by Lexi Greene
“Are you always like this in traffic?”
“Yes.” This had nothing to do with the man beside her—or his older brother—and everything to do with him wanting what was hers. Breathe. She moved through her body relaxing each part until she could feign ease. She focused on the vast blue stretch of the sky and pictured herself somewhere sunny, the relaxing sound of water spilling over rocks, no one for miles.
“Light’s green when you’re ready.”
His tone was provocative, but she refused to bite. “Thanks.” A horn tooted from somewhere behind them. She pressed her foot to the clutch and eased into first. She liked a manual. She liked the rev of the engine. The feel of the gearstick in her hand. She changed into second… third… and back into second as they approached the Westgate Bridge in a snarl of trucks and vans and other vehicles. The view was spectacular, and if she could just focus on the world around her and not on the pair of hard, muscular thighs not a hand’s breadth away, she’d find it easier to breathe. The music wasn’t helping. The mindfulness strategies weren’t helping. The gutsy thrust of acceleration wasn’t helping.
“You seem kind of wound up.”
No kidding. “I’m not very patient with traffic and I’m frustrated that I have competition for a position that’s rightfully mine. And given who you are, there’s little chance of a fair fight.”
“Competition stretches us and makes us stronger.” His gaze turned towards the horizon and the blue haze of the sea.
Her grip tightened until her knuckles turned white. She checked her speed and throttled down… there were speed cameras on the bridge. “Is that what your father taught you?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did he pit you and your brother against each other? A bit of healthy sibling rivalry?”
“You get further in life when you’re challenged.”
Scarlet risked a disbelieving glance. “Is that what he told you?” Tony looked straight ahead, but there was a tick in his jaw, like his teeth ground together. That was a lot of pressure. “How far are you aiming to get?”
“Partner. Executive partner. Maybe start my own firm.”
The jittery sensation inside her moved from snappy to grabby. “Timeframe?”
“Partner by thirty. The rest will fall into place.”
They passed Williamstown on the left and reached the one hundred kilometre an hour zone. She couldn’t wait to get out on the open road. “How long until you’re thirty?”
“Less than twelve months.”
Scarlet was good at maths, but she didn’t need to be… their career trajectories were on a collision course. He didn’t know what he was up against. “Why Forbes?”
“It’s a small, but highly reputable firm.”
“Why insurance litigation?”
“My brother is a commercial lawyer.”
Scarlet glanced into her side mirror, moved into the left lane. “You don’t see yourself on the same path as your brother?”
“No.” He turned to look at her. “I’m nothing like my brother.”
“I’m glad to hear it, but there’s only one partnership opportunity likely to come up in the next twelve months.” She was stuck behind a lumbering truck and her speed slowed, frustration curling her toes.
“May the best man—or woman—win.”
Smug. Slimy. Snake.
She went to pass the truck, but it pulled out in front of her and she had to touch the brakes. His driving was atrocious. His manners were worse. She flipped the disk to Vivaldi and took a deep, calming breath. And sat tight until they were on the slip road, where she slowed for long enough to retract the roof before pressing her foot to the accelerator. The rush of air helped to relieve the organ-crushing squeeze in her midriff, and then they were onto the M80, and she shifted into fifth gear.
“What do you like to do on the weekends?”
Scarlet glanced at Tony. With his aviators on and the wind blowing his hair back from his face, he looked… attractive, or at least he would have if she hadn’t been so set on finding him unattractive. “Work. You?”
Curses. She hadn’t meant to sound interested. She wasn’t interested. She turned her attention back to the road and breathed deeply of the fresh, almost country air, the tension in her body blasted away. The temperature was warm, not too hot, and it was impossible not to relax and enjoy the responsive surge of the V8 motor.
“I like to surf.”
Well, that explained the tan and the relaxed cheeriness that rubbed against her like sandpaper. He had a lackadaisical, beach-bum attitude to life that didn’t quite fit with the polished, corporate sheen of his suit. Or what she knew of his family.
“Why would a layback surfer dude want to become a hotshot lawyer?” She made no attempt to soften the mocking tone.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive and you know enough about my family to appreciate the pressure. Besides, you manage to pull off the conservative, uptight workaholic in the office when you’re clearly a weekend lead-foot in a black convertible.” He grinned and she hoped he got a bug in his pristine white teeth.
“We all have our vices.”
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a rev-head.”
Her gaze snapped to his side of the vehicle.
“I’m not judging.” He held his hands up, his grin widening.
There was no way she was going to let him mess with her joy. She tried to erase him from her peripheral vision and pretend she was alone. Except he insisted on speaking.
“I spend my weekends in Torquay. You know what they say about all work and no play. Maybe that explains how you found yourself in that awkward position in the first place… no pun intended.”
Not listening.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those types who doesn’t like the feel of sand on your feet.” He turned towards her and lifted his sunglasses.
Not listening.
“Or one of those girls who can’t bear to get their hair wet.”
His gaze burned into the side of her face like a brand.
Not listening.
“Or someone who’s wedded to their work because they have no life.”
Pow. He finished with a punch and her stomach clenched. “It’s nice of you to worry about me, but there’s no need. We’re work colleagues. The only thing you need to worry about is how well I do my job, and that’s very well.” She flicked the indicator and accelerated past a slower vehicle, the motor eager and responsive. “Have you had any run-ins with sharks while you’re out there in the elements?”
“None of the fish variety.” He settled his glasses on his nose and his elbow on the window frame.
“Ha. Ha.” Her thoughts followed the path he’d guided her down. Was she wedded to her work because she didn’t have a life? Or did she not have a life because she was wedded to her work? Or was he trying to mess with her focus? He wanted that partnership position. He wanted it enough to manipulate and undermine her while wearing a goofy smile on his face. Speaking of sharks.
“Perhaps we should talk about the elephant in the back seat and get it out in the open.”
“There’s no elephant, Tony. Mistakes are learning opportunities. I’ve learned that men don’t always tell the truth about their marital status. I’ve learned that some men have an ego so big they don’t understand the meaning of the word no, and I’ve learned that some men think they’re above the law. Do you go home to a wife at night?”
“So glad you brought that up. I’m single in capital letters—in case, you’re interested—but I plan to stay that way until I make partner. I can’t afford the distraction of a serious relationship. You?”
“I don’t do distraction. My goal is partnership. And I want it within the year. And no, I’m not interested.”
His grin widened. “What about family? Do you want children someday?”
Damn him. She wished he’d back off with his questions. She wished she could call him an Uber and tell him to meet her there. Better still, she’d li
ke to rewind time and schedule the view for yesterday, so she’d have her V8 sanctuary to herself instead of being forced to share it with a Great White Career-killer in Hugo Boss.
She shrugged and left the question unanswered, her gaze seeking the horizon.
“I can’t wait to have kids. I want them to run free on the beach and have fun in the surf. I want weekend barbies with friends, and a glass of wine with someone special on the deck of our beach house after the kids are tucked into bed, exhausted, with smiles on their faces.”
“Is that what your childhood was like?” She turned and saw tension in the set of his jaw.
“Not so much. My brother’s twenty years older than me and my father worked a lot. I used to go down to Lorne with a friend of mine. His parents had a house that looked over the ocean and they taught me to surf. I loved those family trips and they treated me like a son.”
Her heart softened for the boy he used to be, and she had to remind herself of the man he was now. “I’m an only child.” No way would she share the loneliness of her childhood. They began the descent into the valley that was Bacchus Marsh. The earth was rich and fertile and apple trees spread before them. Market gardens, turf farms. She toyed with the idea of a detour through the town on the way back for fresh fruit and gourmet chocolate from the roadside, farm-direct stores.
“Did you have extended family?”
“An older cousin, but he was like the big brother from hell.” She fought the memory of her eight-year-old self and that game of hide-and-seek. She’d hidden from her cousin in a wardrobe in their spare room and he’d turned the key in the lock leaving her trapped, paralysed and afraid in the dark, cramped, airless space. She’d counted to a thousand, her eyes squeezed shut, and she hadn’t called for help because she didn’t want him to know how scared she was, but then she’d peed her pants in panic.
Sweat beaded on her brow and she welcomed the cool rush of the wind. She gulped oxygen into her lungs and focused on the wide, open space around her, forcing back the hot, choking memory. “I hated visiting them. I preferred to be alone. I liked to read. Besides, I had good friends and mum often invited one of them to go on holiday with us.”
“Are you okay?” His tone sounded sincere.
“Yes, fine. Thanks. You?” She turned towards him.
“Terrific.”
He looked terrific and for the shortest flash of a moment, she admired him. He was smart. Well-connected. Gorgeous—well, passably attractive. And she felt a connection. Sever it. Now. This was about weakening her. He didn’t care. He was figuring out what he was up against. Steel. She visualised it. Cold and impervious.
“You don’t like to let people in, do you?”
“I’ve learned that most people are self-serving, particularly men.” They left the fertile ground of the valley behind and wound their way into the dry, windswept hills. A house perched on a barren knoll, the driveway like a scar across the landscape.
“That’s very cynical.”
“Perhaps.”
He sat taller in his seat and shifted his attention to her face. “Do you bat for the other team now? After your run in with Geoffrey?”
“Pardon?”
“Are you a girl’s girl now?”
“No!” She almost choked. “And even if I was, it’s none of your damn business.” He was like a blood-sucking leech. “If there’s something work related you need to know, ask. If not? Don’t. Speak.”
“You’re not an easy person to like.” He settled back into slouch-mode and tapped his leg in time with the music.
“I don’t care whether you like me or not. I don’t need your friendship. I need you like a bullet in the side of my head.” In fact, she’d prefer the bullet over another moment in his company.
Silence. Blessed silence. The paddocks flashed past and the trees grew big and wide and spread their limbs to the sky. Space. Lots of it. And silence. But try as she might, she couldn’t ignore him. It was like an invisible string stretched between them and every time he breathed or shifted in his seat, it pulled tight and she reacted, deep inside.
“You weren’t the first young receptionist to be dazzled by Geoffrey’s charms, and he no doubt plied you with plenty of alcohol. You were the first to sue him, expose him in the media and destroy his marriage.”
She said nothing, but her heart contracted. She’d been dewy fresh and naïve when she’d started work at a top-tier law firm during her gap year. Her hands clenched on the steering wheel. She’d bought her first V8 convertible with the pay-out. Unfair dismissal. She’d honed her legal teeth on that one and she’d been like a dog with a bone. Where other students had struggled to learn the dry tenements of law, she’d devoured them, armouring herself with legal know-how to fight the battle against him.
“I’m guessing men give you a wide berth at the office Christmas party.” His tone was as dry as the grassy fields that spread before them. She had to admire his tenacity. Most people knew of the assault. It had been splashed through the papers after she broke the gag order when he reneged on his side of the negotiations. Geoffrey Radcliff had been twice her age and powerful enough in the industry to intimidate her. But not many people had the balls to bring it up.
“He made it out to be consensual—maybe it was at first—but that requires a level of sobriety.” She’d flirted back. She’d enjoyed the attention. But when he’d pushed her into the lift and stopped it between floors, her brain had fried. She couldn’t get out. She couldn’t scream. Who would have heard her? He’d kissed her and forced his tongue into her mouth. He’d touched her intimately, his hands venturing under her clothing, and he’d pressed her into the wall of the lift, his erection rubbing against her until—she’d found the strength to push him back. She shuddered. She’d been Pissed and Stupid at nineteen, and she’d lost her job because of it. She’d been Powerless and Slandered.
“The legal process has a way of shaming the victim.”
“Yes…” But the victim became Powerful like the V8 motor that purred beneath her hands. And the victim became Strong and found her voice. No way would she shrink in the dark or suffer in silence again. “But the victim was victorious in the end.”
“Is that why you work so hard? Do you still have something to prove?”
“Why do you care, Radcliff? Can’t you sit back and enjoy the scenery?”
“Oh, I am, believe me.”
She turned and found his sizzling blue gaze on her. Her skin prickled like every nerve had been plucked and played and a part of her body that had been safely anaesthetised for the past ten years, stirred and stretched. “I couldn’t be less interested.” The words should have been powerful and decisive with no room for misinterpretation, but he chuckled, and she found she liked it.
“I see you, Scarlet.” His tone was a soft strum that resonated through her, and her skin puckered and pulled.
“I see you too, Radcliff. And if you think I’ll fall for your scheming, you’re wrong.” She tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
“You think I’m strategizing and plotting?” He quirked an eyebrow above his aviator frames.
“Some men use seduction like a weapon.”
“Some women are too cynical for their own good. There’s a good chance you’ll end up isolated and alone, with files for company.”
“I have a V8 powered friend who asks for nothing.” Stop. Flirting.
“Are we talking sex-toys here?”
“I don’t know, Radcliff. You’re the player. You tell me.”
“Don’t let my brother destroy your life. You didn’t ruin his. He did that all by himself.” The playful edge was gone from his tone, and if she hadn’t had her attention on the road, she would have seen the serious light in his eyes. But she felt the shift in his muscle tension and when he reached out to touch her hand on the gear stick, she snatched it back, paralysis in her throat, the engine roaring in protest.
“I’m sorry, Scarlet. I get it. You don’t like to be touched.”
“I don’t like to be taken advantage of. I don’t like to be used. I don’t like to be played.” And if Tony shared any of his older brother’s genes, there was a good chance of all three.
“Then let’s be honest with each other. As scathing as you like.”
“I’ve been burned. I don’t trust easily. It’s that simple.” Her heart pounded in her chest.
“Trust is earned. I don’t expect you to trust me. You went through a terrible ordeal when you were younger at the hands of my arrogant shit of a brother.” He shook his head. “When did you last have fun?”
“I’m too busy for fun.” Tears welled up and blurred her vision, and she choked them back. She refused—refused—to show weakness in front of Tony Radcliff.
“Come down to Torquay with me. We could sit on the beach, feed chips to the seagulls, and stroll through the shallows. Better still, I could teach you to surf.”
“Thanks for your concern and your offer, but no thanks.” The sign for the Myrniong turn-off appeared and she sighed with relief. “Let’s hope the engineer’s on time.”
“What’s the claim worth, do you think?”
“Seven figures. The plaintiff’s a quadriplegic and the Worksafe report is scathing.” She strived to focus on the job ahead.
“You really don’t like the beach?”
“I’m more of a shopping mall kind of girl.” His words about honesty echoed in her head and she fought the recalcitrant need to be oppositional. “Fine. I like the beach. I used to fish with my dad. We had an old motorboat and I loved to drive it.”
“Where did you go for your holidays?”
“Eden in New South Wales. I loved it there. We used to hike to the summit of Mt. Imlay, and we’d fish off the beach at Haycock Point. We’d build a huge fire on the sand and cook fish in foil. And we fished off the pier at the woodchip mill and took a four-wheel drive track out to Lennards Island to fish off the rocks. But there were eels there and I hated catching those.” She shuddered. Even the thought of one twisting on the end of her line was disgusting.