Boardroom Sins

by J. Margot Critch

  He’d been stupid, pigheaded, and he owed her an apology. He laughed to himself. For a man who apologized to no one for anything, a man who took what he wanted, who only thought of himself, he only ever found himself apologizing to Rebecca Daniels.

  “So, what are you going to do to make it right?”

  “I don’t know. I need some grand gesture, don’t I?”

  “Probably. Let me know how it goes,” she said, patting him on the shoulder before she walked back to the table.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Rebecca spun around in her chair. The view of the mountains made her smile, and it was one of things she missed every minute she’d been in New York. But for the first time since she’d returned to her home city, she felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She turned around and looked around her newly redesigned office. She’d made the space hers—feminine, modern, friendly—and it finally felt like she was coming into her own in the role of CEO. She was the boss and not just her father’s replacement.

  Now it came time to work. It would be hard to turn the company around, and she was still on shaky ground. It had been tough, all the work, the turmoil it had caused her personal life, but nevertheless she’d persisted.

  And it had paid off. She alone was the majority shareholder of Daniels International, and while Collins/Fischer still owned a fair amount of shares, they could do nothing. She’d held them off. Daniels International was safe from their grasp.

  She studied the folders in front of her. She had a lot of work to do to pull Daniels International back to its former state of prestige, as she’d promised the remaining few shareholders. And she knew that it would be an uphill battle for her. But at least things were looking up for her and the company, and she’d done the right thing for herself, the people who worked there and her father’s legacy, even if it cost her the man she loved.

  Love? The word had surprised her as it popped up in her mind. Rebecca wasn’t sure when her feelings about Brett had transitioned from contempt to like to love. How could she love him? He’d tried to ruin her. But in the process, he’d made her work even harder. Brett consumed her, and he always had. No matter what her brain told her, the reasons she shouldn’t be with him, she couldn’t quiet the uncontrollable quiver in her chest when she thought of him. But no matter when it had happened, and what her thoughts about him were, it was over.

  “You said goodbye to him once,” she told herself. “You can do it again.”

  Amy buzzed in on the intercom, interrupting her introspection. “Brett Collins is here to see you.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. He was the last person she’d expected to see. “Send him in.”

  The door opened and he walked in. “Hi,” he said. He looked at her desk, which she’d covered with documents. “Catching up on work?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got a lot of things to do to bring Daniels International back to the top. What can I help you with? Why are you here?”

  He blew out a heavy sigh, and he looked around the room before his eyes met hers again. “Because I was an ass.”

  “Really?” She rolled her eyes. “You? An ass? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

  “I deserve that.”

  She nodded. “You do.”

  “I’m sorry for what happened between us. And I’m mostly sorry for trying to take over your company.”

  She cocked her head to the side and smiled somewhat mirthlessly. “What is it? Are you here to tell me that you want some big-businessman tips? I can be your mentor, help you out if you want some coaching.”

  He grinned but sobered. “Seriously. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t really know how we got here.”

  She had no response to that—she knew Brett had always been competitive, but he’d bordered on ruthless these last few weeks. Still, she hadn’t expected him to come down here and apologize. That seemed out of character for him. “And maybe I’m a little sore because I didn’t get everything I wanted,” Brett said softly. “I usually do.”

  “You can take over other businesses, you know. Just leave mine alone.”

  “It has nothing to do with business.” He pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat, put it on the desk between them and slid it over to her.

  “What’s this?”

  “A letter. We drew it up this morning. The shares that Alex and I held in Daniels International, we want to transfer them back to you.”

  “Brett. What—”

  “We don’t need them. We don’t want them. You deserve them, and now you’ll never lose control of your family firm again.”

  “But why?”

  Brett took a deep breath and looked at the floor for a moment before his eyes found hers. “I don’t give a damn about business, making deals, mergers, acquisitions. I just want you.”

  Her mouth dropped, and he stood and came around to her side of the desk. He reached down, took her hands and pulled her up so that she was standing. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I want you. And I’ll do anything to have you.”

  “Brett—”

  “I love you,” he said quickly.

  Rebecca watched him. And he raised a hand to push through his hair. She wanted to hold him, the longing tearing through her chest. “What?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard the words that he’d said to her and needed confirmation.

  “Rebecca, I love you,” he repeated. “I’ve never loved anyone before, and I don’t know when it happened or how. But I know that I’ve been miserable without you.”

  Brett’s declaration caused some tears to pool at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away and put down the letter. “Brett, I love you, too.”

  “Do you think we can? Can we be happy together?”

  “If we’re always honest and put each other first over the job, I think we can try.”

  He put his hands on either side of her face and pulled her toward him. He kissed her deeply, and her knees buckled in relief from his touch, but as long as he was holding her, she wouldn’t fall.

  She pulled back and took another look at the stacks of files on her table.

  “What? Do you need to get back to work?” he asked her. His lips brushed against hers.

  “No,” she said. “I think I can put it off until tomorrow.”

  “Good,” he said and, with a swipe of his arm, he brushed all the stacks of folders on the floor and then lifted her onto the desk.

  Her dress had ridden up her hips, and he reached for her panties. She lifted her hips, and he removed the satin barrier. He undid his zipper and lowered his pants. She held her breath as he withdrew his cock from his pants and slowly stepped toward her. He withdrew a condom from the front pocket of his pants and covered himself.

  He palmed her and he dipped his thumb between her wet folds, tracing the lines of her pussy. He circled the bundle of nerves of her clit and Rebecca moaned and bucked her hips. She cried out, perhaps a little too loudly, and she briefly wondered if Amy could hear her outside the thick doors of the office. “Brett, do it now,” she pleaded. She needed to feel him again. She was desperate, crying out for his attention.

  He held himself over her, and he placed the tip of his cock against her wet folds and pushed inside her, hard and deep. He leaned over and braced himself with a palm on the desk next to her, and he pulled back his hips and plunged into her again. His pace was quick and forceful.

  The only sounds in the room were his grunts, her gasps and the sound of his thighs slapping against the inside of hers. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed and licked the sensitive skin before nipping her shoulder between his teeth. It was enough for her. Her quick breathing turned to lustful screams as she called out
. Then he shook as he grunted out with his own release.

  He lay over her for more several moments, unable to move or speak, and Rebecca concentrated on just trying to regain her breath.

  Brett supported his weight on his strong forearms. “I must be crushing you,” he whispered, his breath heavy and warm against her ear.

  “No, it’s nice,” she told him.

  With a moan, he pushed himself upward. He was somehow still hard inside her, and the movement shifted his position inside her. The noise she made was a mixture of pleasure from stimulation and missing the warmth of his body on top of hers.

  He smiled down at her. “Sorry, I’ve got to get rid of this condom.” He strode into the kitchen and reappeared after a moment.

  “Did you bring that just assuming that I would forgive you and we’d have sex?”

  He shrugged and grinned slowly. “I didn’t know for sure, but you can’t blame a guy for hoping.” He pulled on his pants and, forgetting his shirt, stooped to pick up the papers that were strewed over the floor. “Sorry about the mess.”

  Rebecca pushed herself up on her elbows. “It’s okay. It was time to stop for the day anyway.” She looked down and saw that Brett was sitting in the middle of the floor, amid the mess of papers, wearing a goofy grin on his face. He looked up at her.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked him.

  He stood. “It’s amazing. That we’re both here right now. I spent every day of the last five years trying not to remember you, but I couldn’t not want you. I never thought I would get another chance. And then I finally did, and I screwed it up again. I really did miss you.”

  “I missed you, too. But let’s not screw it up this time, all right? And let’s leave the work at the office from now on. No more lies, no more business interfering with our relationship.”

  He stuck out his right hand and she shook it. “Deal.”

  * * * * *

  If you loved this book, don’t miss the next book in J. Margot Critch’s SIN CITY BROTHERHOOD series:

  SINS OF THE FLESH

  Keep reading for an excerpt from PLEASURE GAMES by Daire St. Denis.

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  Pleasure Games

  by Daire St. Denis

  CHAPTER ONE

  LUCA LEGRAND COULDN’T decide whether he had the best luck in the world or whether he was actually cursed with the worst fucking luck ever. At the moment, sitting in a holding cell that stank like piss and rancid sweat, he was pretty sure it was the latter.

  “Legrand!” A uniformed member of the Paris Police Prefecture banged on the bars. “Votre avocat est ici.” Your lawyer is here.

  Pushing himself to his feet, Luca waited for the man to unlock the cell and then followed him down the hall to a cubicle not much larger than a toilet stall. François Chevalier, the lawyer for the Legrand Estate vineyard, was already waiting inside, reading a newspaper at a steel table that was bolted to the floor.

  François glanced up when the door opened. He didn’t stand, and did not greet Luca, but rather drummed his fingers on the metal tabletop as he waited for Luca to take the seat across from him.

  Once the door was shut behind the officer, François went back to reading the paper. More specifically, he perused an article with the headline, Héritier de Legrand Vineyard en Prison Pour Voies de Fait. Heir to the Legrand Vineyard in Prison for Assault. Beneath the headline was a blown-up image of Luca being shoved into a police car.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Luca said.

  “Really? Because it looks bad,” François said calmly, though his mustache twitched.

  Luca leaned back in the hard metal chair, folding his arms over his chest. He gazed directly at François, not willing to look away because he was not contrite in the fucking least.

  “It’s not my fault,” he said.

  “Is that so?” François leaned toward him, palms on the table, forcing Luca to look up at him. His face—though always red—was now the color of a sun-ripened heirloom tomato. “You punched a reporter. You broke his nose. You smashed his camera. How is that not your fault?”

  He stood up and swept a hand around the tiny room that smelled like mildew and stale cigarettes. “The first Legrand man to ever be arrested. Yet still you sit there and say it’s not your fault?” He made a sour face, as if tasting a too-green wine, one that should be spit out immediately.

  Slowly, Luca got to his feet, all six feet two inches of him, so François had to look up at him. “The man deserved what he got.”

  “I don’t care what he deserved. All I care about is your legacy. Which you have single-handedly destroyed.” He glared at Luca. His heavy lids and the bags beneath made it nearly impossible to see his eyes, but Luca was determined to hold François’s gaze. The fact that François looked away first did not give him any pleasure, however.

  “The value of our champagne has dropped significantly since you took over. Do you realize that?”

  Luca ground his teeth, forcing himself to count to five. Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq... But counting did not stop the deepest part of his gut from rumbling with liquid fire that was amplified with every breath. Through clenched teeth, he said, “The value of our champagne dropped the day my father died.”

  It was true. His father had run the estate for
thirty years, continuing in the footsteps of his father and grandfather and two hundred years of ancestors before that. His father had been a robust, healthy man and it had seemed as if he would live forever. Not that Luca had seen much of him in the past ten years while he was competing on the Grand Prix motorcycle racing circuit.

  “This cannot continue—” François gestured toward Luca’s chest. “These scandals.”

  Here we go. Luca leaned against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other. Waiting for François to detail each of his latest “scandals.” There was no point in defending himself.

  Ticking items off his finger, François began the lengthy list. “Disturbing the peace.”

  Disturbing the peace? Luca had broken up with his girlfriend, Anika Van Horn, a model he’d quickly learned was more interested in the fame and fortune of the Legrand name than in Luca himself. She did not take the breakup well. In fact, she’d slapped him, making sure to do so at an outdoor café, causing a scene that spread in seconds via social media. He still wasn’t sure how charges had come of it.

  “Public drunkenness.”

  He had attended a fellow Monster teammate’s bachelor party. While Luca had had his fair share of drinks, he had not been nearly as drunk as the groom-to-be, whom Luca had rescued from the Fontaine Stravinsky.

  “Public nudity.”

  It had been his friend, the bachelor, who was naked. But the press had a way of spinning things so that it sounded like Luca was the one who’d disrobed, jumped into the fountain and done lewd things to a colorful, busty mermaid with water spouting from the tips of her breasts.

  Sighing, Luca waved for François to keep going with the damning list, knowing what was coming next.

  “Then. Just to up the ante...a sex video gone public. And not just any sex...” François paused, arching his brow for effect. He sniffed instead of finishing his sentence. “Such a boost to the prestige of your esteemed family name.” François grimaced with sarcasm.

  Luca opened his mouth, the excuse—the fact that the video was meant to be private and that Anika had obviously been the one to leak it online, either for publicity to boost her career or to publicly humiliate him—was ripe on his tongue. But what good would it do to explain this to François? It didn’t change the outcome.