by Poppy Drake
Later. I’ll deal with how this asshole tried to derail me later. For now, I have a bid to win.
I drag my gaze away from Lucas’ muscles, and turn back to Walter with a smile. I don’t need luck. I take out my laptop, blueprints, and other materials. “I think you’re going to love this proposal, Walter.”
Halfway through my presentation, I know Walter’s already made up his mind. He’s polite. Attentive, even. But not enthused. His smile’s not half as wide as it was when he’d been speaking with Lucas. I wrap everything up. I’ve already lost. I shake Walter’s hand. Tell him to say hello to his wife, whom I enjoyed working with so much on their homes.
He nods. I notice he stares after me rather pensively as I leave.
I’m too beside myself to care why. Maybe he’s wondering how, when I’ve done so well by him in the past, I could have fucked this bid up so royally. Perhaps he knows I’m upset, and it has nothing to do with his offices. Nothing to do with interior design whatsoever.
And everything to do with Lucas Fields.
Chapter Eight
I loiter in the alcove outside the conference room, my admittedly oversized body folded into one of the cramped chairs that I intend to replace with more comfortable options. A business isn’t judged solely on what it can do for its clients, but also on how it treats them. Good chairs are a start. Ren probably thinks I’ve never had to slouch in a cheap conference waiting room a day in my life. That I was born playing with silver spoons, that building my firm from nothing was easy.
She’s allowed to think badly of me. For now. I’ve probably earned it. It only matters that she thinks better of me eventually.
I ignore how my heart rate ticks up a notch as she exits the conference room. Get a handle on yourself.
I spring out of my chair and trail after her as she tries to breeze past me. I’m not above groveling at this point. “Please, Ren. You don’t understand. I had to have you. Everything about you…it’s perfect. Once I met you, I couldn’t walk away.”
I can tell I’m getting to her. A blush is creeping up her throat. If she feels anything close to what I feel in her presence, she’ll stop to listen. She turns to me, a look of raw pain and fury in her eyes. I expect it. Deserve it.
“You lied to me!”
“I never lied to you. You didn’t ask me any personal information, and I didn’t offer it. As I recall, you didn’t even want to know my name.”
She’s about to respond, the anger flashing in her beautiful blue eyes, but Walter’s voice stops her.
“Oh, good! You’re still here. I wanted to invite you both to dinner tonight. I know it could prove awkward, but regardless of whom I choose to design this particular office suite, I know I’ll be working with both of you again in the future. I think very highly of the pair of you, and I’d enjoy your company. Chez Pascal’s at eight?”
I nod warmly. I don’t need to feign my pleasure. I like Walter. I enjoy his company.
And I’m even more pleased at the opportunity of having Ren there as well. After all, a captive audience can’t dismiss my apologies.
Chapter Nine
“Is there something wrong with your cassoulet?” Lucas’ deep voice penetrates my thoughts.
I don’t know, is there something wrong with your moral compass?
I already know the answer to that question. Yes. Definitely something wrong and wildly off-kilter with his compass.
Lucas knows there’s nothing amiss with my dinner. Everything is always delicious at Chez Pascal’s. Can Walter detect the mocking bite in Lucas’ tone? Probably not. He’s far too kind to understand the malice someone like Lucas Fields can exude. He examines my cassoulet with concern. “Should we send it back? Or perhaps order you something else?”
“No, please. It’s delicious. My mind was just wandering.” And it was. I was thinking about how amazing it felt to have Lucas pounding into me, driving me mad with want. My nipples are tightening just at the thought of it. I can’t help it.
I should be thinking about revenge, but unfortunately, my body’s not cooperating.
“Where to?” Lucas asks. He’s smirking. He knows exactly where it’s wandered. The asshole.
I decide to turn his question to my advantage. “My mind’s bursting with plans for your new office suite, Walter. You know what I was like when I designed your houses with Melly. Once I’ve developed a vision, I can’t wait to get started.”
Walter chuckles. “I would think, Ren, since you’re so gifted with residential interior design, that’s where you’d want to focus your efforts.”
That’s not what I want to hear. He’s basically telling me I didn’t get the contract, in so many words.
“You have a unique ability to see the potential of a space,” Lucas says. His liquid brown eyes appraise me over the rim of his highball glass. He sips pensively at his scotch. “Not to mention a flair for changing interior without compromising structural integrity. You do your homework. I’m impressed.”
Why is he being so nice? I’d be lying if I said his words didn’t make me glow inside. It’s as though I’ve drunk an extra sip of my favorite champagne. His words make me warm and fizzy and they go straight to my head.
But he’s a liar. Paying false compliments probably comes as easy to him as breathing.
Walter nods in agreement. “You should see our house on Mackinac Island. The one here in the city is beautiful, but Renata outdid herself up there. It’s so special to both my wife and I. It’s where our grandbabies visit us in the summer. Maybe you’ll both visit us there one day.”
It’s not intentional, but Walter speaks as though Lucas and I would be visiting together, as a couple would do.
The idea is preposterous.
And yet so, so appealing.
The man is a liar and a cheat.
He’s also the most skilled lover I’ve ever encountered. The most considerate. Not for one moment did I feel awkward with him.
“I’m going to turn in early and give Melly a call,” Walter says. “The waiter’s under instructions to put everything on my tab, so please, enjoy a few drinks for me, and maybe some of that sticky toffee pudding I know you like so much, Renata.” He shakes both our hands, gives my shoulder a quick squeeze. I know this was a difficult decision for him, and I respect his business acumen and professionalism. I’m not going to hold a grudge.
At least, not against Walter.
“I thought you said only your Nonna gets to call you Renata.”
“Walter’s not quite old enough to be my grandfather, but he and Nonna would get on famously. He gets a pass, too.” I realize I’m alone with Lucas, and I can’t simply storm away from him in the middle of such an elegant restaurant. It would cause a scene.
I’m not sure I want to, anyway. He pulls at me like a magnet.
“As I recall, I called you Renata last night, too.”
Oh, I recall.
He looks like a panther in his sleek, charcoal suit, his dark eyes snaring me in their gaze. But he doesn’t want to pounce on his prey. He just wants to toy with it.
“If only I’d known your name, Lucas. I’d’ve avoided a lot of trouble.”
“Is that really what you wish had happened?” He gestures to the waiter, who hurries over. “Could we have some of the sticky toffee pudding, please?”
“Of course, sir. One, or two puddings?”
Lucas smiles at me. Except it is the smile of a panther, a lazy, sensuous assault on my senses that—I hate to admit—is working. “One pudding, two spoons,” he responds, never taking his eyes from mine.
The waiter nods and hurries away. “I don’t share my desserts,” I say obstinately. There is no way in hell I’m going to admit that I think it’s adorable that he paid attention when Walter mentioned the pudding and then ordered me one.
“That’s fine. I’ll just watch you eat, then. I could do that all night.”
This has to stop. “Lucas, enough. You already beat me. We both know I’ll lose the contract.
What is this sick game of yours that you have to prove you can turn me on, too?”
Those eyes glitter dangerously. “That’s what you think this is? Did it ever occur to you that I saw a beautiful woman in the bar and fell head-over-heels for her, only to discover she’s my competition for a job we both desperately want?”
The sticky toffee pudding arrives, but I can hardly see it when the waiter places it between us because tears are swimming in my eyes.
“I had to have you, Ren, even if it was for one night only. I knew you’d hate me the next day, but it was worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
I can’t stay here another minute. If everyone in this restaurant stares at me, so be it. I reach for my purse and stumble across the floor in search of the coat check, my tears blurring my vision.
When the day started, I thought the worst part of it would be losing Walter’s contract.
I was so wrong.
Chapter Ten
I find her on the sidewalk, holding up the collar of her coat against the Chicago wind. “At least let me get you a taxi,” I say.
“I’m taking care of it,” she responds flatly.
“I know, but I want to take care of it for you.” I spot a cab and hold up an arm. The driver neatly cuts across two lanes of traffic and pulls up to the curb in front of us. I open the door for Ren and she sidles in.
I move to close the door, but her soft voice stops me. “Aren’t you coming?”
I don’t wait for her to ask twice. I hop in next to her, giving the cabbie the address of our hotel. I’d been prepared to do the right thing, to send her off on her own, and wait for the next taxi. But she surprised me once again, inviting me to join her.
It’s not far to the hotel. There’s not enough time for me to say all I want to say to her. To apologize. To explain myself.
But somehow I don’t think she wants to hear any of it.
I reach into my coat, moving my phone aside as I reach for my wallet. I can see the screen is lit up, that I have a new notification.
Walter wants to meet with us both in the morning.
Ren looks pointedly at my phone. “I got it, too. I checked my e-mail while I was waiting for a taxi.”
So we’ll know what his decision is at the meeting Walter’s scheduled in the morning. Ren seems to be so certain he’ll choose my proposal over hers. If it were any other client, I might agree that my company’s prestige and assets would pull some weight in the decision, but Walter isn’t like that. He’ll choose whomever he thinks will design the offices that suit Simmons Corporation’s newest venture.
And then it hits me. Ren believes she may not be that person. That despite all her hard work, her designs don’t quite fit the bill. I can’t imagine why she’d think that. Before going to dinner tonight, I took the time to sit down and research her thoroughly. Her business. Her on-line portfolio. She’s designed some of the most amazing houses I’ve ever seen. Despite her youth, she’s managed to build a successful solo career in just a few years. But houses aren’t commercial buildings. And while she might know she absolutely rocks in one arena, maybe she’s not feeling too confident about her abilities in the other. “Whatever happens tomorrow, Ren, you know you’re an amazing interior designer, right?”
She smiles humorlessly, Chicago’s fluorescent skyline illuminating her scarlet lips. “It’s a little late to try to make me feel better.”
We’ve reached the hotel. I finish paying, thank the driver, and open the door for Ren. I offer her my hand, but I’m not surprised when she doesn’t take it. As she steps out of the cab, I notice a few flurries are falling. Some catch on her dark mane of hair, and my throat constricts. She’s so beautiful, so intelligent. We care about the same things. She’s perfect for me.
But she’ll never want anything to do with me again.
We meet in the hotel lobby over breakfast. Not that I have much of an appetite. Ren seems to have none. She doesn’t even make a pretense of eating, just sipping at a large mug of coffee she places in front of her like a shield. It’s unfair that Walter’s forcing us to be in such close proximity to each other, considering we’re rivals. Not that I mind in the least, but I know it’s a huge source of discomfort for Ren. I should have proposed earlier that we meet with him separately. But as I look across the table at her, I realize I’ll grab any chance to be near her.
“Ren, I value you and your work so much, but this time, I had to go with Lucas. His vision for these offices suits our needs to a tee. I hope we can continue to work together, and even more importantly, I hope we’ll stay friends.”
“Of course, Walter.” She stands and shakes his hand. She’s wearing an emerald green sheath with those sexy black pumps again. She seems so small, so delicate, so breakable. Which is ridiculous, because she’s anything but. Still, I want to go to her, to hold her and comfort her. To be the one to walk her back up to her hotel room and pour her a glass of wine and tell her everything will be fine. One small defeat doesn’t mean she’s conquered.
But I can’t, because I’m the conqueror.
Walter gives his excuses, tells us he has a conference call he needs to jump on. Ren and I are alone once again.
“I guess this is good-bye then,” she says.
My gut tightens. It feels like somebody’s thrown me into icy water. “You’re leaving?”
She nods. “My studio’s about a half-hour outside of the city. I can’t afford Chicago prices. If I’d acquired this contract, then maybe…” Her voice trails off. She holds out her hand. “Best of luck, Lucas.”
She’s leaving. What’s more, she’s going without angry words, without any recriminations. She’s not trying to make me feel guilty. The most amazing woman I’ve ever met is walking out the door, and all I can do is let her, because I don’t deserve to try to make her stay.
“Same to you, Ren.” I run my fingers through my hair and let out a huge sigh. I can’t help it.
“I know a great barber just a few blocks away who could help you with that,” she says. I can hear the amusement in her voice.
“With what?” I ask. I touch my beard self-consciously. It grows so fast, I gave up shaving regularly long ago.
“Not the face. The hair. If you want a haircut that badly, I know just the girl. She cuts my hair, but she’s great with guys as well.”
What’s wrong with my hair? Like the beard, there’s no point trying to keep it tamed, so it grows where it wants until I have time for a cut. “I’ll pass. I think what I need is a trip to the gym. Trust me, it’s not my hair that’s frustrating me.”
Chapter Eleven
Lucas is at the gym.
And I still have his keycard in my pocket.
I shouldn’t be doing this. But there’s quite a few things I shouldn’t have done in the last two days. I’m on a roll. If bad decisions were candy, I’d have a toothache. Besides, I don’t want to steal Lucas’ plans. I’m not trying to sabotage him.
I just have to know if his designs are genuinely better than mine. The need to know this is tearing me apart inside. If Lucas genuinely deserves to win this contract, I can move on with my dignity somewhat intact. Will I still be pissed that he didn’t tell me who he really was? Hell yes.
But at least I’ll know the better design won, and it wasn’t just the weight of his name that sealed the deal. I plug the keycard in the lock, turning the door as quietly as possible once it turns green. Tiptoeing in, I stop just inside the door, listening for Lucas. I don’t hear a peep. He’s safely at the gym. I spot Lucas’ briefcase right by the door. Drafts are poking out of the top. I can envision him unfurling them on the table with a show of predatory grace. My muscles clench, and sweat beads on my brow, but it has nothing to do with being nervous about being caught.
This is too easy. I can pop the portfolio out of his briefcase, take a peek, and be gone in under two minutes. He’ll never be any the wiser. As for my pride, that may be harder to recover, but I’ll deal with that once I’ve gotten out of this ho
tel room.
I scan the designs. They’re good. Quite good, in fact. Different from mine. Dark furniture. Less windows emitting natural light and more fixtures with brass finishes. A more traditional approach, where each executive has double doors allowing for privacy, with his assistant’s office right outside of it. I’d designed a more open, fluid concept, where the executives would be more accessible to both their assistants and everyone else working on the floor.
Lucas’ design is bold and appealing, but it’s also masculine and traditional.
I sigh inwardly. The patriarchy wins again.
Still, I totally get why Walter chose Lucas’ vision. I can admit where I went wrong. I designed the offices I thought Walter should want—modern, sophisticated, and sleek—rather than the suite I knew would satisfy.
Lesson learned, girl.
I turn to go, but a sharp intake of breath stops me in my tracks. I look back, but there’s no one behind me. And yet, I can hear it now, a series of pants, each one growing louder. The sound of exertion mingled with the rasp of a groan.
A groan of pleasure.
Lucas’ groan.
I tiptoe along the wall, past the bathroom door, past the closet, and peek my head around the wall. I’m not sure what to expect. Lucas with another woman? He owes me nothing, but it would wound my pride, I’m not going to lie, to see that he’s already taken someone else to bed.
There’s no one else with him. He sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, eyes screwed closed in concentration. He’s pummeling himself with his fist, stroking his impressive length with quick, hard thrusts. The muscles in his thighs cord up as he levers himself against the mattress. He dips backward, and I can see his abs are rippling with sweat. His jaw is clenched together in pleasure.
