by Maia Dylan
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2016 Maia Dylane
ISBN: 978-1-77339-086-4
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DANCING WITH FIRE
Maia Dylan
Copyright © 2016
Chapter One
“I’m sorry, but you have to listen to me. You cannot go in there!”
At the sound of Mrs. Crowther’s raised voice out in the reception area, Hayden Firestone looked up from the report in front of him. He and his brother shared her as their secretary just as their fathers had years before. She was well known for her ability not to panic and remain calm under fire. Whoever had her raising her voice in the outer office must have really crawled under her skin to have her yelling like that.
“And as I told you, I don’t really give a rat's furry behind what you say,” another female’s voice answered, and this one had Hayden’s whole body coming to attention. There was an accent there, a softening and lengthening of the vowels that spoke of a southern heritage. “I have tried going through the normal channels to have this conversation. I have sent emails, made calls, tried to make appointments at times convenient for them, all of which I am sure have been curtailed by you! Now, I am out of time and out of patience, and I will be speaking to one or both of the Firestone brothers today, or I swear by all that is holy that I will sit down and handcuff myself to the leg of that ugly as sin desk of yours and refuse to leave here until they have heard what I have to say!”
Hayden sat back in his chair waiting to see how this all played out. He contemplated signaling his brother Zac in his office next door, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hear what was going on outside Hayden’s door, but that he would get as much enjoyment as he was at hearing their staunch receptionist come up against someone unwilling to cower beneath the cutting glare he and Zac had always assumed she’d perfected in front of the mirror years ago.
The handle on his office door moved as if someone had placed their hand on it from the outside, and then came the slapping sound of skin meeting skin and an indignant inhalation of breath.
“Ow! Lady, did you just slap my hand like I’m a three year old reaching for another damn cookie?”
Hayden’s dick thickened even further behind the zipper of his pants when the southern accent of the other woman shone through loud and clear with her indignation.
“You’re damn right I did,” Mrs. Crowther replied in a growling tone that Hayden had never heard her use before. “And if you reach for that handle again, I will show you that I am more than capable of stopping you from entering that office, with more than just a slap on the hand.”
Hayden stood up swiftly from his desk as he heard what sounded like the two women scuffling, and moved quickly to the door. Turning the handle and swinging the door open wide, he stepped out of his office. He had to fight to keep the smile off his face at the sight that greeted him. His secretary might be looking at sixty-two on her next birthday, but she was tall and hid the other woman almost completely from his view, and by the looks of things, moved and dodged fairly nimbly, keeping herself squarely in front of the door, and her arch nemesis away from it.
“What on earth is going on here?” he asked, praying that neither woman heard the amusement in his tone. From the growl that emanated from the woman on the other side of his secretary, he knew he’d failed.
“Oh, Mr. Firestone!” Mrs. Crowther said as she spun to face him. “I am so sorry that this—this—woman has interrupted you. I have called building security and they should be here any moment to escort her back to the street.” Although her tone very much added where she belongs to the end of that sentence, she managed to keep from actually voicing it.
“Well, that’s just perfect,” the other woman said, frustration clear in her tone, and she stepped out from behind Mrs. Crowther. “You can have me thrown out on the street here in your place of work as well as from my home. Clean sweep! Congratulations, Mr. Firestone, I do so hope you are proud of yourself.”
Now, Hayden prided himself on his ability to talk his way out of anything. There had been times over the years when he had found himself in situations where he had to talk fast in order to find a clear way out of a sticky situation, and very few times that he could remember when he been struck speechless. This was, unfortunately, one of those times.
The southern accent belonged to a woman who more than lived up to the sultry tone of her voice. She wasn’t overly tall, maybe five foot seven, and from what Hayden could tell from the fitted jeans that molded to her ass, she had curves in all the right places. The t-shirt she wore had a Captain America insignia on the front, emblazoned directly over her breasts. The worn cotton t-shirt was tight enough to tell him that she was just as curved on top as she was on the bottom.
“You know, in the twenty-five years I’ve had them, my breasts have never been able to talk,” the woman said as she waved her hand in front of her, pulling his gaze away from her chest. “There you go, champ. I knew you could focus long enough to stop ogling my boobs, despite how awesome they are.” Hayden felt the heat of his first blush since puberty sweep across his cheeks.
“I am very sorry. That was entirely inappropriate.” He rushed to apologize, all the while soaking in her beauty. Her skin was tanned to a healthy golden brown. Hayden assumed she spent time at the beach, perhaps surfing, but definitely out in the sun if her complexion and the lighter blonde highlights that were sprinkled through the long strands of her dark blonde hair was anything to go by.
“Yes, it was,” the blonde said primly. “Just as it has been completely inappropriate to keep me sitting out here in your reception area for the past two hours, with Brünhilda here the only company. Not even deigning to see me.”
Hayden cast a look at his secretary and frowned when she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I am terribly sorry that you have been inconvenienced this way. Please, allow me to make up for that now. If you will follow me into my office, you will have my complete attention.” He stepped back from the door and gestured her inside. The woman glared at his secretary then walked with her head held high into the office.
“Mr. Firestone.” Mrs. Crowther had this tone that told him when his actions were not becoming of his status as CEO of one of the largest property development firms in New York. It was one he had heard on many occasions and clear in her voice now. “You do not have time to deal with the concerns of someone like that woman. It is my job to keep the crazies from your door, but you make it difficult to do that when you invite them in.”
Hayden nodded, mentally rolling his eyes. “I understand that, Mrs. Crowther, but sometimes, when someone is insisting on speaking with me or Zac, there might just be a very good reason. I would appreciate it if you would advise me if anyone comes to speak with me, and let me decide whether or not I will take the meeting.”
“That is not the way your father worked.”
“And yet again, I find myself having to remind you that I am not my father.” Hayden turned and walked back into his office. He was getting sick of having to have the same conversation over and over with the woman.
He closed the door and looked up to see a rather red-faced blonde sliding into the chair opposite his desk. It
was very clear that she had been standing close to the door to catch the conversation, and the delightful blush of color that swept across her cheeks told him that she knew she’d been caught.
Fighting a grin, Hayden held out his hand. “I am terribly sorry about that, Miss…”
“Strand, Lucabella Strand,” the woman informed him as she reached out to shake his hand. Hayden’s smile broadened at the jolt of awareness that rocked through him at their touch, and from the way her beautiful blue eyes widened, he knew she felt it, too. Interesting.
He fought to hide his grin as he stepped around his desk and took his seat. “What a beautiful name. What can I do for you, Miss Strand?” When he walked past the woman, he caught the alluring scent of orange blossom.
Lucabella sighed and fidgeted slightly in her chair. “This is actually more difficult than I thought it would be. Not so much because I can’t find the words. I mean, it’s fairly easy to find the words when I have had months of writing letters, and typing emails in an attempt to plead my case to you and your brother. Now that I am actually sitting here, facing you across what looks like an acre of cherry wood, I find it difficult to voice the reason I am here. It’s not really something a woman like me likes to admit, you know what I mean? Pride is one of those things that you don’t really think about, isn’t it? I read this quote once, or was it a proverb? Well, it doesn’t really matter right this minute, but it said that pride was just too much humility, and I always thought that if you were too proud that would be seen as being something that was bad, a characteristic that's ugly within a person. And I always thought of humility as something that's attractive in a person, but apparently, if a person has too much of a good thing then it is bad for them. Kind of like pizza. Pizza is great, but if you have too much of it,” Lucabella pushed her cheeks out and spread her arms, “you put on too much weight and your ass is given its own zip code. Not that you would know anything about that.”
Hayden felt his jaw dropping slowly as the spitfire before him spoke so damn fast it was almost mesmerizing. And she just kept right on going. Even when she was babbling and he had no clue what she was talking about, he was enamored of her. He slid his hand along the rim of his desk and pressed the hidden button that lay there. It sounded an alert on his brother’s computer in the adjoining office. Zac would see that and know that Hayden needed him.
Lucabella was still talking, this time about workouts and what ass routine was best for someone who had something called a pear-shaped physique, when Zac walked in. He was carrying papers in one hand and his fake glasses in the other, obviously about to launch into his we need to talk about these figures immediately because London is on the phone routine as a way to get Hayden out of the situation. But no words passed his lips as he entered the room. His eyes zeroed in on the woman in the chair, and, as he stepped closer, Hayden saw the interest flare in Zac’s eyes.
“I have tried Jane Fonda’s Buns of Steel workouts, but nothing. My ass is the same damn size it always has been, and I am constantly trying to find clothes that fit right. My ass has a mind of its own, and it loves pizza, too. I—”
“I have to tell you, Miss Strand,” Hayden interrupted, not sensing that she was running out of steam at all, “that your ass looks pretty damn perfect to me. I don’t think it needs Jane Fonda’s workouts or anyone else’s for that matter.”
Her reaction could have gone two ways, and he was pleased when she simply grinned at him and looked absurdly happy. “You know, that might just be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me about my ass.”
Zac laughed softly as he sat on the corner of Hayden’s desk, and Lucabella’s eyes widened when she looked over at him, almost as if she were shocked that he had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “I am in full agreement with my brother. Your ass is perfect, and I will, of course, be thinking of something nicer to say about your ass to get a smile myself, like the one you gave him.”
“Miss Lucabella Strand,” Hayden began, only to be interrupted.
“Bella, please.”
Hayden smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Bella, I would like to introduce you to my brother, Zac.”
Zac leaned over and held his hand out, and Bella sat forward to shake his hand. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Bella.”
Bella blushed sweetly, and Hayden felt his heart stutter at the sight. “Damn, beautiful, you sure are pretty when you blush.”
Zac leaned in toward Bella so that he could catch her eye. “Hayden’s right, but you’re stunning even without that alluring color in your cheeks.”
Bella’s jaw dropped open. “I—I, um, well, thank you, I guess. Maybe I should tell you what I have come here to say. That may change your opinion slightly.”
“I can assure you, I can’t think of one reason in the world that would make me think you were anything but stunning. But I can see I am making you uncomfortable.” Zac released Bella’s hand, and Hayden watched as she seemed to stare at it for a moment before wiping it against her thigh. “What brings you here to see us?”
“Well, as I said to your brother, this is actually more difficult than I thought. It’s not the—”
“Bella,” Hayden gently interrupted again, “perhaps we could just bypass all the beginning of the explanation, and you just give us the headlines. Why have you been writing letters, emailing, and calling us, and what brings you here this afternoon to sit for two hours in reception waiting for an opportunity to talk with us?”
Zac shot Hayden a what the hell glance, before turning to face Bella. “It must be something really important, sweetness, so just spit it out.”
Bella seemed to take a deep breath, and even from across his desk, he could see her grip tighten on the arms of the chair she was sitting in. “I want to ask why you keep increasing the rents of the apartments in the Monticello building you own to ridiculous heights. If it is your plan to force us all out onto the streets, then I have to tell you that you are succeeding. I would love to know why you hired a mean, narcissistic, steroid-popping sexist to be your building manager, and what could possibly be your reasons for refusing to fix the apartments that you have in that building despite the fact that there are children getting sick because of the damp.”
Hayden’s entire body filled with shock. “What do you mean? What the hell is the Monticello building?” He shot a quick glance at his brother and saw that he was just as confused.
Lucabella rolled her eyes. “How typical. The Firestone Playboys have so many properties on their books and own half of Chicago, but they can’t even remember one brownstone apartment building in Armour Square.”
“Bella,” Zac said calmly. “You shouldn’t take what the tabloids say about Hayden and me as being gospel. The exploits of the Firestone Playboys are always exaggerated in print, I assure you. Not to mention, Firestone is a commercial property and development business. We do not own residential apartments.”
Bella turned slowly to glare at Zac, and the fire in her eyes had Hayden’s dick twitching behind the zipper of his jeans. “I know what Firestone is. I have spent the last three months researching the new owners of the building after we got the first letter advising that the rents were increasing. Firestone purchased the Monticello at a mortgage sale eight and a half months ago, and despite the state of the building, you got it for a song, or at least that’s what Dougal tells us all. Of course, I wouldn’t put too much stock in what that balding son of a diseased camel has to say on most occasions, but he is your building manager, so I assume you saw something in the man to hire him.”
Hayden’s confusion grew. Firestone was a large business, sure, but he and Zac prided themselves on knowing every single one of the two hundred and sixteen employees they had. It was what their father had instilled in them on day one. Every employee in the business knew what their role was and how they fit into the broader business. It was why Firestone had a very low staff turnover rate, and Hayden could honestly say that there was no one on their books named Dougal.
<
br /> “There is no Dougal working for Firestone, and we would never purchase a building in Armour Square,” Hayden said adamantly, but whatever his tone, the woman before him took offense and her eyes turned cold.
Bella stood up slowly from the chair in front of his desk. “Not everyone can live in penthouses, and have maids and chefs and vacations in the south of France. Some of us, no, that is wrong, the majority of us in the real world, work for a living to pay the bills so that we can have a roof over our heads. Armour Square and the Monticello may not have the price tag on it that achieves the millions of returns or profit that I am sure you are used to, but it’s a place of character, and beauty, and those of us who live there are happier and all the richer for it. I came here to try and plead our case, and get you to see us and the building as something worth investing in, but I can see I have wasted my time.”
Hayden stood up from the desk as Bella turned to leave the office. “Wait!” Surprisingly Bella stopped and turned to face them. “There has to be some kind of mistake. We do not own that building. I am sorry if you misunderstood what I was saying before, I truly didn’t mean any offense by it.”
“Try to see it from our perspective for a moment,” Zac added, as he stood up from the desk, too. “A woman we have never met before walks into our office to ask why we're increasing the rents on a property here in Chicago. Hayden and I are not landlords, and we do not take rents. Nor do we know anything about the Monticello building you are talking about. Our fathers instilled within us the understanding that great businesses are built from the top down and the bottom up. We know every one of our employees. I would be willing to write and sign any type of legal document you like to prove that what I am saying to you is correct.”