Our Cracked Pieces (The Pieces Series Book 2)

by M. E. Clayton

  Grayson was another story, though.

  After graduating with his teaching degree from Boston College, Grayson had gone back to California to teach in our hometown. However, that only lasted a couple of years before he had relocated to Chicago and has been here ever since.

  And I got it. I really did. My brother loved me, and it was important to him that he could get to me in a timely fashion if I ever needed him. He wanted to be able to get to me in a matter of minutes, not hours. However, I wasn’t that scared eighteen-year-old girl anymore.

  I’d never be her again.

  That being said, I got a perverse satisfaction whenever someone underestimated me. I liked it when someone sized me up and stereotyped me. I liked it when they saw the blonde hair, big boobs, and thought ‘blonde bimbo’ or ‘blonde airhead’. Like many people, I was able to say that, while I’ve done some stupid shit, I wasn’t stupid.

  I looked Mr. March in his eye, our nice, neat, typed-up reports between us on the conference table, and asked, “So, am I correct in understanding that you are telling me that the Charter account found in the firm’s database, but not in the parent company’s database, is usual practice?”

  Mr. March cleared his throat, and his beady little eyes glanced over at Brandon, my colleague and partner, before looking back at me. “Wendel Simonson does not micromanage its firms,” he replied.

  I leaned back in my chair. “I never said it did, Mr. March,” I countered coolly. “But this is the only account that doesn’t line up with the parent company’s database. Every account at the Goodville branch matched perfectly. And every account at this branch matches perfectly, except this one.”

  Wendel Simonson owned Wendel Simonson, Incorporated, and he recently passed away a few months ago. After his death, his will had been clean and simple. With only two sons, who already worked for the company, they were to receive equal stock in the company, and life would go on as normal, they were just a little more wealthier for it.

  The first thing they’d requested, after the will had been read, was a full audit of the entire company. By all accounts, Wendel Simonson had been very savvy and successful, but he had also come from the deal-on-a-handshake era, and when dealing with a successful marketing company, the sons hadn’t wanted to take any chances that they’d be inheriting some golf-game deals and favors. So, they had contacted HCA for a complete account of the corporation’s business dealings.

  And it’d been a surprise audit.

  Brandon and I had been assigned this branch, and Trudy and Marissa had been assigned the Goodville branch, and they had reported perfect findings for that branch. The parent firm had been assigned a team of six auditors, and they had reported the same thing.

  The thing about surprise audits was they had to be done as a coordinated plan of attack. If you audited one branch of the business, word got around quickly, and it gave the other branches a chance to hide shit or start pointing fingers. So, HCA had sent us all out to hit each branch last Monday, and surprise had been on our side.

  “Surely, you realize that Wendel Simonson isn’t concerned with minor accounts, Ms. Lewis,” he replied. “We have the authority to take on smaller accounts.”

  “Except, this account isn’t all that small, now, is it?” I pointed out. “And I’m not here to question your authority, Mr. March. I’m simply asking why this particular account is not in the parent company’s database?”

  His finger pulled at his collar, and no one should be sweating that much in an air-conditioned building. “A simple oversight, I’m sure,” he lied.

  “For seven months?” I leaned forward and placed my arms on the table. “Explain that to me.”

  He glanced over at Brandon again, and Brandon just chuckled under his breath. “It is possible, Ms. Lewis, when dealing with as many accounts as we do.”

  I leaned back. “I agree,” I said as I reached into my briefcase and pulled out another folder. Tossing it on the conference table, watching it come to a stop in front of him, I cocked my head. “That’s why I tore that account apart, and I don’t have to tell you what my findings were, do I, Mr. March?”

  He was in a full-blown panic now. “Look, I don’t know what you think you found-”

  I gestured towards the folder. “Open the file and you’ll see exactly what I found.” With that, Brandon stood up, signaling the end of the meeting.

  Mr. March started sputtering. “Wait, hold on-”

  Brandon let out a tired sigh. Not tired from the job, because he lived for this shit, but tired from the same old crap when someone got caught up in the wrong. “Our findings have already been submitted to the parent company, Mr. March.” Brandon jerked his head towards the reports on the table. “This has all really just been a courtesy since you are the branch’s acting manager.”

  I grabbed my briefcase and stood as well. “Get yourself a good lawyer, Mr. March,” I said. “That’s about all the advice we can give you.”

  Hansel March stood up. “You…you can’t do this!’ he sputtered. “It’s a misund-” Brandon and I walked out in the middle of his lies.

  It didn’t always happen this way. Sometimes, they slumped in defeat. Sometimes, they gave in with as much dignity as they could muster.

  Mr. Hansel March was going to take everyone who was involved with this account down with him.

  It still wasn’t going to save him, though.

  Chapter 16

  Lorcan~

  She wasn’t being subtle at all.

  Like, at all.

  And, normally, I didn’t mind a hot woman hitting one me. However, hitting on me in the middle of a business luncheon bothered me.

  A lot.

  When Tana Acer, with Silver Images, Incorporated, had called to schedule a business meeting with me, I had researched the company and had found that its potential was worth a meeting. Cavanaugh Industries had its fingers in damn near everything, and marketing was one of those interests. So, when Ms. Acer had arranged this meeting, I had been interested in finding out more about Silver Images.

  I wasn’t here to get my dick sucked.

  Since Cavanaugh Industries’ conception, I have never mixed business with pleasure, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to start now.

  After graduating from Texas West A&M, I had returned to Chicago to start up my own business. With an MBA and my family’s name and money behind me, it hadn’t been that much of a hardship. Sure, I had paid my parents back as soon as I had been able, but that didn’t take away from the fact that I’d had help getting CI started. But six years later, my success was my own. I worked my ass off, and I spent more time in my office than I did my condo.

  My sister, Molly, also moved back to Chicago after graduating from UC Berkeley, and she spent most of her time crusading for charities and women’s groups. Some might consider her a rich socialite, but that wasn’t her at all. Molly’s mission in life was deeper than anyone would ever know.

  The problem with having money, good looks, and the last name Cavanaugh was that you had women like Tana Acer in the world who wouldn’t care if I clubbed baby seals every Friday night as long as she could be seen on my arm, have access to my bank accounts, and use my last name to help her climb the Chicago social ladder.

  And don’t get me wrong. Had I met this woman in another time or place, I would have gladly let her suck my dick. But this was a business meeting. And even if I had met her in another time or place, I still wouldn’t be stupid enough not to see her for what she was. I would have let her suck my dick, then sent her on her way.

  Pussy didn’t blind or control me.

  No matter how good.

  With walnut-colored hair, wide hazel eyes, a firm, ample rack, and legs for days, Tana probably wasn’t used to the word ‘no’, but she was going to hear it today. Besides, I found myself partial to blondes these days.

  A blonde with brains, a body that won’t quit, and an attitude that made my dick hard.

  “So, what do you think, Lorcan?” I had giv
en her leave to use my first name when we had met and shaken hands, but now I wish I had reserved that privilege. “I think Silver Images and Cavanaugh Industries could accomplish great things if they got in bed together.” She leaned in closer to the table, full cleavage on display.

  I gestured towards her presentation folders. “You’ve put together a very compelling presentation, Ms. Acer.” No way was I using her first name, though she had extended the same courtesy. “I will present it to my marketing division and have someone reach out to you later this week.”

  Her face fell a bit. “Oh,” she muttered “I thought, well…I assumed you made these decisions, and I’d be hearing back from you.”

  I leaned back in my seat and cocked my head to the side a bit. “Ms. Acer, I employee thousands of people, all who are at their top of their game,” I told her. “I have seventeen different divisions that make up Cavanaugh Industries. Do you honestly believe my head of marketing can’t handle this joint venture if we so choose to move forward with Silver Images?”

  That pretty face of hers blushed. “No…I mean, of course. Of course, Silver Images has faith in every division of your company.”

  “Good.” I gave her a sharp nod. “So, as previously stated, someone will be in touch.” I signaled the waiter.

  “Oh…uhm, that’s it?”

  I arched a brow. “Was there more?”

  She quickly regained her composure. “Well, maybe we could talk about this some more,” she suggested. “Maybe over drinks.”

  “It’s one in the afternoon, Ms. Acer,” I remarked drolly.

  The waiter made his way over, and with a hefty tip and a ‘thank you’, I handed him my card, and prayed he’d be quick about it. While I had no interest in this woman, I also had no interest in being rude to her either. Or mean if she refused to take the hint.

  She smiled, and she really was a beautiful woman, if a bit obvious. “How about after-dinner drinks?”

  “As nice as that sounds, I don’t socialize personally with anyone connected to the business side of Cavanaugh Industries, Ms. Acer,” I informed coolly. “Besides, I work around the clock. I don’t have time for drinks.”

  “Oh,” she let out softly, almost like she was thinking out loud. “I hadn’t realized…”

  The waiter chose that moment to return with my card. I took it and stood up, forcing Ms. Acer to have to stand as well.

  I reached out and shook her hand. “Thank you for the meeting,” I said. “You’ll hear from us soon.”

  Her nod was unsure, but she was just probably not expecting to get rejected today. “Oh, okay,” she stammered a bit. “Thank you, Lorcan. I really appreciate your time.” I just nodded and headed for some fresh air.

  Normally, I’d escort her from the restaurant, but I didn’t want to give the woman hope of any kind. Determined men had nothing on determined women.

  And because my driver was well-paid, my car was pulling up within seconds after sending him a text. James was worth every penny I paid the man because efficiency and loyalty were hard to find these days. But I think a lot of that came from the fact that I didn’t make him get out and open my doors for me. I was a grown ass man. I could open my own damn doors. I could also drive my own damn cars, but in Chicago, it was easier to have a driver when I had as many business meetings as I did.

  Getting into the back of the car, I unbuttoned my suit jacket and relaxed against the seat. I still had a hell of a day that was going to take me into midnight, but I didn’t mind. I’ve learned that being busy was more conducive to my well-being than idle time. I was still working on that temper of mine, all these years later.

  Closing my eyes because James didn’t need directions, he knew my schedule as well as I did, I enjoyed the short drive to my next meeting, and let the image of a crazy blonde play in my mind.

  Chapter 17

  Rowan~

  “I can’t believe you’re about to pop,” I said, rubbing Mystic’s tummy like I always do when I see her.

  “I can’t believe we’re having twins,” she grumbled back. “You’d think twins in the family should be inherited information. Talk about a surprise.”

  I laughed. “Well, with no one talking to Gage’s dad, it’s kind of hard to get that kind of information, don’t you think?”

  Mystic smiled. “I had wanted to keep working, is all.”

  “You still can,” I pointed out.

  “And leave two adorable twins at home?” She snorted. “Hardly.” And that was just another reminder of why Mystic Evans was my best friend. The woman was as honest as the day was long.

  I had met Mystic back in college, during our junior year. She had been a delightful introvert, and our Econ professor had told her his class wasn’t for weak people, all because he couldn’t hear her from the back row of the class. I had jumped to her defense and had given Professor Neilson a piece of my mind. He’d been impressed enough that he had held me after class.

  Two weeks later, he’d been keeping me after class for a piece of something other than my mind.

  Ahhh, Mr. Neilson.

  And though Mystic and I had chosen different career paths, we both had ended up in Chicago. Last year, Mystic had reconnected with her high school love while she’d been working for his best friend at Cavanaugh Industries, and they were married a mere week later. Pregnant after only four months of wedded bliss, Mystic was now about ready to add two more to her perfect life.

  Mystic’s husband, Gage Evans, was founder and CEO of Stymic Financial Holdings, and had more money than God. And looking around their penthouse was all the proof you needed. The place screamed money, but Mystic’s domestic touches kept it from looking like a museum.

  It was Sunday, mid-day, and Mystic and I were occupying her balcony, where she had the best view of the city, while Gage working in his home office. Gage was insanely possessive of Mystic and his time with her, but every now and again, he’d rein in his crazy and give us some girl time.

  Snatching a piece of watermelon off the luncheon fruit platter Mystic had laid out, I shrugged a shoulder. “Twins are probably going to work out better, anyway,” I told her.

  “How so?”

  “Instead of having to fight Cavanaugh to the death whenever we want to spend time with the baby, twins give him one kid, and me the other. We no longer have to share,” I pointed out.

  Mystic laughed. “You two are something else, I swear.”

  I just grinned. “The man just needs to be brought down a peg.”

  Mystic smirked. “And you see that happening?”

  “No,” I answered honestly.

  Lorcan Cavanaugh was every dirty fantasy every woman has ever had, and then some. The man was only twenty-nine, but he’s amassed a fortune in his young years. He was also six-foot-two-inches of black hair, grey eyes, six-packed muscle. Picture what you imagined a perfect Greek God to look like, and that was Lorcan Cavanaugh times ten. Tall, dark, and handsome had nothing on the man.

  And if that weren’t enough, the way he commanded the room with his confidence and assertiveness was a sight to behold. The man knew what he wanted and went after it with no apologies or explanations to anyone.

  He was sex on a stick, and the fucker knew it.

  “You guys are such fire and ice,” Mystic said. “Even Gage is entertained by you two.” Gage Evans was reportedly just as ruthless and commanding as Lorcan was, and his name was every bit as powerful. However, as brutal as Gage’s reputation was, rage and unhappiness no longer fueled him, and you could see it in how he’s softened over the past year. Not in business, mind you, but on the personal side of things.

  “It’s because he’s not used to not getting what he wants,” I snorted.

  Mystic’s grin was wide. “And he wants you.”

  That wasn’t a secret.

  Lorcan Cavanaugh’s been after me since we met a year ago in the lobby of one of his corporate offices where Mystic had worked. I had met her for lunch, and Lorcan and Gage had been heading back f
rom a business meeting.

  He had sized me up.

  I had sized him up.

  And the decision had been made to stay far, far, far away from him.

  With age and counseling, I’ve come a long way from that eighteen-year-old girl who had been manipulated and abused. Counseling had helped me with the guilt, and age had helped me with the impact those weeks had imprinted on my life.

  The only problem?

  I had no idea if I was fixed or not, or if I would ever be.

  It had taken me two years before I could finally date again. And when I finally had gone on a date, I’d had so many mixed emotions about it, it had been a disaster. While my date had been a great guy, with the realization that I could really like him and see myself getting serious with him, my mind had kept going to the physical portion of the relationship, and the anxiousness surrounding sex had made me a horrible, spacey, air-headed date, and Miguel never asked for a second date.

  Determined not to ruin my life by freaking out over sex, I had decided to take control of the situation. I had convinced myself that, as long as I was in control, it would be okay.

  And it worked.

  Kind of.

  In the bedroom, I was boss. I called the shots, and I did the fucking. Foreplay was nonexistent in my life, and I was okay with that. I was down to fuck, and that was all.

  But because I’ve never let a man put his fingers inside me, and because I’ve never given a man a blowjob since I was eighteen, and because I never let a man run his hands over my body, I really didn’t know if I was healed. I doubted it, though, since I was too chickenshit to find out. But I had no desire to be in the thick of things, and then freak out because memories were powerful motherfuckers. And Lorcan Cavanaugh was the type of man who would demand control in the bedroom.