I return my brother’s smirk, refusing to let his fraudulent slip of tongue or his attempt to trigger my irritation ruffle me.
Instead, I smoothly make my way to the front of the room, intentionally looming over him.
“Well, big brother,” I say in false deference before tapping the stack of papers on the table, “If you would read the chart in front of you, it’s all right there, spelled out very clearly. I’ve laid the groundwork, done the math, and had it double-checked by our in-house business analysts. This deal is great for Danger Enterprises, a way to look forward and take our company to the next level.” I motion at the papers in front of every board member. “See for yourselves.”
The room fills with whispers and murmurs once again as the gathered executives peer closely at my report filled with graphs and notes. I sit back in my chair, and for the next several minutes, I watch them flip pages, their fingertips following the upward trajectory of profits, their excitement obvious on their faces. My grin grows by the second.
“My word,” says Charlie Reynolds, a graybeard executive who’s been with Danger Enterprises for as long as I can remember. He sits back in his seat, looking at me with newfound respect and admiration, shaking his head in what is almost awe. “Ladies and gents, this is impressive.”
The room stays quiet, but it doesn’t matter. I can see it in their eyes. They’re coming around, agreeing with me. It’s better than wild applause.
I’ve fantasized about this happening since the moment I took on the daunting task of securing this deal, and now that the moment is here, it’s all I can do to keep from shouting in triumph.
Everyone seems happy except for two people, and they’re scowling as if I pissed in their morning cereal.
Unsurprisingly, one is Chase. The other is my father, Robert Danger.
At sixty, his once-lustrous blond hair is now streaked with grey. His broad shoulders are hunched together as he leans forward in his chair at the head of the table, his hands steepled under his chin as if he’s praying. Not only is he glaring at me, but his cold blue eyes have a hateful look about them, almost as if he detests my very presence in the room.
It’s a look I’ve grown accustomed to. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been my father’s least-favorite child. I’ve never quite figured out why. Maybe it’s simply because Chase is his favorite and I’m a spare son, or perhaps because I’m quick to take command of a situation and father doesn’t like to be challenged. Definitely not by me.
Whatever the case, he has made it no secret that he’d prefer Chase to be his successor. The empire has its crown prince and I’m just the backup plan.
It’s a mindset I intend to change very soon. “So—”
“Quiet!” Dad snaps irritably, and the board room almost instantly stills.
He looks around the room for a moment, as if daring anyone to speak, before settling his eyes back on me. “Very nice work, Scott,” he says, somehow making his words sound more like an insult than a compliment, “but I’m not yet convinced that this is the direction we should be moving in.”
It’s an effort to keep from gritting my teeth. This should be a slam-dunk for me. “Then let me convince you—”
“The meeting is over,” Dad says dismissively, turning his attention to the room at large. “I’m going to take a couple of days to go over these proposals before we call a vote.”
The executives look at each other for a moment before gathering up paperwork and rising from their seats. The restrained formality of the meeting is over, but my father’s words have put a considerable damper on the excitement, and everyone is quiet, merely giving each other telling looks.
“You three stay,” Dad commands. Everyone in the room knows who he means. It rankles me that my father still talks to us like we’re servants or something.
I keep my cool as the room quickly empties, pretending not to notice the bastard grin on Chase’s face. Liv is the only one who is graceful, as she always is, studying me with a cool but inquisitive expression.
She sits regally in her chair like an ice queen, her platinum blonde hair pulled up into an elegant bun, her startling green eyes a reflection of our mother’s.
For some reason, her calm demeanor pisses me off more than Chase trying to fuck with me. At least he’s being transparent by being a dick, whereas Liv always hides her true intentions and thoughts behind an impassive mask.
She looks harmless enough, but I’ve learned to be wary around my dear sister. It’s the slow knife that kills . . . and Olivia can be very slow and very deadly.
“You three surprised me today,” Dad says, bringing me out of my thoughts. He sits back in his chair, appraising each of us with shrewd eyes. “Very nice work. Well done.”
I don’t miss the slight smile that plays across his lips when he looks between Chase and me. He won’t say it, but he enjoyed our little tiff during the meeting. It’s become his favorite form of entertainment, watching us go at each other’s throat in our quest to impress him.
It’s been going on for so long, it’s almost second-nature to us. From a young age, he’s forced us to compete for his affection, always pitting us boys against one another while basically ignoring Olivia.
First, it was who could excel in school, bring home straight As or get the recommendation for advanced placement classes. Later, it was who was a better athlete. It didn’t matter that Chase was older. I was expected to make just as many goals, beat his personal records, and do more all the same. And if I did, Chase made damn sure to beat me again the next time.
Later, in our college years, Dad would have us work in the various subsidiary groups that make up Danger Enterprises. He’d pump the executives for feedback, encouraging them to work us even harder just to see who would break and who would perform best.
In the end, only one of us will hold the reins of power at Danger Enterprises. I intend for that person to be me.
There are a few moments of silence, so I decide to speak up. “I think we all showed good insight . . . but one of the plans was—”
“Scott, your grandstanding is bound to get you into trouble,” Dad says, cutting me off. “Bragging about it doesn’t help either.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Grandstanding?” I ask incredulously. This coming from the man who made himself synonymous with the city of Bane to the point that I swear they’re going to rename the whole place ‘Danger’ when he’s dead? “Such as . . . ?”
“The whole bit about your deal being the best. Walking around here as if you’re the CEO. It’s . . . unseemly,” Dad says.
Chase snorts, but I don’t pay him any mind. “I was just—”
He charges on, holding up a hand to silence me. “You have talent, you have potential, and you are perhaps more passionate about the business than anyone I know.” He pauses, letting that sink in, but then he drops the other shoe. “But you are far too ambitious. Your ego is bigger than your talent. Your deal will get us slaughtered in the long run. When it comes down to it, you are impetuous and impulsive. Your brother is a better businessman, prepared to take things over when I retire with a steady hand, guidance, and a realistic outlook on the future. Not this pie in the sky magic math that only looks good on a chart.” He pushes my carefully crafted presentation to the center of the table, dismissing it. “We need real dollars and cents, smarts that will sustain Danger Enterprises, not a boardroom performance.”
His words drop on me like hot coals down my shirt. Anger boils up from the pit of my stomach. This arrogant, deluded old man thinks that I’m not prepared to run this company? I’m the one who has a plan to position us for not just the next few years, but the next generation.
But I don’t show emotion. I can’t let him think he’s getting under my skin. I don’t lose control, at least not with someone watching. I take the pain from his words, twist them and transform them, and turn them into fire, into something useful to help me reach my goals.
Dad’s full of shit anyway. He hates that I’m passi
onate about my work, that my aspirations are even bigger than his. And that despite his wanting me to fail, and sometimes even intentionally kicking my footing out from underneath me, I get back up every time, stronger than before. He knows I’m the best fit to take his place, today as evidence, but he wants to put me in my place. Maybe if I sat back and did what he asked, like Chase does, things would be different. That’s part of the reason he wants Chase to run the company, because he wants to have some semblance of control in place. Chase will allow that, but I never would. It’d be hard when I have so many ideas to further our brand, more than he ever dreamed, and that pisses him off. That I could be better. Better than Chase, and better than him.
They all look at me, waiting for my explosive reaction to Dad’s cutting words.
Instead, I stand up and button my double-breasted suit. “I see. Well, have a good night.”
I slowly turn and walk from the room, my rage gurgling in my gut like someone just dropped a whole tube of Mentos in a bottle of Coke. I spent three months busting my ass on this deal, working with my team to ensure it was as good as it could be, and to deliver a picture-perfect masterpiece of a presentation . . . only to have my own father reduce it to no better than a kid fucking around on E-trade with a credit card and a Magic Eight Ball.
Fuck that. I’ve worked too hard for this shit.
Maybe I should just quit and go somewhere my talents are actually appreciated, I think as I reach the elevator and decide to bypass it for the stairs. I have to work twice as hard as Liv and four times as hard as Chase, and still, it’s never good enough.
Even as the thought enters my mind, I quickly dismiss it. Danger Enterprises has been my entire life. Just because my dad is closed-minded, I won’t let him force me away from something that I fully intend on making mine.
Reaching the floor where my office is, I hear a familiar voice behind me. “Hey, what happened in there?”
I turn to see my best friend and colleague, Robbie Wright, peering at me, his chest heaving as if he’s just run up the stairs. I know he didn’t. Robbie’s just always going like a crazy man. His four-Rockstar-a-day habit probably doesn’t help things. He’s short and compact, a former college boxer who earned the nickname ‘Motorhead’ from his team, both for his never-ending energy and his never-ending mouth.
Despite the difficulties in getting him to shut up sometimes, Robbie’s my right-hand man. No matter what I need, he’s the one I can always depend on, and his brain is as sharp as his suits. He’s put a lot into this deal and feels personally invested, just like me.
“It’s not being voted on yet,” I say flatly, continuing on to my office. Robbie doesn’t need an insight into my issues with my father since he’s well aware of them already.
Robbie falls in behind me, however, scurrying to keep up. “Fuck, man, I thought you said we’d have your father’s backing today.”
Not responding, I make it to my office, taking off my suit coat and throwing it over the back of my chair. Despite it being a step down from Chase’s office, the floor-to-ceiling windows give a spectacular view of the city.
I take a moment, looking out at the view before me. When Dad was my age, Bane was just another podunk small city, one of those towns where high school football would draw crowds bigger than the entire town’s population.
Then my father began what was then Danger LLC. And now, Bane’s on the verge of being the next big city of the decade.
There’s already a satellite campus of the state university in town, and the Danger name has brought plenty of other industries to town. There have been some growing pains, but overall, Bane’s name is on the rise and is being hyped as the next Silicon Valley.
And in the center of it all, standing fifty stories into the air and dominating the skyline, is the Danger Building.
“Hello?”
I turn around and see that Robbie is staring at me. He’s standing at the door to my office, his eyes concerned. He’s good at reading between the lines and knows this isn’t the time to press me.
It’s one of the reasons I have him on my team, even if keeping a friend as your subordinate has plenty of its own challenges.
Running my fingers through my hair, I sigh, stressed out. I thought for sure I had this in the bag. “Fuck it . . . I need a drink.” I move toward the collection of fine whiskey and crystal glasses on the credenza in the corner but stop when Robbie speaks.
“Hey, how about we hit up a club or a bar instead? Change of scenery might do you some good. I know it’s been a while, but a piece of ass might help you clear your mind too.”
I should take a pass, go home, and gather my thoughts. I need to stay focused. In time, everyone, including my father, will realize I’m the one suited to lead this company. And I need to be ready when that happens.
But the thought of going home without relieving all this built-up tension is pure torture.
Fuck it.
I’ve got three months of pent-up energy, and some lucky girl is going to get all of it tonight. Every. Last. Bit.
Grabbing my wallet, I grin. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 3
Madison
Daily Horoscope, September 21st
Libra – Put your best self forward and watch what happens.
“Woo-hoo, Maddie’s got her groove back!” Tiff exclaims, looking me over with jealous eyes. “See? My horoscope readings can be a good kick in the pants to get your shit straight. Get it, girl!”
We’re in the break room in back of Stella’s getting ready for our shifts, and after that shitty fucking psychic reading, I’m kicking the bad vibes to the curb and grabbing life by the horns.
Starting by going all out with my wardrobe. Okay, maybe Tiff’s morning reading was the encouragement I needed to put forth a bit more effort today. But it’s hella easier to hear the good stuff than dire warnings, so best self . . . let’s make some magic happen.
I’ve turned the sexiness up to eleven tonight, skipping my usual ass-highlighting jeans for a skin-tight blue skirt, black fishnet stockings, and combat boots.
I haven’t worn a skirt since a certain bastard told me I looked cheap in them and strongly encouraged me to wear pants.
Even after that fucked-up situation ended, I’ve kept wearing jeans out of habit.
But tonight, I feel different. Defiant. Fierce.
I’m going to serve up drinks, look damn good doing it, and enjoy my shift.
Tiffany must be feeling my vibe too. “You’re gonna need Stella’s bat to keep all those pervy bastards off you with all that ass you’re serving up,” she jokes, looking pointedly at my butt. “Or they might even have to call 9-1-1 for those old geezers who come in here with their pacemakers.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Stop it.”
“Just sayin’. You’re gonna get extra-good tips tonight, girl.”
“Tips would be nice, that’s for sure,” I say, fussing with my hair. I’m in a good mood, and I’m not going to let anything or anyone change it. Including crazy voodoo ladies.
Turning around, I check myself out in the big mirror attached to the break room door . . . and damn, do I like what I see.
Tiff’s right. I look slamming tonight. This outfit is highlighting all my best assets, both T and A, my hair is cooperating, hanging shiny and smooth down my back, and my legs look long from my hem to my boots. I might not be ‘hot’ according to the skinny bitches’ magazines, but what the hell do they know? I’m a fucking knockout . . . a curvy fantasy of a woman most guys wish they could get their hands on.
For the first time in a while, I actually feel sexy. Comfortable in my own skin. Confident.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. I’ve missed it. Missed . . . being myself.
The thought triggers a twinge of anger in my gut, the memory of my past threatening my flow for a second. But I dismiss the voice in my head that isn’t mine, the one with ugly things to say that tear me down, with a pep talk of my own.
He�
��s nothing. A ghost of my past that got me where I am today. Strong, beautiful, ready to live the life I want.
Tiffany is unaware of the range of thoughts, both good and bad and good again, rolling through my mind. Instead, she’s focused on posing beside me, our reflections looking back at us from the mirror. She shakes her head, making her big curls bounce around her face. “Shit, if I’d known you were going all out tonight, I’d have dressed up too.” She putzes around with her top, trying to make the V-neck into something a bit more plunging.
“I could grab you some scissors if you wanna just slash at that? Really let it all hang out.” She glares at me, but I can see the hint of a smile popping out at the corner of her mouth. She knows I’m teasing, so I flip my hair and wait for her to sass back.
But she doesn’t crack a joke, instead just shimmies her chest at me. “I think the girls are fine where they are, and no shirt, V-neck or otherwise, could hide this awesomeness.” We both burst into laughter, dissolving into hitched breaths and wide smiles.
“What are you two girls giggling about?” asks a stern voice from the doorway before I can respond. I turn my head, seeing Stella standing with her hands on her hips.
I’ve known Stella for a long time, and I don’t think she’s changed a bit since day one. Large, meaty arms from a lifetime of hauling drinks, pulling kegs, and raising two stubborn boys stand out from an ample bosom. There’s nothing sweet or dainty about Stella. She works twice as hard as anyone I’ve ever known and has dealt with drunken customers, even really big guys, with a fierce mask that dares them to try her and see what happens.
Still, for all of her no-nonsense solidness, Stella’s very prim in her own way. She’s wearing a dress that reminds me of an old-fashioned school teacher, her gray-streaked red hair pulled up into a bun on top of her head.
The best thing about her, though, is her heart, stern but infinitely loving.
Tiffany laughs at Stella’s unsmiling expression, knowing it’s just image . . . for now. “Well hello, Boss Lady. I was just telling Miss Tits here about how she’s a knockout tonight. What do you think?”
Power Play: A Romance Collection Page 43