by Morris, Liv
Standing paralyzed in the middle of the vast entrance, I wiped my palms over my jacket as my heart hammered in my chest. A tailored woman appraised me as she passed by. The killer instinct in her eyes intimidated the hell out of me and almost made me turn on my heels and head back out to the sidewalk. I didn’t want to turn into someone with that kind of edge and coldness in their eyes.
But I couldn’t run away in fear either, so I decided to pull up my big girl panties and go to the interview. I steeled my shoulders and headed toward the security desk to get an entry pass.
“Can I help you, miss?” A man dressed in a black suit with questioning eyes bent down to address me. I was tempted to ask if he had an extra Xanax on hand.
“Magnolia Talbot. I have an appointment this morning with Michelle Lindsay in Human Resources.”
“ID, please.” He held out his large hand while I rifled through my tote and found my Alabama driver’s license.
After giving it a once-over, he huffed and typed something on his keyboard. A printer fired up next to him, and a paper card popped out.
“This is a one day pass. Use it to enter the turnstile behind me. Take the elevators on your right to the tenth floor. A receptionist will point you in the right direction.”
I took the card from the man and glanced over it. Today’s date and my name were printed on the front. I followed his instructions, then stood with a few others to wait for an elevator. No one looked in my direction, or any direction for that matter. Everyone was isolated in their own world.
As I rode the elevator up to the tenth floor, I tried to quiet my insecurities and convince myself I belonged here. At least I had the pass to keep as a souvenir, no matter what happened today. But I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in my stomach, making me feel that this interview would be the dreaded F-word—fail.
3
Lucas
At five till nine, I leaned against the art-lined wall outside my father’s office. My hands rested in my front pockets while I thought about what waited for me on the other side of the double wooden doors.
What game is dear old Dad playing?
The short announcement for a meeting was designed to keep me in the dark, and he’d succeeded this time.
I pushed off the wall, opened the doors, and strode inside the plush office suite. A whoosh of air followed behind me as the doors automatically closed.
“Good morning, Vanessa,” I greeted my father’s secretary as I headed toward her desk.
Vanessa and the spectacular view of Lower Manhattan were the only two bright spots in the office of stony black furnishings accented in cold chrome. The icy silver-toned carpet felt like I was standing on a frozen lake—one wrong move and the floor might crack.
“Lucas, you’re looking dashing as usual.” Vanessa gleamed at me with a teasing smile that extended up to her kind, brown eyes. Her gray hair mixed with strands of black, ending at her shoulders.
“And you’re way too lovely to be sitting at this desk for my father.”
“Always the charmer.” I’m anything but.
I sat on the corner of her desk, one of my legs resting on the floor. I wondered if she’d still smile at me if she knew my dark secrets. She’d likely push me off the desk, hoping I land on my ass.
She began working for my father when I was an awkward teenager, way before I grew into my six-foot-two frame. As an older female who seemed to actually care about me, she was the closest thing to a mother figure in my life. It blew my mind how such an endearing soul could work for my father with his bastard reputation. At least he paid her somewhere in the middle six figures for her captivity on the top floor of this corporate hell.
“I assume he’ll call me in when he’s ready. Or are we waiting for the attorneys?” I reached for the crystal globe on Vanessa’s desk. The glass ball disappeared in the palm of my hand.
The first time I met her, I’d tossed it into the air as she’d held her breath. I’d caught it with ease and flashed her a mischievous smile. Those were happier days—before my life changed forever.
“Well, you’re the only one scheduled for the meeting,” Vanessa muttered, shaking her head.
“Interesting. This is personal then.”
I stood up from the desk and ran my fingers through my hair, defusing the unease prickling over my skin. I couldn’t remember the last time my father and I had been alone in his office without a sideshow of lawyers.
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, still acting as if she had no idea what the meeting was about. She probably didn’t. I could always count on her to give me a tidbit of information. Not enough to expose her loose lips, but enough to help me out.
“Speaking of personal,” she said in a sneaky inquisitive way, “I saw a society photo of you and your current girlfriend. She’s quite the looker. Anything serious?”
“She’s an ex,” I stated, returning the crystal globe to its rightful place on its stand. I didn’t add the term “girlfriend” either. Barbie and I had a bought-and-paid-for kind of relationship.
“I give up on you.” Vanessa threw her hands up in the air with a huff.
“Yeah, don’t expect a Mrs. Lucas Shaw from me in this lifetime.” The truth was, I’d given up on myself twenty years ago.
“Okay, Peter Pan.” She glanced at her computer screen, the smile disappearing from her face. “Your father is ready for you.”
“Wish me luck.” I threw the sentiment over my shoulder as I passed by Vanessa.
Pulling my shoulders back, I stood tall. I had a height advantage over my father, and I used it every chance I got. I turned the heavy handle to his office door and walked inside Lucifer’s lair.
Bartholomew Shaw stood ramrod straight behind his massive desk, facing the vast skyline out a wall of windows. His hands were clasped behind his back.
“Have a seat, Lucas,” he ordered in his baritone voice, flat and void of emotion. He’d learned to mask his hate well too.
“I’ll stand.” I strode to his desk, erasing the space between us.
“Have it your way.” He spun toward me, and our eyes connected. His were black like his soul. Mine were blue like my constant mood.
“When have I had it my way?” I threw down the first verbal punch, and he jerked back as if I’d hit him.
“Never. And I intend to keep that perfect record.” My father regained his footing.
“We’ll see.” I glanced around the empty office where his attorneys usually watched our interactions. “Where are your lawyers? Circus out of town?”
“Working on what I called you in here to talk about. We’ve had a serious offer for this company.”
He eyed me for a response, but I remained silent, waiting for him to continue. We’ve had countless attempts from others to buy Iron Gate, so this one must be extra fucking special—as in way over asking price.
“Considering you’ve never settled down and give us an heir for the next generation, I decided to vet this offer. But there is one problem, as you know.”
I laughed and shook my head while my father’s eyes narrowed in anger. Everything was crystal clear in the muddy waters our family had sunk into. My mother’s great-grandfather founded the company and had been smart enough to include a simple clause in the by-laws: the only way to sell Iron Gate was with a total consensus of the shareholders. It was all for one or none.
Dad needed my vote, and it was the only leverage I had on him. Without it, I’d lose the input into my mother’s care, so there was no way in hell I’d ever let go of it. Unless he made concessions—legal ones he’d never agree on.
“What will it take?” he hissed at me like a venomous snake.
He splayed his hands over the embossed leather top of his desk. The sneer on his lips communicated his utter contempt for me, along with the likely wish that I’d never been born.
I played my part as the dutiful son and attended a prestigious college, then Harvard Business School. I made those choices to stay involved in the company, b
ut if I had my wish, I wouldn’t be working under his watchful eye or hard-pressed thumb. I’d be hunched over a keyboard, spilling my guts onto a page in an attempt to write the next great American novel about a dysfunctional family—a topic I knew well since I belonged to one.
Unable to keep looking into his seething eyes, I walked past his desk and stood in front of the window. My head pounded. I wanted to rub my forehead for relief, but it would expose a weakness I couldn’t afford in his presence. I closed my lids for a few seconds, trying to will the pain away.
“Money?” he countered. “I’m willing to pay you off for good.”
“I already have more than I could possibly spend in my lifetime.” I turned around to face him. A flicker of worry flashed in his eyes.
“Is there anything?” He finally asked the question I’d held the answer to for twenty years.
“When was the last time you saw her?”
My father dropped his gaze and twisted his head away. He wouldn’t tell me what I already knew. It’d been years, maybe a decade, since he’d walked through the front door of our family home in Greenwich. He had separated himself from her.
“What do you want from me, Lucas?” he demanded, still not facing me.
“Guardianship. Over every aspect of her life.” I threw down the gauntlet. “Only then will you have my vote. I won’t discuss this matter until one of your legal clowns makes this happen.”
There was nothing left to say, and I didn’t want to hear his response—if he even had one—so I left his office. There wouldn’t be any more private meetings between us. The ball was in his court and my rules were on the table.
“My apologies, but he’ll be a bear today, so prepare yourself.” I stopped at Vanessa’s desk to pass on a warning.
“When isn’t he?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so scarce around here, okay? You have my number if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Vanessa.” She jumped as my father’s voice roared from his office. “You know you deserve better.”
“I’m going on a month-long vacation starting this weekend. Maybe I won’t come back,” she added with a slight wink.
“He’d end up sending out a search party. No one else will put up with his shit. Enjoy your freedom while you can.”
We shared a sad laugh as I left the office and headed to the elevator, wondering if my dad would finally give in. If he gave up his power concerning my mother, I could leave this company for good and never look back. Live a different life and be my own person, instead of feeling forced to become what was expected of me.
My chest tightened and shoulders tensed at the thought of heading to my office for another day of this pointless grind. I needed an escape like I needed my next breath. Without hesitation, I called my assistant.
“How did the meeting go?” Jared asked.
“I’m taking the rest of the day off. Cancel everything.”
“Okay. You have a meeting with Joseph Rickman at ten. Should I get your morning coffee beforehand?”
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“Wait, you weren’t kidding?” It was a fair question. I was proficient in sarcasm.
“Nope.” I punched the p.
“But you never take an unscheduled day off.”
“See you tomorrow morning, Jared. Maybe.”
“But, sir—” I ended the call before another word rushed out of his mouth.
As I rode down the elevator, I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top button of my stiff collar. I took a deep breath of sweet freedom and exhaled, then switched off my phone, giving myself a reprieve from my fucked-up life for a few hours.
The first thing I wanted to do was something normal I hadn’t done in years: order my own damn coffee. After that, anything was possible.
Since my journey started at the top, the elevator was crowded by the time it stopped at the tenth floor. A petite young woman dressed in black—nothing unusual there—marched inside with such fervor, everyone moved out of her way. She was mumbling under her breath, but I picked up her distinct southern accent in the mix of “I never” and “how dare she.”
Her raven hair was twisted high, exposing the pale skin of her delicate neck. I wanted to see more than her button nose profile, but I stood toward the back corner of the elevator.
As she cursed an unknown enemy, she tore the visitor’s pass in her hand to pieces, then threw the remains into the air. Muffled laughter broke out around her. A corner of my lip turned up.
What a fucking spitfire.
I exited the elevator and followed her into the lobby. Slowing my pace behind her gave me the chance to appreciate the way her skirt hugged and highlighted her sexy curves, and how her high heels showed off her toned calves.
Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she headed toward the coffee shop. An older businessman exited, holding the door for her. His eyes drifted from her face to her legs, then back up again. He walked away with a tall cup of coffee and a wicked smirk. I wanted to call him out for being a creep, but I had the same thoughts while I trailed behind her.
A few moments later, I was standing in the order line behind the young woman. She reached up, pulling the pins from her hair, one by one. I held my breath, as if I was waiting for her to start removing her clothes.
After placing the pins in her tote, she ran her fingers through her long, shiny black strands. I inched a little closer, catching a whiff of her perfume. Fresh, like a clean breeze—a complete contrast to the grungy odors of the city. It smelled of youth with potential. Maybe even cheerful—a foreign concept since I found most smiles to be just short of a sneer.
I was curious about her and fought the urge to strike up a conversation. We were in New York City where only nut jobs or people from other parts of the planet spoke to strangers without cause—I was neither.
I didn’t do relationships in the traditional boy-meets-girl sense. One innocent conversation might have led down a path I refused to tread. And after my morning, the last thing I needed was to talk to a pissed off female. Though…her anger didn’t show any longer. She wasn’t one to hold a grudge…like me.
As I ran a hand over my jaw, the woman scooted up to the counter and ordered. Once done, she glanced back over her shoulder in my direction. Our eyes locked for a beat or two, and I couldn’t look away.
Pale, luminous skin and raven black hair surrounded her green gaze. Her face had an unusual radiance, or maybe it was the angle of the overhead lighting. Either way, she was stunning.
Before she walked away, her full red lips curled into a subtle smile, like she was saying hello.
“Sir. Sir,” the barista called out, trying to get my attention. I turned toward the counter, trying to remember what the hell I was doing here. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Coffee,” I stammered out. How pathetic.
“All right. Can you be more specific?” The barista tilted her head, squinting her eyes at me. “Are you okay, sir?”
“A bit out of practice.”
I swiped my fingers through my hair and scanned the menu board hanging from the wall behind the counter. All I wanted was to buy a cup of hot coffee and leave unscathed. The word cappuccino sounded right to me, but the size seemed wrong. Tall was the smallest, which made no sense.
“How about a Grande cappuccino?”
“Is that with regular, skim, soy, almond, or coconut milk?”
Hell, why all the choices? I was a second away from turning my phone back on and texting Jared to find out what he always ordered for me.
“Regular?”
“Okay. Your name?”
“Herb.” I had no idea why I gave her the shortened version of my middle name, Herbert. It didn’t faze the barista, though. I bet there were a few Herbs running around the streets of Manhattan.
The barista gave the total, and I threw a ten on the counter and told her to keep the change so I could get my coffee sooner. She thanked me with a smile, then it faded away.
“Is there a problem?”
I asked.
“Sir, you need to move down to the other end of the counter and wait for your name to be called.” I followed the barista’s eyes and saw the beautiful young woman I’d avoided in line. Her eyes danced as she held her phone in my direction.
Was she taking a photo of me? I was just a guy ordering coffee, not robbing the place.
This invasion of my privacy was exactly why I didn’t go out in public often or date women I randomly met. There were too many crazies in the world.
4
Maggie
I discovered a new species of male in Manhattan: men in suits. They were everywhere. Walking down the street. Riding the subway. Standing in line for coffee right behind me. The city was a yummy box of man candy, and I had a hard time passing up the sweets.
I appraised the latest suit as he ordered coffee. He was a head taller than everyone else. Light scruff scattered across his tight, slice-of-country-ham jawline in a perfect touch of masculinity.
He wore a midnight blue power suit paired with a sky-colored tie. Gold cufflinks peeked out of his sleeves, with a faceted diamond that needed its own zip code.
I lowered my gaze to the cut of his pants. Tight. Euro. My preferred country when it came to men’s clothing. I loved the sporty Abercrombie look in college, but New York City converted me to brands like Armani and Hugo Boss. Tailored. Slick. Just like him. He resembled an Abercrombie model all grown up, the best of both worlds.
Mr. Armani pushed his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, but every strand resumed its previous position. Was this the kind of sorcery men in suits possessed?
One thing was for sure: his country club confidence mixed with polished Manhattan swagger was a welcome distraction from my disastrous interview. I could have almost laughed about it if the interviewer’s criticism hadn’t hit so close to home.
The woman had introduced herself as I made my way into her office. I gave her my normal elevator pitch on why their company needed me on their payroll. All the hot air coming out of my mouth took less than three minutes. After I’d finished, she’d sat stoned-faced across from me and shook her head. Then she’d reached into her desk drawer, pulled out a business card, and scooted it across the polished wood without saying a peep.