Dalton, Tymber - Love and Brimstone [Brimstone Vampires 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Tymber Dalton

  “Match made in heaven then?”

  “Not if she tells you no on Friday.”

  “What?” Thompson sat up. “How could she possibly say no?”

  “I’ve been telling you,” Robertson said, “she’s not to be played. She senses a trap.”

  “Do we need to up the offer?”

  “Absolutely not. She’ll get suspicious.”

  “Well, what is it then?”

  “Matthias.”

  “I thought they got along rather well.”

  “That’s the problem. You don’t know her. I raised her. If there’s one thing that scares her, it’s feeling out of control. I’ve spent her entire life teaching her self-control, and she has practically none around him.”

  “I could send him to talk to her personally.”

  “No. She will refuse for sure.”

  “You don’t understand how he feels about her.”

  “Yes I do, and that’s the problem. She could sense it.”

  “How? That’s not possible.”

  “Have you ignored everything I’ve told you about her? She isn’t like us. She’s not even like Matthias and Rafael. She’s extremely perceptive.” Robertson fell silent for a moment. “I have an idea. Have Matthias schedule a board meeting Friday afternoon.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it. Routine stuff. Make something up. When you call her on Friday, don’t get her answer. Just ask her to drop by his office. Tell her Matthias wants a few moments of her time after the meeting to talk and get her answer in person. Say he’s on his way out of town and has a couple of minutes between the meeting and the airport. Set it up so she’s there for the tail end of the meeting, let her see him being professional. You’re smart. Figure something out. And ice him down. Maybe she’ll say yes.”

  “This is silly.”

  “It’s going to be a lot sillier if you don’t want her saying no. We won’t get a second chance.”

  “No one ever tells him no.”

  “She will if you don’t do what I say.”

  Thompson thought it over and sighed. “Fine. I’ll set something up.”

  “Good.”

  Thompson hung up and walked upstairs, where he knocked on Matthias’ door. He related the conversation, and Matthias considered it.

  “Maybe I did come on too strong.”

  “He thinks she’s attracted to you.”

  “Really?”

  “Matthias,” Albert scolded, “concentrate. This is no time for you to think of yourself.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “That was by your choice. I still don’t understand your logic.”

  “When was the last time you were married?”

  Albert didn’t answer.

  “Exactly my point,” Matthias said when Thompson didn’t respond.

  “I have loved.”

  “And they’re still alive, somewhere out there. It’s no fun burying your wife.”

  Albert softened his tone. “You can’t be sure she’ll love you, or even like you, Matthias. You’re waiting around like this, and you might be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

  “I’ve waited ten years. And a lot longer than that to meet someone like her. It’s nothing. I can wait as long as it takes.”

  “Well, you’ll have to back off regardless of your feelings. Let her get to know you. In fact, it might not be a bad idea if she doesn’t see much of you for the first several months.”

  “What?”

  “You said yourself you waited ten years. You can wait a while longer.”

  Matthias chewed it over for a few minutes and nodded. “Whatever needs to happen, set it up.”

  * * * *

  Albert called Taz on Friday morning. “Ms. Proctor, Mr. Hawthorne asked if you could please stop by his office late this afternoon to give him your answer in person. He has to leave for the airport by six, but his meeting should be over by five thirty. Then you can give him your answer in person.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “Fine. What’s the address?”

  Albert gave her the information, finished the call, and hung up. Robertson and Matthias looked at him. He fixed his gaze on Matthias. “Don’t screw this up.”

  Matthias shook his head, looking younger than his years. “I won’t.”

  * * * *

  Taz quietly followed Thompson into the back of the boardroom. If Hawthorne noticed her entrance, he didn’t acknowledge it. He was cool, professional, courteous to the attendees. She wasn’t sure what they were discussing, but she liked the way he ran his meeting. Respectfully, controlled. A don’t-fuck-with-me kind of guy who didn’t throw his weight around just because he could. He seemed to welcome input from the attendees, and everyone appeared at ease discussing items with him, even if they disagreed.

  She had decided on the drive over to say no, as much as she hated to. Now, after seeing him in action, she didn’t feel the heart-pounding yearning of the other night.

  Oh, he was still easy on the eyes, absolutely. But this side of him, the president of the company, was a different persona. The Ice Queen could coolly keep her distance and maintain her professionalism if this was what he was like on a daily basis.

  Couldn’t I?

  When the meeting ended, Hawthorne glanced at his watch—a Timex, not some obscenely expensive thing, she noted—and started gathering paperwork. Hawthorne didn’t look up as Thompson led her to the front of the room.

  “Mr. Hawthorne, Ms. Proctor is here to see you.”

  “Thank you, Albert.” He flashed her a smile without looking up from his papers. “I’m sorry I’m in a rush, Ms. Proctor, but my flight leaves at seven. Can we talk while we walk?”

  “Uh, sure.” What the hell?

  Well, okay. She wanted coolly professional? This was coolly professional.

  Hawthorne slowed his long strides enough she could keep up without jogging. Thompson trailed behind them.

  Hawthorne punched the elevator button. “So, have you considered our offer?” He didn’t meet her eyes, thumbing through his BlackBerry while he talked.

  Okay, a little rude, but understandable considering how busy he is. “Um, yes. Yes I did.”

  “And?” Hawthorne finally glanced at her, but their eyes didn’t meet.

  “Uh—” What was I going to say? Oh. “Yes. I think I’d like to try it.”

  What the hell. Why not?

  Hawthorne smiled. As his eyes briefly traveled across hers, she felt that deep warmth again, starting between her legs and spreading through her entire body. Then it disappeared as Hawthorne stepped into the elevator, motioning them both in behind him.

  “Good. Can you start Monday?”

  “I suppose. I might need to spend some time in the other office—”

  “Fine. Coordinate with Albert. I understand you’ll have loose ends to tie up. Do you have a passport?”

  “Yes, I do.” If I can find it. She hadn’t used it since her parents died.

  No. Won’t think about that.

  “You might want to keep it on you. Sometimes things crop up requiring immediate travel.”

  “Okay. I—”

  “Albert, you can get all the paperwork ready this evening? Walk her through HR and get everything completed?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hawthorne.”

  “Wonderful. Ms. Proctor”—Hawthorne shifted his briefcase and stuck out his hand, a quick squeeze and release before she had time to process it—“good to have you on board.” The elevator door slid open. Hawthorne smiled and stepped out into the parking garage. Again she felt a hint of the longing she’d had during their dinner. “Thompson will get everything started. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “Okay, thank—” Hawthorne walked away as the door slid shut, leaving Anastazia feeling slightly disoriented.

  Albert smiled, punched the button to take them up to the main office suite. “Welcome to our family, Ms. Proctor.”

  “Uh, okay. Thank you.”

  *
* * *

  Matthias climbed into the limo. “Home,” he told the driver.

  Robertson looked at him. “Well?”

  Matthias’ smile stretched from ear to ear. “She said yes.”

  Robertson let out a huge sigh of relief. “Finally.”

  “I was afraid she’d say no. I was sure she was going to, I felt it. How the hell did you know that would work?”

  “I raised her, need I remind you. I know her. Considering her parents and all she’s been through, anything that makes her feel the slightest bit out of control scares the crap out of her. And you, Matthias, make her feel out of control.”

  He looked out the window. “God, she’s amazing. She’s beautiful. Those gorgeous, green eyes. I just wanted to reach out and…and her mind—” He fell quiet, thinking about her.

  “Well, keep it in your pants, Matthias. I don’t care if you need to sit in an ice bucket, you have to let her get to know you or she will run.”

  “I would never force her to do anything. You know me better than that.”

  “Do you honestly think you could? You felt it yourself. You have no idea how powerful she is. Mark my words, one day she’ll have you groveling on your knees.” Robertson leaned forward, his expression hard and cold. “And if you hurt her, I don’t care how much older or more powerful you are than I, if you break her heart, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

  Matthias smiled. “You were the right choice to raise her, Tim.” He turned back to the window. “I just wish we could have protected her parents.

  Robertson nodded. “I know. I was worried about her. Do you really think it was more than an accident?”

  “I don’t have any proof, but I feel it.”

  * * * *

  Thompson made a call while they rode the elevator back up. Taz felt like a sleepwalker as he led her to human resources and shepherded her through paperwork. Then to IT, where she was issued an ID card, BlackBerry, laptop, and network passwords. A notary met them in Thompson’s office, and Taz signed forms for the power of attorney and corporate credit cards.

  This can’t be happening. This never happened. How much money did Matthias Hawthorne have that his business ran so smoothly? Forget efficient, this was some sort of magic.

  Then one last issue, a phlebotomist drew blood for the insurance and drug screening.

  “One-stop shop?” Anastazia quipped. “Staff vampires, huh?”

  Thompson’s head jerked up, and when he apparently realized she was referring to the technician, he relaxed, smiling.

  “Quite. Mr. Hawthorne values his employees and their time. No need to waste it sending you running around when we can have it all done here.”

  She also received a new set of keys, to Hawthorne’s home and office, along with her own office keys and passwords. Her office was two doors down from Hawthorne’s, separated by Thompson’s. It was gorgeous, with a huge desk and large windows.

  It was after seven when Taz drove home, still in a daze. The past couple of hours felt like a blur. Was she really working for Matthias Hawthorne? The new Targus laptop case filled her passenger seat. It really happened.

  She found two strange cars parked in her driveway, black Lincoln Town Cars. A man and a woman got out of one as she pulled in. At the same time, Anastazia’s new BlackBerry rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Proctor, it’s Albert Thompson. I meant to tell you, your corporate car will be delivered sometime this evening or tomorrow morning by ten at the latest. You’ll have to sign the papers there, but they should have a notary with them. You can use your corporate credit card for gas and any maintenance. I’ll have them for you on Monday. They’re being overnighted.”

  Wow! I guess when you have a large company you get priority service. “Uh, thank you. I think the car’s here already.”

  “Oh? Wonderful. I wasn’t sure they could get the order processed in time for tonight. I’ll let you go then.”

  “Thanks.” She hung up and got out of her car. The man smiled at her.

  “Ms. Proctor?” the salesman asked, introducing himself and the notary.

  Chapter Six

  Twenty minutes later, Taz still stood in her driveway, staring at her new Lincoln, when Robertson pulled in.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  It took her a moment to respond. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. “My new corporate car.”

  “You took the job?”

  She nodded.

  “Congratulations, Taz.” He hugged her and noticed she seemed dazed. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, I guess. I’m just not used to such…”

  “Efficiency?”

  She nodded. “I mean—” She thought about it. Was she really complaining the paperwork seemed to need nothing more than signatures? That it was painless? That it was…

  Efficient?

  Spooky.

  “When do you start?”

  “Monday.”

  “Excellent.”

  She spent the weekend working, bringing her former assistant up to speed. She would have to spend several hours in her old office on Monday, and Bob Stanley told her not to worry about clearing it out yet.

  “If it doesn’t work out, I meant it when I said you can come back. I don’t want to kick you out. You’re too valuable.”

  “Thanks, Bob. I appreciate that.”

  “Although, considering the history I have with Hawthorne’s company, I can’t imagine you wouldn’t want to work for him. Wonderful family, great business. Never hear anything negative about him or his corporation.”

  * * * *

  She checked in with Albert Thompson on Monday morning. “I’ll be there in a few hours.”

  “Wonderful. No rush. Mr. Hawthorne understands you need to work through the transition.”

  She pulled into the parking garage at Hawthorne International just after lunch, and the gate opened immediately. She was going to turn in to the main parking area, but another gate arm lowered, blocking her access. The only way she could turn was to valet parking.

  An attendant opened her door when she pulled up. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to find out how to get to the main parking area.”

  The guy smiled. “No, Ms. Proctor, you’re in the right place. You’re assigned to valet.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “How did you know my name?”

  He pointed to the booth, where a green light blinked on a control screen next to the computer. “Your car has a sensor—all the top execs do. It tells us who it is and automatically directs you here so we can park you.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “When you’re ready to leave,”—he handed her a laminated card—“punch this code into your phone, and we’ll have it waiting.”

  She looked at it. “Okay. Thanks.” She gathered her things and, feeling like she’d dropped down Alice’s rabbit hole, headed for the elevator.

  “Your parking setup is rather efficient,” she commented to Thompson who, most likely notified by the valet, was waiting for her upstairs by the elevator when she stepped out.

  He took her laptop case from her and smiled. “Yes, it is. Why should you have to spend time looking for parking and walking around? It’s a great time-saver.”

  “I guess.”

  He led her to her office and set the case on her desk while she looked around.

  “Mr. Hawthorne might not be in today,” he said, “but he told me to make sure you’re comfortable. Also, he told me to call the decorator if you wish to change the office around.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” she assured him. “It’s fine.”

  “And if the chair”—at least a five-hundred dollar, top-of-the-line model that was like sitting on air—“isn’t comfortable, feel free to get whatever works best for you. Just put it on a corporate card.” He handed her an envelope with three different credit cards. Platinum Amex. Visa. MasterCard.

  She looked around and resis
ted the urge to pinch herself. “I’m waiting to wake up and find myself in a dream.”

  Thompson smiled. She really liked him, sensed he was a powerful man to have on her side. Maybe it was because his eyes were the same clear blue as Robertson’s that he reminded her so much of him.

  “Mr. Hawthorne is well aware his company is run by employees, not by him. He knows that to be the best, you have to hire the best and treat them like royalty to keep them.”

  “I bet the Christmas party is a real hoot, huh?”

  “Wait until you see the employee cafeteria.”

  Thompson gave her the tour. Hawthorne International owned the entire building. The lower eight floors were leased to tenants. From there up, the other twelve floors were corporate offices. Well, except for the five-star restaurant—employee cafeteria—occupying most of one floor. In addition to two floors containing a health club, complete with Olympic-sized indoor pool, medical clinic, dental office, day care center, hair salon, massage—

  “Did the Google guys ever work here?” she half joked.

  “No, but one of their vice presidents did. He liked many of our ideas.”

  A golden retriever ran out from one office and greeted them in the hallway. Thompson laughed as he bent down to pet it. “Hello, Winston, old boy. And there are other perks.”

  “So I see.”

  Okay, so obviously Matthias Hawthorne can’t be an asshole if he lets people bring pets and kids to work, right?

  They worked their way back to the top floor, which contained their offices, a security station with three guards on duty, conference rooms, and a private library. There were no administrative assistants or receptionists on their floor, which she thought was odd. It was very private. Except for meetings and the practically invisible security staff, it would normally be just the three of them.

  “Mr. Hawthorne values his privacy,” Thompson said as if reading her thoughts. “Considering the nature of our many businesses, it’s best not to have people poking around. Easier to bring in those we need rather than worrying about keeping others out. If you were wondering, only certain ID cards allow access to this floor unattended. If you need assistance with paperwork or tasks such as that, your assistant is one floor below. You can video conference with her or she can come up to you. You don’t have to go down to her unless you want to.”