Oui: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 1)

by Brooklyn Knight

  Laila raised her hand and answered a question.

  Dr. Wyman called my name pulling me out of my disturbing thoughts. “Mr. Hanson, is there anything you would like to say about this topic?” He raised an eyebrow.

  I shifted in my seat. “No,” I responded, looking at the back of Laila’s head. “I think Miss Renaud has touched on all the relevant points.”

  Laila shook her head and looked back with a questioning stare.

  At the end of class, she walked over to my seat as I packed my supplies away, holding her books against her chest.

  I didn’t look at her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  I slapped my books closed and opened my bag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

  Laila shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Ryder, I made several comments in class – some of them didn’t even make sense - and not once did you come back at me. That is not normal.”

  “We are not normal anymore,” I alleged. “Things are different between us, for various reasons.”

  “So that’s why you didn’t shoot me down the way you always do? Because we spent the weekend together?”

  “I told you, I’m not that guy anymore. I’m trying to show you something different.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “Or, maybe you’re upset about the fact that I was offered an internship position at Hamilton Associates.”

  I looked at her as if what she’d said was off the mark. “Why would I be upset about something like that? You and I working together means I’ll get to see you every day, even after we graduate.”

  “It also means that we’ll be in direct competition with each other,” she calculated. “Come on, Ryder. Stop acting as if this is not our reality.”

  I had no response. I couldn’t deny what she was saying, so I wouldn’t; but neither would I give her the satisfaction and benefit of knowing that she was right. That had too many implications; negative implications that I was unwilling to accept and could not afford.

  “So you’re not going to say anything?”

  “What’s the point in saying something?” I asked releasing a sigh. “I know where you’re going with this. You’re trying to make a case for why we can’t try.”

  “We can’t try because you can’t be honest with me,” she said.

  I grabbed my books and started shoving them into my messenger bag. Laila dropped her hand on top of them, forcing me to stop what I was doing and look into her face.

  “Tell me that you’re happy for me,” she demanded.

  “I’m happy for you, Lai,” I said quickly.

  She stared at me. “Tell me you’re excited that I got an internship position at Hamilton Associates, despite there only being one advertised.”

  I searched her face and tried to swallow my anxiety. “I’m excited for you,” I whispered.

  She stood straight, removing her hand from the stack of books. “Tell me that even if I outperform you at Hamilton Associates, you won’t sabotage me, the way you did in front of the Standing Committee.”

  I paused.

  I opened my mouth to assure her that I would be supportive of her, even if her light shone brighter than mine did. My mouth moved, but words didn’t follow.

  Laila’s eyes glistened. Her hand rolled into loose fists. Her eyes dropped to the floor, but when she raised them again, they were as hard as concrete.

  “Lai – ” I reached out for her.

  “It’s okay,” she said, moving out of my reach. “Everything is crystal clear. It doesn’t matter how much we try, we’ll never be anything more than we are right now. And that’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” I muttered.

  “It has to be,” she replied. “You have no idea how much success means to me, Ryder. Failure is not an option. I’m doing this for my Papa, for my mother who I barely knew.” She picked up her bag and slung it over her back. “In the end, us not being together is okay, because I have to win and it’s not possible for me to win with you.”

  Her eyes glistened, and she swiped at them before walking away.

  Chapter Seven

  Laila

  ‘Supermodel’

  A week later, I stood on the sidewalk peering up at the powerful Hamilton Associates emblem perched on the front of the building and drew in a deep, anxious breath. This was it, I thought. This was what I had dreamed of. I had completed all of my coursework and was about to embark on a journey that could determine the fate of my career path. From the time I’d been accepted into Johnson and Wales Business School I’d made this internship my top priority. It was all I’d thought about. All I had aspired to. I didn’t have a Plan B. All of my proverbial eggs had been in the one Hamilton Associates basket.

  I pulled out my compact, blotted my nude lipstick and ran my finger over my eyebrows. Then I looked at my watch and marched towards the glass double-doors. Suddenly, a reaching hand grazed mine. My fingers curled back as a familiar, debilitating aroma arrested me.

  Cedarwood and vanilla.

  I ripped my hand away and the CEO stared into my face. His bright, light eyes twinkled, and his eyebrows drew in.

  “Miss Renaud.” Surprise registered on his chiseled features.

  “Mr. Hamilton,” I stuttered. I cleared my throat. “Good morning, sir.”

  “Yes, good morning.” He continued to stare me with that intensity. Or something else?

  Blood rushing into my cheeks made them burn. My name rolling off his tongue put me off kilter. One of his hands was still on the door and in the other, was a steaming cup of coffee. He startled and pushed the door open.

  “Please, allow me,” he urged pushing it open. His strong arm was poised above me, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his bicep bulged under the fabric of his shirt or the way his diamond-encrusted Patek Philippe watch glittered.

  “Thank you,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat.

  “Don’t mention it. We don’t require most employees to be in the office before 8:00 in the morning, let alone interns on their first day. Please don’t tell me Mr. Carter told you to come this early. It’s 7:30.”

  My skin was on fire. The last thing I needed to do was sweat my perm out in front of this man. “No sir, it was entirely my idea. I wanted to come in early and get a head start. I’m extremely excited and maybe a little overzealous.” I paused. “If it’s going to be a problem, I can make sure to arrive on time tomorrow.”

  “No, not at all,” he said. “I just can’t think of the last time I had this kind of conversation with someone who worked for me.”

  We fell silent and just when it became unbearable, the CEO filled the pause.

  “Well, since you’re here so early, perhaps I should make it worth your while.” He smiled.

  I liquefied.

  “Come with me.”

  He headed off and my eyes, wide as saucers, darted about.

  Keep your head on, girl, I warned myself. Don’t act like a rookie.

  I adjusted a stubborn strand of hair and started after him. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been wearing a heather gray suit. This morning he was clad in a fine navy ensemble and his tie was checkered with burgundy and silver. On his feet was a pair of classic Salvatore Ferragamos and his hair was freshly cut, tapered at the sides, gelled on the top. Another whiff of his debilitating cologne fled up my nostrils and my eyes rolled back.

  His voice sliced into my reverie. “I normally come through a private entrance in the garage,” he said, surveying the surroundings as if making sure everything was in order, “but my secretary isn’t in yet and I needed this.” He held the cup high.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I said, catching myself. “My coffee pot was percolating two minutes after I’d awakened, but I suppose I’ll be needing another before the day is out.”

  “Most likely,” he assured me, grinning. “I don’t play with my interns. In fact, your project is already lined up and waiting for you. I hope you and Mr. Hanson
are ready to nose-dive into some serious work, starting today.”

  My shoulders fell back. “Most certainly,” I assured him. “I am confident that I will meet all of your expectations.”

  “So am I,” he replied, dropping his eyes into mine.

  My body twitched, and I fought the urge to tug at the non-existent collar of my sheath dress.

  “On paper you have met our expectations,” he clarified as the elevator door slid open. He stepped inside, severing the connection. “Your professors sing your praises. I have no doubt you will deliver. That’s why I had my secretary call you and offer you an internship position. I reviewed your resume and was convinced that we needed to have you here, along with Mr. Hanson. I – ” he cleared his throat, “we want to see what you’re working with.”

  My eyes fluttered. “In that case, I’ll be working my hardest to demonstrate.”

  A muscle in his jaw pulsed and he nodded. “And your speech that day was impressive. I felt like I was listening to a renowned orator.”

  “I never would’ve guessed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I shrugged. “You didn’t seem so moved when I finished. I guess I figured you’d heard it all before.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck as the elevator zipped upward. “I apologize,” he said. “Admittedly I was... taken aback by your presence. The big vision in the petite package caught me off guard.”

  We laughed, and then I noticed I was sweating.

  “I’m sorry, I got carried away. Don’t get me started on something that is important to me,” I warned him. “I could’ve gone on all day.”

  “But that’s what I want,” he said. “You and Hanson have identified a gap in services and if you can refine your plan and draft a proposal, our intention is to get that ball rolling.”

  “That would be amazing, Mr. Hamilton,” I said through a breath.

  “And who knows? If it’s feasible, I can see Hamilton Associates offering either one of you a full-time position at the company. And not entry-level. Ideas like what you have presented come with benefits.”

  Benefits. The word rang in my mind.

  “How about a personal tour of Hamilton Associates?” he asked rhetorically, slapping me with his sexy half-smile. “Consider it the first benefit of many.”

  The elevator door glided open and we stepped out. The next forty-five minutes were spent walking about the premises. Mr. Hamilton introduced me to his staff, as well as members of his esteemed Board. I listened intently as he took me from department to department, rattling off historical facts, giving me insight into his motivation and drive. I gazed at him feeling the pull of his passion. I wanted to take on the world. His energy was magnetic. He was inspirational.

  At 8:45, it was all over, and we were in the gallery, the place I’d been on the day of the shadow. “What did you think? Did I leave anything out?” He smiled.

  “I think you are amazing,” I said. My voice was breathy. I caught myself. “Everything, the vision, the way you manage the building is amazing. I have been so inspired this morning. I’m ready to get the day started.”

  He nodded, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m pleased to hear that.”

  His eyes were burning me, and I looked away, unable to handle their unbridled intensity.

  Suddenly, a shrill voice hollering through the hall made me jerk. “Dylan, sweetheart...”

  Mr. Hamilton snapped back as if someone had yanked him, and I ran my hand over my hair, taken aback by the animated presentation of the newcomer.

  A woman, who was clearly a supermodel, approached and pulled him by the tie, forcing him into a steamy kiss. She was flawless, and most likely graced the cover of some swimsuit magazine in the past. Her perky, tanned, augmented breasts, covered only by a smithereen of material, smashed against his chest.

  I stepped back to give them some space and the CEO pulled away from her, adjusting his tie back to its preferred position. “Emily, what the hell are you doing here?” he whispered through his teeth.

  “Don’t act like you’re surprised to see me here, Dylan,” the woman spat. “You’ve been ignoring my calls since last week. You should have been expecting me.” She picked something imaginary off his shoulder.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  I pulled out my cell phone, trying to distract myself from their personal conversation.

  “You hung up the other night and I haven’t heard from you since, despite my trying to contact you...”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because we had this conversation. I told you it wasn’t working and – ” The CEO’s eyes darted to mine and I peered back at my cell phone. Suddenly, I pushed it in my purse and started for another area where I could wait for Mr. Carter. I paused before easing my way around them, looking for the exit.

  “Miss Renaud, please wait,” he said holding up his palm.

  I froze, and the supermodel spun around.

  “Miss Renaud?” Our eyes connected, and her smile dropped. One of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows lifted. “Oh, I get it,” she whispered. Her eyes narrowed. “This is her.”

  My neck jerked. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh my God, Emily, don’t do this,” Mr. Hamilton muttered running his hands through his hair. “You should leave. Now.”

  The woman jerked away from him and flicked her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. She turned to face him. “I am not leaving, Dylan. I knew there had to be some reason for your sudden insanity. So this is the whore that’s got you thinking the grass is greener on the other side. Really, Dylan? She’s not even in your class. She’s an intern, for Christ’s sake.”

  Mr. Hamilton stepped in front of her, obstructing our view of one another. “Miss Renaud, I sincerely apologize.”

  “Apologize?” the woman seethed, placing her hands on narrow hips. “If you should be apologizing to anyone, it should be me.”

  He ignored her as best he could, and his eyes softened. “Please head over to the reception area. Mr. Carter will be there to greet you presently. I’ll handle this.”

  The rise and fall of my chest was visible as my eyes fluttered.

  He stared at me, his eyes apologizing for the awkward scene.

  I swallowed and nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll make my way over.” I pulled my eyes from him and turned to walk away, trying to still my racing heart.

  Chapter Eight

  Laila

  ‘History’

  My mind spun as I walked, as confidently as I could, back to the main reception area. Behind me, I could hear the woman arguing with the CEO about something that allegedly involved me, yet I couldn’t figure out what she might be talking about. Apparently, neither could Mr. Hamilton.

  I tried to refocus my energy and prepare myself for the day, but when I saw Ryder sitting in the lobby reading a newspaper, my chest tightened. Our eyes connected, and thoughts of the weekend passed through my mind. The last thing I needed was bad energy on my first day, but it was already too late. The encounter with the supermodel had done a fine job of coloring the day.

  I drew in a breath and sat next to Ryder in the reception. I stalled, but then decided to address him. “Good morning.”

  He glanced at me and then returned his gaze to the newspaper in his hands. “Good morning.”

  We sat in silence for a few more seconds.

  I opened my mouth again. “This is not the time or the place to discuss last weekend, but – ”

  “Then feel free to leave it alone,” he snapped looking me square in the face. “You made your point last week and there’s no need for you to elaborate on it.”

  “Ryder...”

  He folded the paper and turned around to face me head on.

  I lifted my chin in an attempt to appear confident.

  “Laila, I said to drop it.” He glared at me. Anguish shimmered in his eyes and I looked away.

  Soon, Mr. Carter appeared
, and Ryder gathered to his feet. I stood awkwardly to match the two men. Tugging at the hem of my dress, I dashed a smile on my face.

  “Good morning,” Mr. Carter sang, rubbing his brawny hands together. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  “No, not at all,” Ryder assured him. “Miss Renaud and I haven’t seen each other for a while and we were just catching up.”

  Carter smiled. “Well, I hope the two of you have had a good breakfast and are ready to work. We have some things that we want you to work on immediately.” He started to walk and we both fell in step, listening as he rattled off the details of our assignment.

  “We want to delve deeper into Mr. Hanson’s proposal,” Carter was saying as we entered his office. He dropped into a chair behind his mammoth desk and I cringed at the connection he’d made between Ryder and my idea. It didn’t matter now, I thought, trying to regulate my emotions. I was here and all I needed to do was perform.

  Carter gestured to two empty armchairs and without hesitation, Ryder selected one and crossed his legs at the knee, displaying trendy business socks.

  Carter turned to look at me. “You were spot on with your remarks during the shadow, Miss Renaud. We live and do business in a different era now and it is incumbent upon us to meet the needs of companies during this revolutionary time. What are your immediate thoughts?”

  I leaned forward. “Whenever I consider a new project or vision, I find it helpful to answer the five W’s and the H.”

  Ryder mumbled under his breath and swept his hand across his nape.

  I glared at him.

  “Do explain, Miss Renaud,” Carter urged me.

  “To develop a comprehensive strategy, one needs to know the who, what, when, where, and why. The H, or the how, is the meat and potatoes of it all, but typically, I find if you can sufficiently answer each of those questions, you’ll have a robust strategy.”

  Carter’s hands steepled in front of his face and he leaned back.