have to swim harder and faster than our Caucasian counterparts – right out of the starting block. The bar is set higher for us, for historical reasons.” Michael peered at me and frowned. “Please don’t tell me you’ve consumed the Kool-Aid.”

  I grimaced.

  “Listen,” he continued. He moistened his full lips. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everyone who works at my company is a person of color, and there’s a precise reason for that. I learned, a long time ago, that we must support our own. If we don’t do it, no one else will. We don’t get handouts or favors, Laila. We have to work hard for everything we get.”

  Passion dripped from his lips.

  “That’s the expectation of everyone in this line of work,” I countered. “I’m not naïve enough to believe that we’re working with a level playing field, but I do believe that if someone has the work ethic and the talent, they’re a formidable opponent and success will come.”

  He shook his head. “It would be nice if that were true. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Laila, when a black boy is born, both statistically and from a socioeconomic perspective, he is at an automatic disadvantage. That puts him in a position which requires him to work that much harder, just to be acknowledged, just to have access to resources.” He let the facts sink in and shrugged. He crossed one leg over the other. “So, I make it my business to support my own. My goal is to develop black talent. Don’t get me wrong, that in no way means I lower the bar. Quite the contrary.” He shook his head. “I raise it; because, as you mentioned, we as a people need to understand the concept and value of hard work. Hence, my treatment of you.”

  My eyes flickered as I stared at him, unable to divert my gaze. My teeth clamped the inside of my bottom lip.

  “That’s powerful,” I muttered, yet a significant amount of unease coursed through me. “And I’m grateful,” I added. “I understand a little better now. At first, I was unsure, but it’s starting to make sense. I actually complained about the workload.”

  “To Dylan?”

  I paused. “Yes.”

  Michael laughed and then settled. “Dylan would be one of those to feed you the Kool-Aid I was referring to earlier.”

  My eyes flickered, and I cleared my throat. My body tensed. “Dylan only drinks water,” I commented. “Or wine.”

  He raised an amused eyebrow.

  “But that’s unimportant. I appreciate your support of my career. You’re right, I was very supported at Hamilton Associates. I wouldn’t say Dylan held my hand, though. I worked hard and proved myself, just like any other employee. Your leadership philosophies differ slightly, but they’re not too different. In fact, it’s because of Dylan that I’m able to swim in your pool in the first place.” I put a smile on my face, but it shivered.

  My phone started to buzz, and my eyes shot down to the desk. It was Dylan.

  Dylan: Ma belle fille, I’m here and waiting outside.

  I looked back up at Michael, surprised to see that his eyes had also dropped to the phone on my desk. I swiped it into my purse and finished packing away my things. I tried to steady my jerky movements.

  “I have to go,” I announced, throwing my purse over my shoulder and picking up my briefcase.

  “Yes, you said that,” Michael replied. “It’s late and you’re always in the office so early. I imagine you must be beat.” He raised from his seat and stood to the side to let me pass.

  I caught a whiff of his masculine fragrance and held my breath.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “I didn’t drive,” I said quickly.

  “Oh? You’re catching a taxi then?”

  “No, Dylan is outside waiting.” My breath hitched, but I didn’t know why.

  “Oh!” Michael paused and pressed his back against the seat. “I didn’t realize you two were still in contact. Close contact it seems.”

  “Dylan and I are dating,” I informed him. I pushed my chin out. “In fact, we’re getting married.”

  Michael’s eyebrows lifted. “Congratulations.” He paused again. “In that case I’ll definitely have to walk you down. I haven’t seen Dylan in quite some time and I’d like to offer him my congrats on his impending nuptials.” His words and facial expressions did not match.

  Shooing nerves away, I walked through the halls next to Michael until we reached the elevator. When it opened, he touched my elbow, allowing me to enter first. I eased out of his grasp and stood flush against the wall, trying to ignore my twitching muscles.

  The elevator zipped downward, and we remained silent for most of the ride.

  “Do you plan to attend the company gala? It’s at the end of the month,” he asked, staring straight ahead.

  “I’ve considered it, but I know Dylan’s Board of Directors’ mid-quarter meeting falls around the same time.”

  “I see,” he hummed. “Well, Dylan Hamilton’s presence isn’t required, but yours is. I’m sure we can arrange a suitable escort for you – in the event your fiancée is unavailable, of course.”

  I adjusted the strap of my purse. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Hopefully, Dylan will be able to rearrange his schedule,” I replied, “but in the event he isn’t able, I’ll be fine to attend solo. I’m a big girl.”

  “Indeed, you are.” He smiled.

  The elevator door opened, and I rushed out into the lobby. I exited the building and saw Dylan leaning against his Maybach, peering into his phone. He looked up to see me, and the warm smile on his face melted me from the inside out; but when his eyes shifted behind me, the corners of his mouth dipped, and his eyes hardened.

  Nine

  Laila

  ‘Approval’

  Dylan erected himself until he was standing tall and towering over me, and now, his entire six-foot plus frame seemed to be extended to its full length. His light brown eyes turned overcast as Michael approached.

  A storm was brewing.

  I was going to need a raincoat.

  “Well, if it isn’t the formidable Dylan Hamilton.” Michael’s voice, laced with contempt and envy, boomed across the sidewalk. An insidious smirk was plastered over his honey-brown face as he extended a competitive arm.

  Dylan’s eyes dropped to Michael’s outstretched hand, but instead of shaking it, he took me by the waist, guiding me closer to his side. He placed a sweet kiss on my mouth. “Hey sweetheart,” he whispered, touching my chin, and then he turned his attention to Sawyer. His jaw jerked. “Michael, what a surprise.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” Michael responded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “This is my firm. I often frequent this sidewalk.”

  Dylan chortled and raised an eyebrow. “I meant what a surprise that you’d see my fiancée to her ride. I admit, that was kind of you.�
�

  “Of course. I’m a gentleman. My mama taught me to always make sure a lady arrives safely to her destination of choice.”

  “My mother taught me the same,” Dylan snapped back. “And while I’m appreciative of your concern for Laila, there’s no need for you to worry about her. I’ve got all bases covered. But of course, you know that about me, don’t you?”

  An ill-defined silence descended in the space between them and I tried to ignore my rising body temperature. The testosterone swirling in the air competed with the exhaust from the tailpipes of the passing traffic.

  My body began to vibrate.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Dylan turned and opened the door of his car, ushering me into the passenger seat. I stalled, but decided it would be best to get in. Perhaps the uncomfortable scene would come to an end if I was no longer present.

  My hopes were in vain.

  Dylan closed the door and turned so his back was facing me through the open window. “Listen,” he advised crossing his arms over his chest, “just so you know, you’re lucky to have my fiancée working at your company. There were a lot of firms she could have selected, but after considering each of the options, this was the one she chose.”

  “And you allowed it to be so?” Michael asked through a smug chuckle.

  Dylan shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because my firm is your firm’s biggest rival,” he reminded Dylan. “It just seems strange that you’d allow her to contribute to my success. You’ve always loved to bask in the limelight alone.”

  From the back, I could see Dylan’s muscles tense. “It would only be strange if I was intimidated by you or your company, and of course, I’m not concerned about either; hence my approval of her choice.”

  His approval?

  “And speaking of approval,” he added stepping closer to Michael, who did not shift, “I don’t approve of the amount of work you’ve been piling on her, or your prying into her personal affairs.”

  “Dylan...” I called him, but he held his palm up, suggesting that I should remain silent.