Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)

by Jenny Holiday

  Oh, and there was also the part where they were done. Relationship, entanglement, whatever—over.

  “Hi!” she said, stepping back to let him in. “Is this okay?” She twirled, showing off a long-sleeved black silk blouse, a dark purple pencil skirt, and low black heels.

  “Perfect,” he said, and meant it. She managed to look polished but not overly formal. He might have added that perhaps the skirt hugged her ass and hips a trifle too tightly, but he checked himself. Just because he had a dirty mind where she was concerned didn’t mean there was anything wrong with the skirt.

  “So Junior is a bit of a piece of work, hey?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, he’s pretty much the textbook entitled, spoiled, rich kid who never grew up.”

  “Because he never had to work a day in his life,” she said, her top lip curling up on one side. Coming from Cassie, that was probably the worst insult possible. “But I like Senior. And Tania.”

  “About Junior,” said Jack, who had just come from a one-on-one with Senior.

  “Yeah?” She turned to the full length mirror opposite the bed and whipped out a tube of lipstick.

  “David just told me he won’t sell if Brian is opposed.”

  “What?” She stopped, one lip scarlet-ified, the other her natural Cassie pink. The juxtaposition was oddly erotic. He took a step toward the door.

  “He might not sell anyway, but if Brian objects, he definitely won’t.”

  “Well, that’s it, then, isn’t it?” she asked. “Brian will object, won’t he?”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple. You hit on it yourself—he may like the idea of helming a big company, but he might be self-aware enough to realize that he doesn’t actually want to work.”

  “Hmmm.” She went back to her lips. “A self-aware lazy good-for-nothing!”

  “A buyout might suit him fine—take the money and run. We’ll have to feel him out.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sat on Cassie’s bed. “I’m no closer with Senior, though. I can’t figure him out. He seems open to my ideas, but I think he wants Brian to want the company. Yet he must realize that putting his son at the helm of the family company will mean its ultimate demise.”

  She turned, perfect geisha-girl red lips smiling at him. “Families are complicated.”

  He sighed. “That’s why it’s so much easier not to have one.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  After a dinner of the most amazing duck confit Cassie had ever had—okay, the only duck confit Cassie had ever had—everyone retired to a small den-like room to start talking business.

  “I’m just going to level with you, Jack,” said David. “I’m not sure you’re the right man for Wexler Construction. The eco-resort—I get it, I guess. But aren’t you trying to transition into being more of a Caribbean sun-and-surf type developer?”

  “There’s a lot more continuity between the two types of projects than you might think,” said Cassie, before she could think better of it. Darn. She really should stick to the financials and let Jack do the rest of the talking. But now everyone, Jack included, was looking at her. “The Mexican property is also going to be an eco-resort,” she offered. “And though it’s bigger than this place would be, the basic principles are down-scalable.”

  “Are they, though?” said Senior. “To be honest, I was always skeptical of your decision to move into Mexico. You’re a small player on the international scene. Hasn’t that project leveraged you way too much to take on something like this?”

  “Actually, no,” said Jack. “Cassie can show you the projections for that project. It’s true we’ve directed a lot of resources into it, but we’re well positioned to work on a project here, too.”

  “I’d like to see those numbers,” said David.

  This was her cue. Cassie’s stomach fluttered. “I’ll just run to my room and get my computer,” she said. She hadn’t been sure if she should bring it with her, or if they were going to cling to the fiction that this was a social visit. But clearly Senior had shifted gears, and now he was all business.

  “I’ll come with you,” he said. “Then we can swing by my office and you can show me there. I have some notes I want to get.” He stood and looked back at Jack. “Jack, you want to come, or are you still leaving the down and dirty finances to your lieutenants?”

  “Lieutenants,” said Jack, smiling and lifting his glass. “Especially when the alternative is port that’s this good.”

  Tania smiled. “And Jack promised me a game of chess, so I’m keeping him.”

  And so Cassie found herself in David Wexler’s office, situated at the back of the house and featuring a wall of windows. “Oh!” she exclaimed when she stepped into the still-dark office. “Can you wait to turn on the light for just a moment?” She moved to the window. The house was situated in a small clearing, and if you looked up from this vantage point, the sky twinkled with stars.

  “Amateur astronomer?” Wexler asked. “You start to take it for granted, but it’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

  “I can’t imagine taking this for granted,” said Cassie. When he didn’t answer, she realized she’d been unwise to speak so honestly. He probably thought she was scolding him somehow. “I just mean…”

  “Don’t get to see the stars often in the city, I suppose?” he asked, his voice kind.

  “Yes, and I never get out of the city, so even though I’d like to be an amateur astronomer, my subscription to Astronomy magazine is about as far as I ever get.” She chuckled. “When I was a kid, I thought I would be an astronomer.”

  “Yeah, a lot of kids get that idea, at summer camp or at the cottage—somewhere they really start to see the night sky and think about what’s out there.”

  “Oh, no,” said Cassie quickly, “I didn’t…” Ahh, what was she saying? Well, what the heck? Why not throw some truth into the mix of lies she was weaving here? “I grew up poor. So no summer camp. No stars.”

  “I see,” said Wexler. He looked like he was going to say something more, but then he blinked and said, “Well, let’s run through your numbers, and then we can slip out and take a walk while we talk further. You only get a limited view from this window.”

  …

  An hour later Cassie was toasty warm and happy. Everyone had said good night and gone their own ways, and she, ensconced by the fire in the great room, had intended to spend an hour before bed brushing up on some details for tomorrow. Instead, though, she just stared into the fire and let the heat melt her tension away. This was a good place. It was silly, because she’d only been here a day, but she felt a sort of affinity for the island. Jack could really do something here.

  Never in her life had she seen stars like tonight. When Wexler had taken her outside, it seemed the entire Milky Way was lit up like a swatch of white silk, stars so thick you couldn’t differentiate one from another. And even better, she felt confident she’d done the best she could making Jack’s case. Wexler had proven a receptive audience. He must have sensed that she appreciated the place because as they walked, they talked about the island as much as about its possible sale. Whereas before she’d felt embarrassed about telling him she’d grown up poor, she was reassured now that he wasn’t holding it against her. In fact, he seemed impressed with her story of putting herself through school as a bartender. He was easy to talk to. Like she imagined an interested father might be—someone who managed to ask the right questions and be a good listener. The only thing that put a damper on the walk was the niggling guilt she felt over the fact that she was a fraud. She told herself she wasn’t deceiving him. She knew her stuff. She could tell him what he needed to know and make a case for Jack. None of that was a lie. Not precisely.

  “Burning the midnight oil?”

  For a moment her heart leapt, thinking it was Jack. And really, if she were being honest with herself, didn’t she hope it was Jack? Isn’t that why she was here to begin with, stationed in this public area of the house, in the hopes he’d find her?

 
“How about some company?” said the voice from the shadows.

  Her mind was a little slow to catch up, but when it did, it registered the presence of Brian, who, now that she had gotten to know his father a little, seemed even more unworthy as heir to the Wexler fortune.

  He surprised her by sitting right next to her on the sofa, rather than on one of the adjacent armchairs. “You want a drink?”

  “Ah, no, no thank you. I was just thinking about getting to bed.”

  “A girl who cuts to the chase—I like that.” She couldn’t see his face very well in the dim light of the flames, but she could feel the leer. She was mustering her response, when he said, “I can cut to the chase, too.” He leaned in, and she caught a whiff of beer on his breath. Funny how Jack’s sometimes-scotch-tinged mouth could be so irresistible, and this guy’s was just…repulsive. Her heart started beating harder than was called for. She reminded herself that she was in a house full of people and that nothing could happen against her will. She had only to scream, if it came to it, and they would come running.

  “I’m going to tell you the truth,” he whispered, hot breath on her ear. “For some reason I can’t fathom, I find you insanely hot.”

  “Cassie?” came a deep voice from the darkness that surrounded the fire.

  Thank God.

  “Yes!” She stood. “I’m here!”

  He came into the circle of light cast by the fire, and he was not pleased. Junior probably wasn’t sensitive enough to notice, but even in the shadowy flickering, she could see his clenched fists.

  “We were going to go over those numbers.” On the surface his voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but she recognized in it a streak of barely restrained rage.

  “Yes—the numbers.” She turned to Junior. “Brian, I’m sorry, it’s been lovely chatting, but work beckons.”

  …

  “What the hell, Cassie?” Jack asked after Brian was out of earshot.

  He felt bad almost immediately. It wasn’t her he was angry with—she had looked so small there on the couch, leaning away from Brian—and he should have tempered his tone.

  “Don’t say that like I did anything! I was just sitting here and Mr. Rico Suave suddenly arrived and…ugh.” She shuddered.

  That told him all he needed to know. Which was that he should have punched Brian Wexler’s lights out when he had the chance. Stupid, but for a split second, when he’d seen them so close together on the sofa, he wondered if there was something there. An instant attraction. It would have been hard to believe, but having had some recent firsthand experience with instant attraction, it was not completely outside the realm of possibility.

  He raked his hands through his hair and sat next to her. “I’m sorry. You didn’t sign up for this.”

  “It’s okay. He’s gross, but I’m a big girl.” She grinned. “And, hey, it’s good to be liked. Although he did say he couldn’t fathom—she made air quotes with her fingers—why he was attracted to me. That was kind of rude!”

  He didn’t reward her with the smile she was probably looking for.

  “I think Senior likes me, too,” she said, turning serious.

  “He does. I just left him, and he’s been singing your praises.” It was true. He was beginning to think that instead of being a pinch hitter, Cassie was going to be his surprise closer. “He likes you personally, but he also says you have a way of cutting through the bullshit when it comes to the numbers.” It was too dark to be sure, but he thought she might have blushed. He bounced his shoulder against hers.

  “So both Wexlers like me. This is good.”

  He cracked his knuckles. How should he put this? “I’ll have a word with Junior tomorrow.”

  “Jack! No! I’m a grown-up. I can take care of myself. Besides, think about it rationally for a minute. He likes me. This is good for the deal.”

  “I’m not sure like is the right word.”

  “Whatever. We need him on our side, right? Senior won’t sell if Junior opposes. Junior…whatevers me. I can help make him see the genius of your plan.”

  Yeah, that was not happening. He and Cassie may be done, but he’d be damned if he was going to let that overgrown entitled frat boy near her. “No way.”

  “Oh, come on. We’ll play him a little. It’s no less than he deserves. If Carl uncovered a way to manipulate a major player in a deal to your advantage, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

  He couldn’t lie to her, so he just looked away.

  “Ha!” she said, as if triumphing, but he couldn’t imagine what sort of victory she was claiming. But then she must have realized he remained unamused, because she turned defiant. “It’s not like you can tell me what to do, anyway. You’re not actually my…boss.”

  For a minute he thought she’d been going to finish that sentence with another word altogether.

  He sighed. “All right. But be careful.” It was all he could say. He’d heard what she’d left unsaid, and she was right. He had no claim on her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next day was the usual mix of socializing and business. Cassie found it exhausting, but she could tell Jack thrived in these deal-making situations, in environments when there was a lot at stake. For her part, she could never tell which persona she was supposed to switch on at any given time. Were they going to talk fourth-quarter projections, or were they going to go for a swim in the indoor pool?

  She was constantly on guard, and not only because she felt like a fish out of water both as Winter Enterprise’s finance person and as a houseguest of the extremely rich. There was also the matter of Brian Wexler. If he wasn’t so gross, he would be sort of fascinating. She’d run a little experiment on him, spending the first hour of the morning subtly encouraging him and the second being borderline rude. Amazingly, his behavior did not change at all. He seemed cheerfully oblivious to anything she said or did to encourage or discourage him. It had probably never occurred to him that someone like her wouldn’t automatically jump at the chance to be with a rich guy like him—rejection just wasn’t in his vocabulary. He probably thought she was the type who was impressed by money.

  Okay, she was a little impressed—not by him, but by the whole situation. Nine days ago, she’d been a bartender-slash-student, saving her tips and crossing her fingers that Laura’s latest rehab stint would take. Same old, same old. Now she was literally sipping Veuve Clicquot and eating bonbons, doing her part to help broker a multimillion-dollar acquisition.

  There was also the part where she spent last week getting it on at the forty-ninth floor of the Lakefront Centre, and having, like, fifteen orgasms a day. That seemed as unreal as her immersion in this whole other world. She wasn’t accustomed to being the sort of woman men found irresistible. But Jack had seemed to.

  Had seemed to—past tense. They’d agreed to end things at the onset of this trip. She knew that, but she hadn’t been prepared for how easily he had just shut off whatever it was that had been between them. Because, honestly, it had been twenty-four hours now—twenty-four hours of being in the same house and pretending they were nothing to each other but cordial colleagues. While she was constantly aware of his presence, her heart speeding up when he entered a room, he hardly seemed to notice hers. She’d gone into this with her eyes open, knowing Jack’s “rules” meant there was an expiration date for them.

  But apparently she’d underestimated how much it was going to break her heart.

  …

  When Cassie didn’t answer his knock, Jack hesitated for only a minute before entering. He needed to talk to her before dinner.

  “Cassie?” he whispered, “Can I come in?” He hoped she wasn’t napping. They’d spent the morning tromping around the island with Wexler Senior, and then Wexler and Cassie had huddled with some spreadsheets. Damn, she’d been magnificent. When he’d hatched this whole plan, he’d known she was smart. He’d hoped it would be enough for her to pass, to provide the minimum amount of support he needed in Carl’s absence. Instead, she was turning ou
t to have quite a knack for this. Amy couldn’t have done a better job explaining the Mexico project—and she’d been there in person. Cassie could shift between numbers and big-picture vision stuff effortlessly. Plus she had a kind of infectious enthusiasm for the idea of a resort here. It was hard not to get swept up in the excitement when she described bird-watching expeditions and stargazing parties. He might even have to implement the damn stargazing idea if the deal went through, though he still seriously doubted the ladies-who-lunch of Toronto would care that there was an “amazing” meteor shower early every August. But maybe their kids would.

  After a busy morning, Wexler suggested everyone retire for a couple of hours before dinner. Jack had given Cassie half an hour to herself, but now he needed her. He’d caught Junior putting the moves on her a couple times, and he wanted to tell her to call off whatever little manipulation scheme she was running. It wasn’t sitting right with him. And besides, he didn’t think they needed it. Wexler Senior was coming around—he could feel it.

  “Cassie?” He stuck his head in a little farther. If she was napping, she’d just have to wake up. This was work, not a vacation.

  No answer. Her bed was made, and in fact, there didn’t seem to be anyone in the room at all.

  His stomach dropped. Could she be somewhere with Junior?

  Stepping fully into the room, he closed the door behind him. “Cassie?” he called, at full volume this time. “You in here?”

  “Jack?” came the reply. It sounded like she was far away. “I’m outside.”

  He moved toward the door to the balcony, which had been left slightly ajar. “What the hell are you doing outside? It’s freezing, and…”

  Oh. Oh no. He remembered Tania instructing the housekeeper to give Cassie “the nice room.” Apparently “the nice room” came with a hot tub.