by Carter, Ivy
“And if we’re not willing to let the product go for that amount of money?” I challenge.
“On the chance someone else might offer higher?” Duke’s expression hardens. “That would be foolish. I must stress that this is a one-time deal. I highly doubt you’ll find a better offer.”
It’s true Kingston Industries is one of the top tech companies in Chicago, perhaps the whole United States. But he isn’t the only potential investor and I’m not convinced his competitors wouldn’t make a similar—or better—deal. Especially if they know that someone else is into it.
Jake clears his throat. He’s looking quite worse for wear this morning, unshaven, blood-shot eyes, and I have half a mind to ask him just how late he was up drinking his sorrows away last night.
But I can’t exactly claim to be pure as snow at the moment either, so I sit silently as Jake asks his question.
“What are your intentions for the device?” Jake half-croaks.
“Strip it down,” Duke says.
Jake’s face pales. “Strip it down? You mean roll back all the work we did to make it what it is?”
“Eventually it could be a useful product,” Duke says, completely dismissing the look of horror in Jake’s eyes.
“There’s no one that knows it better than us,” I say, an attempt to divert the conversation before Jake gets emotional. Showing weakness isn’t the way to impress Duke—I know that first hand. “If we agreed to a buy-out, who would work on the device?”
Another kick comes at me from under the table.
I ignore it and focus on Duke. He strokes his beard, as if contemplating. My heart races. Selling the MicroTracker outright isn’t a perfect scenario, but for three college grads, it should be a dream come true. Problem is, I’m not ready to let control of the product go.
“What if you hired us to work on the project?” I say, my voice sounding strangely confident in my own ears.
Duke whips his head to me. I’m wearing a soft, V-neck sweater.
Duke’s gaze slides down the front of my sweater briefly before returning to my face.
“This is my offer,” he says calmly, as if he knew it would go this route from the very beginning. “I will purchase the MicroTracker for eight hundred thousand dollars, payable in one installment. In addition, you will each have a job at Kingston Industries, with the sole purpose of turning the device into something that can eventually be taken to market.”
My pulse spikes. “What’s our annual salary?”
“One hundred thousand dollars.”
Forrest barely contains a gasp. “Each?”
Duke continues as though he hasn’t heard the question. “After three years, your contracts will be re-evaluated.”
Holy shit.
It’s not an excessive wage, but a cushy job at Kingston Industries fresh out of school is at the top of every IT student’s bucket list. We’d be the envy of our classmates. I’d be able to rent an apartment with a real hot water tank. Maybe buy a condo on the North Side.
I am totally in, but in my peripheral vision, I see a pale, unshaven Jake chewing on the inside of his cheek. Getting him on board will be a tougher sell.
Duke stands and smooths the creases out of his steel-gray jacket. “I’ll leave the room and give you a moment to discuss my offer.”
“Thank you, sir,” Forrest practically gushes.
At the door, Duke turns. He looks at me, but the warning is intended for us all. “If you try and leverage this to get a better deal somewhere else, or take advantage of my generosity in any way, I will make sure you never work in this industry again.”
A chill ripples through my spine.
Duke Kingston is a cold asshole, but I can’t help but stare at his backside as he leaves the room. It should be fucking illegal for an ass to be that firm.
“That went well,” Forrest says, rubbing his hands together. He’s like a kid in a candy store and Duke has offered him unlimited lollipops.
“He won’t give us credit for the innovation,” Jake says. “Rich motherfuckers like him think they can take everything, take all of our work and pretend it’s theirs.” His eyes have dark circles under them and it’s clear he hasn’t been sleeping.
Seems this breakup is more serious than I gave credit for, but now is not the time to worry about Jake’s love life.
“Jake has a point,” I say. “We’ll be nothing but salaried employees.”
“So what?” Forrest says, with a snort. “We’ll have enough money to create a new product. Something bigger and better than the MicroTracker.”
Jake sneers. “No, we’ll be stuck in this building working as slaves for the billionaire that bought our product.”
“There are worse places to be enslaved,” I say, and my mind takes me right back to the storage room at the restaurant. I shake my head to re-set my thoughts and rest my hand on Jake’s arm. “I know it’s not ideal.”
“It blows,” he says, flinching away from my attempt to calm him. “First Marissa’s trying to ruin my life, and now Duke Kingston is joining in.”
Forrest glares at him. “Seriously dude, you’ll have more money than you dreamed of. And we’ll have jobs. Am I the only one that’s clued in to that important fact?”
Not even close. I’ve already begun mentally scrolling through the real estate ads in search of an upscale loft. Maybe something above a hip coffee shop. I’ll buy new furniture, get a real coffee table, something antique and sturdy. The kind of piece my mom would admire.
Jake shakes his head. “I’m not going to take this deal,” he says. “I’m not going to just take it in the ass from this rich prick.”
Forrest makes a face. “Good Lord, so now you’re going to screw all of us out of a deal, Jake. What is wrong with you?”
Jake makes a smug face. “I have morals, I have values, unlike some.”
“This isn’t about your ex-girlfriend, dude. Get it together,” Forrest whispers harshly.
The two glare at each other and I wonder just how much they talk to one another about things I’m not privy to. I wonder what they say about me…
But none of that matters. I have to find a way to keep this deal from falling apart.
And then it hits me. “What if we make him a counter offer?”
Jake’s eyes light up. “Now that I like. Make him hurt a little for a change.”
“Fine,” Forrest says, conceding at last. “Negotiate.”
I’m anxious but also a little excited.
Negotiating with Duke Kingston could go one of two ways—impress him or piss him off. I exhale a deep breath. We have no choice but to hope for the best.
Forrest rests his hand on my shoulder, all serious now. “You know we trust you, right?”
I nod.
But I also happen to know that they have no good reason to trust me. I’m under Duke Kingston’s spell and it will take a miracle for me not to bend to his every whim.
Chapter 9
“One point five million dollars.”
Duke’s mouth twitches. “Are you counter offering me?”
I stiffen my spine. “That’s pennies to you, Mr. Kingston, and you know it.”
The tension in the room thickens. “I didn’t get rich investing in shit,” he says, sneering.
“Exactly,” I say. My voice is on the verge of trembling. I force myself not to give in to weakness, hold my ground. “If the MicroTracker was truly shit, you would have kicked us out of here yesterday.”
“Perhaps I should have,” he fires back.
I almost respond--And you wouldn’t have brought me to orgasm in the storage room at Chicago’s swankiest restaurant.
But I keep my voice calm, pretend I’m not getting wet just thinking about last night. My fingers close in around my water glass. I squeeze until my knuckles turn white. “You want the product.”
He licks his lips and damn if it doesn’t turn me on. He pushes away from the conference table and stands. Starts to pace. “Nine hundred thousand.”
I shake my head. “One million and a four-year contract.”
Behind me, Jake breathes heavily out his mouth.
Duke stands at the window, his back facing us, feet spread about an inch apart. I admire the way his slacks cling to his muscular thighs. I’ve given those thighs a lot of consideration in the past few hours. Not to mention the rest of his formidable body.
“Kingston Industries only gives three year contracts.”
“Make an exception.”
He spins around to glare at me. I meet the challenge head on. “I don’t make exceptions,” he says, his eyes darkening.
“You know we have potential. We’re worth it.”
I’m worth it.
“I’d advise you to not get too cocky, Miss Locke.”
I lower my gaze, acknowledging the mistake. In a much softer, less aggressive voice, I say, “With the problems you’ve identified for the MicroTracker, we’ll need extra time to perfect it.”
“But I will maintain total control,” Duke says, staring at me, as if we’re negotiating another, separate deal at the same time.
My adrenaline spikes. “Well, of course. The product…everything…would belong to you.”
“Damn straight,” Duke says. He runs a hand through his hair. “One million dollars and a four-year contract to work on the project, $100,000 per year each. That’s my final offer and it runs out in…” He glances at the expensive-looking watch on his right wrist. “One minute.”
“Take the deal,” Forrest whispers.
It’s close to everything we’ve ever asked for, but there’s one piece missing. I stand taller, and clear my throat. “One additional caveat…”
Duke’s expression goes dark, almost sinister.
“We want a cut of the royalties. At least five percent.”
Duke shakes his head. “Forget it.”
Not a chance. This is one way to ensure we are recognized in some part for our innovation. “If the device is as useless as you say, you won’t need to worry about annual royalty checks.”
His scowl falters and I know I’ve got him. Duke Kingston plays impressive hard ball, but even he’s got an Achilles heel—he enjoys a good negotiation. “Three percent,” he says. “Total.”
“For life?”
He grunts. “Sure. Whatever. But the paperwork gets done now.”
I look to both Jake and Forrest, both of whom have been scared silent throughout the entire process. I’m too anxious to feel pride.
They nod—even Jake--and I deliver the message. “We happily agree.”
Duke stares at me for a long minute, his stony expression unreadable. And just when I think he’s going to call an end to the whole deal, he says, “I’ll have the contracts drawn up.”
I hold my breath until after he leaves the room. It comes out in one giant gasp.
Forrest’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “I have no idea where that came from, but I like it!”
Jake seems much less enthused, but he’s not bitching about the deal, so that’s something.
Meanwhile, I’m shaking from the adrenaline rush. But beneath my nerves something more ominous lingers, a kind of deep foreboding about what this deal will mean for me and Duke. Negotiation should leave a person empowered, confident. I’m all that, but I’m also ridiculously turned on. And that isn’t a feeling I should have, especially now that Duke is my boss.
Duke re-enters the room with a stack of paperwork. He sets them on the boardroom table without a word, and pours himself a glass of water from the decanter. Sunlight hits it and rainbow prism reflects onto the wall.
I read through the contract, the Non-Disclosure Agreement, the long list of employee rules, dutifully signing and initialing. My heart races. I can hardly wait to share the news with…
A lump forms in my throat.
According to this ironclad Non-Disclosure agreement I can’t really tell anyone about anything—not the product we developed, the technology, or the work I do at Kingston Industries.
Fine. I’ll celebrate with Onyx, and make a mental note to buy a bottle of cheap champagne.
I glance up, meeting Duke’s eyes, and my limbs go limp. It hits me again that I am now officially Duke Kingston’s employee.
I work for a man that literally turns my guts inside out. Unease chips away at my excitement.
Jake and Forrest hand over their signed documents. Duke skims them, and extends his hand to shake each of theirs. “Welcome to the company. You’ll start tomorrow at 8 a.m. Now, there’s a meeting scheduled in this boardroom, so I must ask that you all leave.”
I look up from the documents. “May I have a moment of your time first?”
Duke’s upper lip curls. “It can’t wait until morning?”
I avoid eye contact with Jake and Forrest. “It can’t.”
“In my office, then.” After a pause, he says, “Jake. Forrest. Tomorrow.”
They walk out, and I once again feel a sense of deep separation from my partners. It’s like signing the deal has cut the ties that bound us and now I’m on my own, floating.
Nobody to protect me from Duke Kingston and whatever he wants…
The long walk to the elevator feels like a death sentence. The halls are quiet, Duke is silent, and the echo of my heels beat as loud as any war chant. I’m almost grateful for the silence as my mind churns, looking for the right words. I have no idea what I’m going to say.
We join two others in the elevator, who nod curtly at me and acknowledge Duke with a “Good morning, sir.” But when they get off on the eleventh floor, I realize Duke’s office is on the top floor, and we’ll be alone for the rest of the ride.
“Thank you for the dessert,” I say, trying to remind him of the romantic gesture he made with the flowers and chocolate.
His response is a cool grunt.
I lean against the wall, carefully inching away from Duke. His essence is overpowering, and I feel myself getting weak.
I close my eyes to avoid his reflection, and he’s still all I see. My fingertips feather across my wrist and trace the faint outline of what’s left from the rope burns. I’ve hidden them, but to me, they’re like a neon sign announcing the precise moment I became someone else.
I’m not sure how I feel about that girl.
The elevator pings, the door slides open, and Duke motions for me to step into the hall. Even though I’m relieved to be out of the confined space, I can’t mask the disappointment that clouds my common sense. Maybe part of me wanted Duke to slam me up against the elevator door and devour me with his mouth.
My stomach flutters.
Duke’s office is dark and lush, sparsely decorated with rich wooden furniture, a fully-stocked bookshelf, and minimal accents.
His desk takes up a third of the room.
Paperwork is stacked atop it in neat piles. A framed photograph balances on the edge, but I can only see the back of the frame, and for some reason it’s almost vital that I see what picture is so important that he keeps it on his desk.
Duke’s office is dark, impersonal. I get the sense he spends a lot of time in it, and yet, there’s not one item that tells me something about him I don’t know from reading the news.
Duke motions me inside, leaving the door open. He leans against his desk and folds his arms across his broad chest. I stand, nervously wringing my hands together, like a damn school girl in front of her professor.
“Go ahead,” he says.
I blink. “Sorry?”
Impatience pinches his handsome features. “You obviously have something important to talk to me about.”
“It’s just…” I’m shaken by the tone of his voice, and my confidence deflates faster than a popped helium balloon. “Well, I…”
“Spit it out,” he snaps.
I straighten, take a deep breath. “I had a really nice time last night…” He quirks an eyebrow. It takes all my willpower not to glance away. “…but now that we work together...” I cough. “Or rather, now that I wor
k for you, I don’t think it would be appropriate for anything else to happen.” My heart beat picks up speed. “Not that I was assuming anything was going to happen.”
He doesn’t say anything, which turns me into a blabbering mess.
I giggle awkwardly. “It’s just that I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression about me.”
“What impression do you think I have?” he asks, his expression unchanged.
A lump grows in my throat. “Well, I’m not sure, really.” Except I know that it can’t be good. Professional. And that’s what I want—what I really want. I think. “I’m good at my job, Mr. Kingston. I know the product, and I’ll work hard and dedicate myself to this company.”
“I have no doubt.”
The knot across my shoulder blade begins to unwind. “And I think it’s better if there are no miscommunications. No distractions.”
Duke uncrosses his arms and walks across the room to close the door.
“I agree,” he says.
My relief is somehow dampened by an inexplicable sense of disappointment. As though deep down I wanted him to disagree, to say that I could have him and still do my job without guilt. Which is ridiculous. Whatever happened between us last night was a mistake, a lapse in judgment. For both of us.
Duke extends his hand. “Here’s to be being professional.”
We shake, and an electric bolt zips along my spine. I try to disengage, but his grip tightens. He stares at me with an intensity that makes my knees go weak. I’m wet. My nipples are as hard as pebbles.
“Mr. Kingston?” My voice drops to a whisper. “What are you doing?”
Chapter 10
Duke’s eyes flicker with a glimmer of mischief before he yanks on my wrist, turns me around, and bends me over his desk. My palms land flat against the surface, my cheek pressed into a stack of paper.
His hand slides down the back of my leg. “You are an incredibly presumptuous young lady.” He tugs on the edge of my skirt and then pulls it upright, exposing black lace underwear that barely covers my ass. He sucks in a gasp. “Did you think you could tell me how to run my business without consequence?”