On the way back to the conference room, Sophie trailed Malcolm and Zhang Wei and interpreted as they walked. Mr. Zhang waxed eloquent about the poetic significance of empty space in architecture.
All she got was a pit stop in the ladies’ room where she splashed her hands and face in the sink before the afternoon session began. It was twice as long as the morning one, and more technical. This involved Zhang Wei and his lawyers facing off with Maddox Hill’s legal department. They got deep into the weeds and stayed there for hours.
At some point in the afternoon, her voice got thick and cracked. Malcolm whipped his head around to glare at her as she coughed to clear her throat.
Then a shadow fell over her. She heard a popping sound and turned to find Vann next to her, twisting off the top of a bottle of chilled water. Everyone watched in silence as she took a quick, grateful sip. That was all she dared to take the time for.
The sky was a blaze of pink before they wrapped up the meeting. Dinner plans were announced, this time at the restaurant at the top of the South Tower, on the other end of Magnolia Plaza. Sophie was unsurprised when she walked out to see Sylvia approach her with that now-familiar look on her face.
“Same song and dance for dinner,” Sylvia said. “Head over there before Mr. Zhang, Mr. Maddox or Mr. Hill arrive. You don’t want them standing around before dinner trying to making small talk with no interpreter to help. Mr. Maddox hates that.”
Sophie let out a silent sigh. “Of course.”
“Are you familiar with the Magnolia Plaza complex? I’ll give you a map if—”
“I know it.” It was Vann’s deep voice behind her. “I’ll make sure she gets there.”
Sophie followed Vann into the elevator, too tired to feel self-conscious. Her eyes stung, and her throat was sore. She uncapped the water he’d given her earlier and drank deep. “Wow,” she remarked. “Those guys have stamina.”
“So do you,” Vann said.
Sophie slanted him a wry look as she drained her bottle.
“It’s true,” he said. “Don’t think Malcolm didn’t notice.”
“Oh, please,” she said. “He didn’t look at me once the whole day. Except to glare at me for being late this morning. And for coughing. Thanks for the water, by the way.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Vann said. “Malcolm doesn’t reward perfection. He expects it as his due. He doesn’t appear to notice if things go smoothly, but if something doesn’t measure up to his high standards, by God you’ll hear about it.”
“So being ignored by Malcolm Maddox all day is a good sign?”
“Very good,” he said. “You’re excellent. You never missed a beat. I don’t speak Mandarin, so I can’t vouch for your language skills, but there was good flow all day long. We got more accomplished than any of us expected. Because of you.”
“Hmph.” She tucked the bottle back into her purse. “It’s kind of you to say so. Is Malcolm always like that?”
“Workaholic, hyperfocused, obsessive? Yes. And he expects the same maniacal focus from everyone who works for him. Which makes for some guaranteed drama.”
“I was told he was a hard boss to work for,” Sophie said.
“He’s infamous,” Vann said. “You have to be like him to earn his approval. Drew is, at least before he fell in love. His niece, Ava, is, too, in her own way. So are you.”
“Me, like him? An alarming prospect.” She said it with a light tone, but Vann’s words made her hairs prickle with a shiver of undefinable emotion.
Like him? Maybe they did have some subtle, mysterious genetic similarities. But be that as it may, she couldn’t be seduced by the idea of getting to know her birth father. When her mother had learned about her stage IV pancreatic cancer, she’d been so afraid at the thought of Sophie being alone in the world. She’d pressed her daughter very hard for a promise that Sophie would approach Malcolm and his niece and nephew once she was gone.
She’d slipped away so fast. Just a few weeks afterward.
Sophie still remembered Mom’s chilly, wasted hand clutching Sophie’s fingers. You have more to give them than you have to gain from them. They’d be lucky to know you. I know I was. My darling girl.
The memory brought a sharp, tight lump to her throat.
She appreciated Mom’s effort. It was a sweet thought. But Malcolm Maddox was famously difficult. Even unlikable, by some accounts. The chance that they would truly connect was small. She couldn’t let her own loneliness set her up for almost certain disappointment. She’d just fulfill her promise to Mom, and move on.
Vann was talking again. She forced herself to tune back in. “...are kind of like him,” he was saying. “I’ve seen the hours you put in at work. You stay late every night.”
“That’s more a function of not having a social life than being dedicated to my job,” she said without thinking. “I stay late because why not, if I’m on a roll. There’s no one at home competing for my attention.”
“So you’re unattached?”
Heat rushed into her face “I’m new in town,” she said. “I just got to Seattle a few months ago. I’m still finding my feet.”
The elevator door rolled open, a welcome distraction from her embarrassment. They walked in silence on the cool breezeway beneath the great dome between the two towers, which was nearly deserted at this hour.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get any lunch,” he said.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “No pampering, right?”
He grunted under his breath as the glass elevator in the South Tower arrived and the door opened.
They got in, and the elevator zoomed up the side of the building. The top-floor restaurant had walls of floor-to-ceiling glass. The ambience was hushed and elegant, and the aromas from the kitchen made Sophie’s mouth water.
The host led them to a large private dining room bathed in the fading rusty glow of sunset. A long candlelit table was set for sixteen.
But there was no seat for her. She asked the waitstaff for another chair to be brought in, and was positioning it behind two chairs near the head of the table when they heard Malcolm’s deep voice outside the door. He was arguing with someone. The door opened, and that someone proved to be Drew Maddox, looking frustrated.
“...don’t see why you should be so concerned,” Malcolm snapped. “She doesn’t strike me as a type who needs coddling. And these young skinny females never eat nowadays, anyway. No fat, no carbs, no this, no that. Ridiculous creatures.”
He and Drew caught sight of Sophie at the same moment. Malcolm harrumphed, and made his way to the table with his cane, muttering under his breath. Drew cast her an apologetic look as she took her place behind Malcolm.
The rest of the party lost no time in sitting down to eat. Vann’s encouraging compliments had bolstered Sophie quite a bit, but it was harder this time to concentrate on the conversation without gazing with longing at the artichoke tarts, the succulent entrecôte, seared to perfection and cut into juicy pink slices with slivers of Grana Padano, the gemlike cherry tomatoes and scattered arugula leaves, the rosemary-thyme oven-roasted potatoes and the deep red Primitivo wine.
The aromas were dizzying.
Of course, it would be too late for her to order from room service once she got to the room. It would be peanuts from the minibar if she was lucky. Cue the violins. She hoped the clink of cutlery and the hum of conversation would cover the grumbling of her stomach. Suck it up, buttercup.
At long last, the men from the Zhang Wei Group made their farewells and took their leave. Now it was just the executives from Maddox Hill, and Sophie.
Malcolm drained his wine, and turned to give Sophie an assessing look. “Make sure this one is on call for all future meetings that require Mandarin,” he said, directing his words to Drew and Vann. “I don’t want anyone else from here on out.”
“Actual
ly, she’s our information security director,” Vann informed his boss. “She’s just filling in for Hsu Li and Collette. She usually directs the team on cyber—”
“She’s a better interpreter than Hsu Li or Collette. Much better.” Malcolm turned his scowl directly on Sophie. “What other languages do you speak?”
“Ah...fluently enough to interpret professionally, only Italian,” she told him. “But I’m not actually specialized in—”
“Then it’s settled. Whenever we require Italian or Mandarin, you’re up.”
“Ah...but I—”
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another long day. Not as long as I expected, though. We’re ahead of schedule.” Malcolm frowned, as if fishing in his mind for something to complain about, and then threw up his hands with a grunt of disgust when he couldn’t think of anything. “Well, then. Whatever. Good night.”
He hobbled out, cane clicking. Drew hurried after to help him to the elevator.
Sophie felt her body sag. She turned to Vann. “How far away is the hotel?”
“Not far,” Vann told her. “We’re in it already. The first six floors of this building is the Berenson Suites Hotel. Come with me. I’ll show you where your room is located.”
“Don’t we need to go down to the desk? We never checked in.”
“Sylvia took care of it. Your bags have been brought up. You’re in room 3006, and I’ve asked for a hotel employee to meet you at your door with a key card.”
She gave him a teasing smile as their elevator plunged downward. “What’s this I sense? Is this...dare I say it...pampering?”
“It’s been a long day,” he replied, grinning back at her. “I’d call it survival.”
The doors opened onto the third floor and Vann strolled with her down the hall. They turned the corner, and there was room 3006, with a uniformed young man standing by the door, holding an envelope with a key card to her. “Your luggage is inside, miss.”
“Thanks so much.” She took the envelope and fished out the card.
“And here’s your meal,” the man said, gesturing at the rolling cart full of silver-topped dishes. “May I take it inside?”
“Meal?” she said blankly. “Ah...no. You must have mixed me up with someone else. I didn’t order a meal.”
“No, it’s not a mistake,” Vann said. “I ordered the food.”
“You?” Bewildered, she looked at the cart, and then at him.
“From the look on your face in the restaurant, I assumed that tonight’s menu would be agreeable,” he said. “So I ordered you the same meal. I hope that’s okay.”
“Oh, dear. Was it so obvious?”
“Only if you were paying attention,” he said.
The fraught silence following his reply made her face heat up. She turned away and inserted her key card in the door, opening it and stepping back to let the hotel attendant wheel the cart inside. “I’m ravenous, yes,” she admitted. “A hot meal sounds great. But this definitely qualifies as pampering.”
“This is just smart management of human capital,” he said. “It’s stupid to misuse a vital resource just because you always have in the past. Tradition is not a good enough reason to be rude. It’s bad business. But Malcolm doesn’t listen to me. Not about this, anyway. So this is my imperfect solution.”
“Very kind of you,” she said. “I like to be considered a vital resource.”
“Malcolm certainly thinks that you are.”
The hotel employee said good-night and departed, leaving them standing there in awkward silence.
“Well, then,” Vann said. “I’ll say good-night. Enjoy your meal.” He turned to walk away.
“Wait!”
The word flew out of Sophie’s mouth against her better judgment.
Too late now. Vann had already turned around, eyebrows up.
“Would you come in and help me eat it?” she asked. “It’s a ridiculous amount of food for just one person.”
“I had plenty at dinner,” he told her. “You’ve been fasting all day.”
“Just have a glass of wine, then,” she said. “There’s a whole bottle. It’s wasted on me alone.”
He hesitated, and turned back. “All right. A quick glass of wine.”
She had a frantic moment as he followed her in. What had she just implied? Would he misinterpret it? The room was airy and luxurious, with a king-size bed dominating it, but Vann’s presence made the place feel breathlessly small.
“Would you excuse me for a moment?” she asked. “I need to pop into the bathroom.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll pour the wine in the meantime.”
Once she shut the bathroom door behind her, her breath emerged in an explosive rush. She lunged at the mirror over the sink, gasping at the undereye smudges, the worn-off lipstick, the loose wisps around her face and neck. They had gone well beyond the romantically tousled look, and were now officially a straggly mess.
She still had her purse, which was a damn good thing, since it had her makeup wipes and some lip gloss and mascara. But, oh, the hair, the hair. She pulled out all the pins and unwound the coil. The effect, after a day of the tight twist, was wild waves every which way. The quickest solution was a tight over-the-shoulder braid, but she had nothing to fasten the end. The ties were packed in her toiletries case, which was zipped up in the luggage outside. She could put her hair back up, but that would take time. Her hands were cold and shaking. And he was waiting for her out there.
Damn. She’d finger-comb it, shake it out and act like that had been the plan all along.
Sophie fixed her face with the wipes and a little fresh mascara. She put the hotel’s courtesy toothpaste and toothbrush to good use and brushed her teeth before putting on a final slick of colorless lip gloss. It was the best she could do under these conditions.
Toothpaste and red wine, yikes. It was an unholy combination, but hey.
A girl had to do what a girl had to do.
Five
Vann poured out two glasses of wine and strolled over to stare out the window at the city lights. No big deal, he kept repeating. Just a quick drink with a colleague to unwind after a high-pressure day, and then he was out of here, leaving her to her well-deserved rest. No weirdness, no agenda, other than learning more about her and keeping her too busy to notice the forensic investigation under way back at headquarters. God knows when it came to that, Malcolm was keeping her busy enough without Vann’s help.
Her stamina was incredible. She was classy and tough. Elegant, composed, pulled-together. That voice, wow. It was a problem for him. Constant, relentless sexual stimulation every time she spoke. Like he was being stroked by a seductive invisible hand.
It kept his blood continually racing. He needed to shut. That. Down.
Sophie Valente couldn’t be Bryce’s IP thief. A woman as accomplished as she was wouldn’t waste her time and energy stealing the fruits of other people’s labors. She had plenty of fruits to offer herself. She had that rare quality he’d seen in only a few people, his friends Zack and Drew among them. Ava, too, Drew’s sister, and Jenna, Drew’s soon-to-be wife. They knew who they were and what they were meant to do on this earth, and they just got on with it, no bullshit.
People like that didn’t cheat and steal. Entirely aside from their morals and principles, it would just never occur to them to do so. It would bore them.
Insecure, jealous, damaged people cheated and stole. That wasn’t Sophie Valente.
The bathroom door opened. The light and fan flicked off. He turned to speak, and forgot whatever he had meant to say.
She hadn’t changed. It was the same silky white blouse over the tan pencil skirt. But she’d kicked off her heels and let down her hair. Her bare feet were slender and beautiful. High arches. Nails painted gold. That flirtatious glint on her toenails made the sweat break out on his back.
Her hair was a wild mass of waves swirling down over her shoulders. Her lips gleamed. Her skin looked dewy and soft. Fresh. Kissable.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice uncertain. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No, no. Take your time. It’s been a hell of a day.” He picked up her full wineglass and presented it to her.
She took it and sipped. “Mmm, thank you,” she said. “It’s very nice.”
He gestured toward the table. “Waste no time,” he urged her.
“Don’t mind if I do,” she said, taking her seat.
He sat down across from her as she loaded up her plate and forked up her first bite. “Oh, happy me. Are you sure you don’t want some? I’ll never manage to eat it all.”
“Positive,” he assured her. “Am I making you self-conscious?”
“Maybe a bit,” she said, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth.
“I could just go,” he offered. “And leave you to it.”
“Oh, stop.” She grabbed a dinner roll and tore a piece off. “This steak is delicious.”
“Glad you like it. Drew and I both complained to Malcolm about not giving you a lunch break. But he’s got this hazing mentality baked into his system. Everyone has to run the gauntlet and get clobbered to prove their worth. Classic Malcolm for you.”
“You shouldn’t have said anything. I can take whatever he dishes out.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We noticed.”
Her eyes dropped. “I heard that you met Drew when you two were in the military together. Is that true?”
“Marines,” he said. “Semper Fi. Two tours in Iraq. Fallujah, the Anbar Province.”
She nodded. “And you’ve been with the firm for how long?”
“I’ve worked here for over eleven years,” he replied. “Since I was twenty-three.”
“And you’re already the CFO? Of a big global company like Maddox Hill, at age thirty-four? That’s really something.”
“I started on the bottom,” he said. “After I mustered out of the marines, I was at loose ends. So Drew suggested that I take a job at his uncle’s architecture firm. He knew I was good with computers. I thought, what the hell? It might keep me out of trouble.”
Corner Office Secrets Page 4