by Tara Lynn
I smiled and edged towards her. “I can't help it if you stand out from those around you.”
Jesse looked softly through the two of us. He must have seen that this was more than a short term play for me. He rose out from the table.
“Pardon me,” he said. “I see a few white clouds around that I want to turn dark and stormy for the company.” He turned to Kerry. “Ms. Martin, I hope I’ve made clear the nature of your team’s purpose.”
“Quite clear,” Kerry said. “I’ll pass the information on.”
“Good.”
They shook hands. He gave me a curt nod, then slid over into a table of round, old white men, not far away.
“I like him,” Kerry said, eyes glazed as she watched him work.
“Just how much exactly?”
She laughed. “Are you feeling threatened?”
The crystal promise of her laugh washed the tension out of me like a hit of opium. My grandfather had offered me a puff of his old pipe once, and I'd never taken another. He hadn't been an addict, but he had far more discipline than even me. Stone Holdings had grown to its current size thanks to him. My father only managed to keep it stagnant in his short tenure.
Kerry was proving to be far more addictive than any drug though, now that she was relaxed. The purpose of all this must gotten through to her.
“I’m not threatened,” I said. “Just contemplating the cost of a hitman.”
“I’m surprised you two haven’t sent one after each other already.”
“Ah it'd be too much of a mess if it didn't work.”
“Really?”
Her smile had dimmed. Did we look that bad?
“Relax,” I said. “We’re not feuding royalty. None of us is going to end up penniless as long as this company stands.”
“But the company means a lot to both of you. It's not just about money.”
She had that right. I chuckled without much humor. “Aren't you an accountant?”
“Only in business. And I think that ended when your brother walked away.” She shrugged. “Guess we're back to networking.”
It should have made me laugh, but my mood was falling swiftly under the clouds.
Networking was mostly Jesse's domain. I won my friends through strength. Even Trey kind of feared me at times.
But fear would not let me keep this company. Making money might, but it still didn't earn me any respect. My father may have written me into his will, but I had no doubt he died loathing me.
We were Texan royalty and I had never quite been satisfied with that. After I refused to accept my reserved family spot at Rice University, he had even said, “You may be my blood, but you are no real Stone.”
So why give me the company?
In a way Kerry had revealed his true purpose. Nothing brings a man greater despair than giving him what he wants before ripping it away. Deep down, I always knew that I was just warming the CEO seat for Jesse to grow up a little.
“I'm kidding,” Kerry said. “It's just our joke right?”
Our booth was dark and murky. Her heat seemed to burn brighter in it. I edged closer like a plant seeking the sun.
“Sorry darlin'. I think I'm showing too much of my hand today. Are you satisfied that I didn’t just orchestrate this whole gig to get you in my lap?”
She glanced down at my legs, her gaze itself warming me as much as a touch. My mood swung up as quickly as it had fallen.
“You’re awfully optimistic, but yeah, at least this part of your little scheme worked.” She tipped in on an elbow, just a tip of the head away from my mouth. “Did you really just bring me here to prove you hadn’t made up this job?”
“For starters,” I turned in towards us. “I was hoping it might give you the appetite for something more.”
“You are way too bold for your own good. You know that?”
“You call it boldness. I call it being honest. And honestly, I’m sorry that I trapped you with this project. But I don’t regret bringing you closer to me.”
“Well.” Her breath tickled my lips. “I’m still angry at you.”
“Would a trip to Abu Dhabi on a private jet tip the scales in my favor?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that would look great to the rest of my team.”
“Let them think what they think,” I said. “You don’t want to be caged, fine. First place to start is freeing yourselves from the opinions of others. It’s true in business. It’s especially true in pleasure.”
Her eyes flared wide. Her lips parted, but no words came out. She eyed my mouth, but didn’t budge.
She wasn’t going to listen to her own desires? Fine. I could be the one that took us back over the edge. The country club frowned on PDA, but what use was money without freedom?
I dipped in.
“Deacon. I heard you were here.”
My lust shattered at the shrill voice. I snapped up, and saw my mother’s lined, grey face scowling at me. She was dress in tennis whites, along with another large man who heaved at her side.
Demetri had told me she’d be here. It was always a pleasure to flaunt a wrong woman in her face, but this look…well, this felt much darker.
“I didn’t realize you were preoccupied,” she said.
“Just a casual meeting is all.” I spread my arms out along the booth, forcing myself to keep the heat from my face. Kerry glanced up, flustered like a frightened mouse.
“I just wanted to bring over our frontrunner for the Republican gubernatorial primary,” she said. “Mr. Roland Tarly.”
“Pleasure to see you again,” the round man offered a sweaty handshake, which I had no choice but to accept. It certainly evacuated the last heat from my groins.
“Nice to see you too,” I managed to get out. “Frontrunner, now, huh? That’s fantastic. I’m glad we’ve got you on our team.”
Tarly pudgy face grew tighter. “I agree. Your brother says you are abandoning us, though.”
Shit, what madness was this? He must be talking about the solar project. Jesse wasn't even in sight anymore.
“I'm abandoning no one,” I said.
“Your family and mine have worked together for generations,” Tarly said. “We could continue for another one or two more, but it seems you'd rather shift your company from oil to solar.”
“Sir, I assure you this is not the case.” I glanced at Kerry. “Tell them how small a deal this is for us.”
She had shrunk back into her seat, but she straightened a bit. “Uh, it's less than a percent of Stone Holdings.”
“Hmph,” Tarly said. “Everything big starts off as a small thingl.”
I could hardly argue that looking at his round frame. Luckily, he simply wandered off to the bar.
“And who is this?” Mother blinked furiously at Kerry.
“Ah, this is Ms. Kerry Martin.” I glanced warily at Kerry. “Kerry, my mother, Mrs. Grace Stone.”
“It’s an honor, Mrs. Stone,” Kerry shot out a hand.
“Charmed.” She shook it limply. “And what are you doing with my son?”
“I’m an outside consultant, Mrs. Stone.”
“We were just having a business meeting,” I said. “Jesse was with us until a moment ago.”
“Yes, he was the one who told me you were around.”
“Fantastic,” I beamed, grinding my teeth to dust. “Well, nice to see you both.”
“Oh, so good to see you too dear.” My mother gave Kerry an icy smile. “It's nice to see that my son is not alone as he runs the family reputation into the ground.”
She turned and walked off towards her big friend. Were they together? I honestly didn't give a damn.
“What the hell was that?” Kerry whispered at me.
“The thorn in my paw,” I said. “Welcome to my family.”
She shot me a look that made it clear just how welcome she felt.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kerry
Sleep mugged down on my eyelids as we touched down in Abu Dhabi
International. After convincing myself we weren't going to crash, I shut my eyes for a last few precious moments of rest.
My phone buzzed. Guess I'd forgotten to set it in airport mode.
Leo gave me a stern look as we taxied to our terminal. He couldn't exactly pull off 'menacing' with his curly ginger hair, but I got the hint. Accountants tended to be heavily on the risk averse side, even with little things.
I checked the phone. There was just a text from Mira: Land safe, sugar mama?
Cute. I'd need to be clear with her that my sugar was on limited supply when we got back. I had enough juice until she could get her footing – no more. Sure, I owed her my life for freeing me from the grip of my own parents, but she shouldn’t just tie herself to me either.
At least, she couldn't protest about the full time cat sitting duty this assignment placed on her. Snowflake sure didn't mind.
I read her message again, then, on a whim, went down and checked for any other new ones. Deacon’s message chain lay exactly where we’d left it: You’ll come around, darlin’.
What more did I expect? He’d spent Sunday night texting me and trying to recover the moment his mom had stolen, and I had dampened expectations. I wasn’t exactly upset. Sure I'd left after the run-in with his mom, but that hadn’t been a storm-out.
I scrolled up to the first text he’d sent: Didn’t plan on you meeting the family so soon. That’s skipping right past the good parts.
I smiled. Seeing his family actually made me feel a whole lot better. Sure, his mother looked at me like I was Mary Magdalene. But once my heart stopped beating from that, Deacon seemed downright tame in comparison. Between her breathing down on him and his brother trying to slip me into his suit, it was no wonder he’d become a guy who went hard for what he wanted.
But that didn’t excuse his behavior. It certainly didn’t make almost kissing him any less a mistake. Good thing his mother had cut in at the right moment.
The seatbelt light came off. Our team rose from our business seats up front and starting passing down trim roll-ons from above. We'd be going back and forth for the next few weeks.
Despite the project size, seven people was still a small team. Yet, I barely knew more than their names. Avoiding Deacon all last week had somehow isolated me more than being with him would have. Well, I was going to be completely professional here.
And ignore the dreams about Deacon that had kept me restless the whole plane ride.
“Get enough sleep?” Leo asked. “You looked like you had a rough trip.”
“I'm ok,” I said, rubbing my face.
“I can have a shuttle pick you up from the hotel a bit later,” he said. “You could nap for an hour.”
I snorted. “This isn't my first assignment, Leo. I don't need kid gloves.”
“No kid gloves. You're presenting after me, and I need you sharp. You're bringing the scalpel with your questions.”
“No other reason?”
He gave a flat smile. “I am trying to use you well, Kerry. That's all. I don't care if you're family friends with the Stones.”
Family friends - That was the rumor? I barely kept from laughing. The only connection between my family and Deacon’s was that they were both uniquely messed up.
“Well, fine then,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
We disembarked and went out through the gate, through immigration. The booths were modern and gleaming with white light, but a strange stone and dust smell filled the air. It was a foreign smell, completely unlike Houston, unlike anywhere I'd been in the US.
I was in the Middle East. It finally hit me through my tired haze. I was away from everything I knew.
I glanced around and saw other lines. I fixed on one family: a man, two girls and...a woman entirely shrouded in a black burka. Maybe she could see me, but I stared, completely stunned.
Many other Arab women were not completely covered. Some even wore normal designer clothes, but I could not lift my eyes from the woman in black all through the line.
That’s what I’d be wearing if my family had been Muslim and not Christian. I didn't want to know what the punishment would be here for defying it. I'd gotten it hard, but I'd never feared for my life.
It couldn’t be the law if other woman dressed freely. Someone made her wear it. Maybe that someone even made her think it was her choice. It was probably the man who claimed to love her, who told her it was the right thing.
The guy who would show her no mercy if she didn't give him what he expected.
My anger rose and fell like a flash flood. I couldn’t fix that. I had to save my energy for what I could fix. Spreading solar was at least a noble goal. Maybe by doing that, somehow, some of that sunlight would reach that woman.
A shuttle took us downtown towards our hotel on the corniche - the beachfront part of the city. I'd been on assignment in New York before. The Abu Dhabi skyline gave Manhattan a good run in parts. The waters on our right were turquoise and royal blue, a perfect eighty-five degrees this time of year, our driver said.
The city seemed like a playground. It would be a dream to explore. But I couldn't forget about the woman imprisoned in her own clothing.
The hotel was a beige skyscraper that tore into the sky like a giant anthill. We each had our own rooms.
“Room 2017,” Leo said, handing me the room key and a Habibi Solar business card. “Take a taxi there by eleven. I’ll let them know to have someone waiting to send you up.”
“I appreciate it.” He wouldn’t let go of the card though.
“Sleep. Alright?” he said, finally handing it off.
“The hard part’s going to be not sleeping on the elevator ride up.”
Yet somehow, ten minutes later, I was texting Mira and Antoine my new view. It was amazing looking out on the Persian Gulf, with cars crawling like ants far below. No way I would spend my own money on a place like this, but it must be nothing to a guy like Deacon.
What must it be like to be a billionaire? To fly anywhere you saw fit, to have true mastery over the world? Maybe I should have flown here with Deacon.
But I wouldn’t be the master. Just the master’s pet.
I never once get this view, Mira texted back. And my family stops by there all the time on the way to India.
Why am I receiving texts from a sheik’s concubine? Antoine asked.
I tried to snipe him back but thinking used up my last reserve of energy. I’d get him back at his birthday party on Saturday. I had all week to find the right words. Oh, and also a gift, probably.
I flopped back on the bed. One day, I’d be able to rent this place on my own. That’d be the real last laugh.
I passed out.
My alarm woke me on the dime, but after I showered and prepped, I was ten minutes behind schedule. I hurried down and got into one of the silver cabs out front.
The streets whizzed by beautiful as ever, but I scrambled through my presentation a couple more times. By the time I jolted into the lobby of the corporate tower with Habibi Solar, the lines were etched deep into my memory.
“Which floor?” I asked the guard.
“Thirteen,” a familiar voice boomed out behind me. “The Muslims don’t consider it unlucky. Of course they have their own superstitions to make up for it.”
I turned. Deacon strode up in his trademark reluctant formal: sharp blue sports coat, slick tan pants and slip on leather shoes. His smile glowed like the desert sun.
Oh god, that golden face was so hard to stay angry at. I felt a matching smile emerge on my lips. Better not look too long, or I’d get burnt.
“Leo sent you down for me?” I asked.
“You think I take orders from a redheaded doughboy like that?”
“Guess we’re just going to be fashionably late then.”
“Late, yes. Fashionable?” His slate eyes scoured my body as if I were wearing an evening gown and not a frumpy dark pantsuit. “That's a calmer word than how I’d describe what you have on, but sure.”<
br />
“Miss Martin?” A woman asked as she came over from side lobby. “Ah, Mr. Stone. Perfect. I am Hamida Al Darbi in Human Resources. I was asked to pick up both of you.”
She had a pretty oval face and straight features, but her hair was covered in a sheer checkered scarf. It looked pretty, but it didn’t seem like a simple fashion accessory. She was in one of the most advanced companies in the country, and she still had to hide a bit of her away from the world.
“You two can go up together?” she asked. “You are going to different places.”
“That’s no problem,” Deacon said. “We’ve gone down together, going up should be easier.”
“Oh.” Hamida looked confused. “Then, please come with me.”
Red with embarrassment, I followed. Having something to cover my face with suddenly didn’t sound that bad at all.
****
“Here’s to an amazing first week, guys and gals,” Leo said, holding up a shot glass. “Cheers!”
“Cheers!” Our little circle of sofas roared and tossed back the vodka in the glass. I gagged, but held my breath and swallowed the rest.
Warm night air gusted over us, even thirty stories up on the open rooftop bar. Around us, other couples, friends, and co-workers sat in their own squares or loitered by the railing watching the city twinkle for miles around.
“More shots?” Leo asked.
The team pounded the coffee table between us. I really wanted to pass. A couple more and I might end up tipping over the railing by the end of the night.
The bigger worry was about tipping over a more figurative line.
“Listen, guys,” Deacon boomed next to me. “I don’t want to hear the line item description of everything you’re drinking. Just keep the taps flowing until you can’t handle another drop.”
My team whopped and hollered. Yeah, Deacon down-in-the-dirt Stone liked to get cozy with the line workers. And now, that was us.
Deacon reclined and toasted me with an empty glass. “That means you too, sweetheart.” His voice rustled like the breeze.
He had left me on edge the whole week. He hadn’t done anything obvious: no hands on my shoulders, or toes tickling my thighs. But that still left plenty of room for lingering smiles, or pressing in near me during meetings, and shooting little comments here and there. Little things that made me remember all the ways he could cash in on what his swagger promised.