by Lynda Aicher
Her annoyance doubled down to trigger her resentment. Her mother would crow with delight if she knew who Brie was having dinner with—and then she’d start maneuvering to see how extensive his connections were, and if they could benefit her.
Brie switched her phone to silent and tucked it back in her bag.
“Is everything okay?” Ryan asked. Concern drew his brows together, which loosened her own.
“Yes.” She forced a small smile as reassurance. “It was just my mother.”
His chin lowered slightly, eyes narrowing. “Does she text you a lot?”
Her harsh bark of laughter contained a heavy amount of the bitterness still churning in her stomach. “Yeah,” she finally said, her tone saying more than she’d intended.
His low humph was at odds with the speculation that darkened his eyes before his frown eased.
Brie took a long, steadying breath and hunted for a conversation topic far away from her mother as Ryan went through the motions of approving the wine.
“Can I ask you something?” she dared after their wine was poured. She hummed her appreciation for the Syrah he supposedly didn’t care about. Even so, his taste was drastically better than Lori’s when it came to wine.
He lowered his glass, caution emanating from him. “Sure. I can’t promise I’ll answer.”
“Of course not.” Her laugh blended with her sigh. She took another sip of her wine, eyeing him over the glass. Was it possible to truly understand what made him tick? Would he let anyone get that close? “Why Carla?” she finally asked.
“Why not Carla?” he returned without a blink.
She barely held back another groan. She dropped her head back instead, amused and annoyed, but a smile held when she looked to him. That reflex to deflect and debate was just...him.
“Well...” How did she word this without sounding bitchy? “She’s not who I would have imagined as your ideal assistant.”
It was really none of her business, but after weeks of working with both of them, she couldn’t figure out why he kept her when he could succinctly cut down an associate when his standards weren’t met.
“She does her best.” He took a drink of his wine, his hold on the stem appearing delicate beneath his fingers.
Brie cocked a brow. “And her best is good enough for you?”
“It is.” That was it. His expression gave away nothing. She’d learned to read it, though. This was the clear FU-and-I-dare-you-to-call-me-on-it look.
“All right,” she said, backing off. “She’s nice.”
He gave a single nod that didn’t expand on his thoughts at all. No surprise there. Yet she couldn’t help wondering why Carla’s best was okay when he was so hard on others.
“Carla is the sole guardian of her four grandchildren,” Ryan said without preamble or emotion. He dipped his head, the hard line of his mouth softening. “And she has a good heart,” he added. “In this field, it’s nice to be reminded that not everyone is out simply to get ahead.”
A rush of tenderness spread through her chest as she added compassionate to her list of Ryan descriptors.
Their dinner arrived, and Brie let the topic slide. The food smelled wonderful. She sucked in a long breath, savoring the aromas. The apparently simple dish held hints of unexpected flavors so like the man sitting across from her.
Evening had settled into night when they returned to his car. Their conversation had returned to work through their meal, and a part of her was happy about that. The other part, the sluggish, mellow, probably-shouldn’t-have-had-that-last-glass-of-wine one, was sad. He’d never answered her question about what he liked to do outside of work.
Did he have any hobbies? Friends?
She studied him as he drove back to their office. His car was luxury defined. She wasn’t surprised by that. It was all part of the expected partner image. Just like the tailored suits, silk ties and perfect hair. And he wore the look beautifully.
But that wasn’t the only side of him. Did Ryan only make appearances in the Boardroom? Did he trust anyone with his secrets? His dreams?
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked without preamble.
His gaze jerked to her, brows drawn, but she didn’t look away from his icy glare. Maybe it was the wine or simple apathy, but she wasn’t intimidated by him.
He refocused on the road. His jaw flexed. “No.”
A soft, knowing smile spread over her lips. “Why not?” She shifted in her seat to see him better.
The little jump in his jaw went off again. Her smile grew.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” His counterattack happened right on cue. His words were clipped with impatience, and there was that cinched-lip thing he did.
Her low laugh had his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. Poking at him was fun. “No,” she answered when her laughter died out. “I wouldn’t have gone to the Boardroom if I had.”
His focus stayed on the road, which gave her the freedom to admire his profile. The clean-shaven look rarely disappeared on him. Would there be stubble in the morning? Did he have hair on his chest? A treasure trail?
She cursed the blindfold for all that it’d hidden. But she never would’ve gone to the Boardroom without it.
“Why did you?” he asked, startling her. “Go to the Boardroom?”
She should’ve anticipated that question given his excellent interrogation skills. Her smile spread once again. The expected shame or embarrassment didn’t flood her this time. No, there was only a casual awareness of why she shouldn’t answer him. Of why this entire conversation was dangerous.
She couldn’t seem to care. Not right now.
“Freedom,” she finally said, voice soft. “Defiance. Desire. Curiosity.” The pure exhaustion of always doing what was expected of her. “Rebellion.” She added the last with a coarse scoff.
His brow flicked up at that, but he didn’t look at her.
“Why did you?” she asked. Turnabout was fair play. “Join the Boardroom?”
His lip quirked, his shoulders relaxing as he loosened his hold on the steering wheel. “For the sex.”
She waited a beat for more. Her burst of laughter broke free when nothing came. “Of course.”
He shrugged, sending a sly glance her way. There was a solid smirk on his lips now. Even that looked good on him. What didn’t?
“Why else?” She wasn’t letting him get off that easily.
“Why does there have to be another reason?”
“Because you can get sex anywhere.” Especially a guy as good-looking and successful as him.
“Can you? Truly?” He came to a stop at a light and looked over. There was honest question in his expression, and she braced for the coming debate, that stupid smile of hers still slapped in place. “Without fear or risk of attachment and consequences?”
“And the Boardroom offers all of that? Really?” She doubted it. Nothing was a hundred percent risk-free.
The light changed, and he refocused on the road. “As close as anyone can get.”
She had no comeback for that. She wouldn’t have gone herself if she hadn’t been guaranteed those things. “It’s just the sex then. Nothing else?”
“Wakeford.” The warning in his voice was lost in the hushed chuckle that followed. He shook his head, a smile breaking free. “You’re trying to torture me, right?”
Her eyes sprung wide. “No. Not really.” But it was definitely fun. “I’m just curious.”
The quiet confines of the car seemed to insulate them from the rest of the world. This was just between them. Safe. She had no quantifiable proof of that, but it embraced her nonetheless.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I could say the same about you,” she countered. “Now answer my question.”
He let out a frustrated growl that sent a rush of goose bumps
down her neck and arms. Her nipples tightened, adding to the sudden flash of heat. Impressions of the Boardroom flew into her mind in the next breath. That same sound. His passionate touch, firm hold.
She swallowed.
He shoved his fingers through his hair, holding the short strands before he let his hand fall back to the steering wheel. An odd shot of resignation laced his tone when he answered. “Because it is a risk,” he practically snarled. He pierced her with a quick dagger-eye that clearly warned her to drop it.
Yeah, no. “And that excites you.” It had for her. The risk had been part of the draw.
His deep inhalation lifted his chest. “Why are you pushing this?”
She shrugged. “Just curious.”
His sarcastic huff of annoyance only drove her more. Her line of questioning was getting to him, and she found that fascinating. Nothing broke through his collected shell.
But this conversation had.
A calm reserve settled over him in a wave of controlled movements. His chin ticked up, shoulders settling as he drew them back. One of his hands shifted down the steering wheel to grip it lightly from the bottom. The air of frustration was wiped away with a slow breath and long exhale.
And just like that, Ryan was gone—or the small glimpse she’d gotten of him was. Sadness wove its way in to pluck at the tender barrier around her heart. Was he afraid? Who had hurt him so badly that he couldn’t let his guard down—ever?
Except in the Boardroom.
“Have you gone back?” she asked into the quiet. The road noise was nonexistent in the luxury soundproofing. The black interior added another level to the dark hush that bled into the leather seats and silver accents. Her pulse was steady, nerves silent as she softly added, “Since...me?”
Chapter Nineteen
Ryan whipped the car into the parking garage entrance. He came to an abrupt stop before the gate, his jaw clamped beyond tight when he swiped his badge before the card reader. His pulse thrummed with the resentment and annoyance—and fear—boiling in his veins.
He hit the accelerator the second the flimsy wooden arm rose. His tires squealed around the turns as they plunged into the gray depths of the garage.
Had she really asked that? Since me?
A large majority of the parking spots were empty with the flight of the nine-to-five crowd. He gripped the steering wheel, slowing as a car eased past them on its way out. The steam simmering within him worked its way out to cover his skin in a clammy sweat that had his shirt clinging to his back.
Brie was pushing. Hard.
For what?
His mind raced to the most unlikely yet probable reason. She wanted to go back to the Boardroom. And what the hell was he supposed to do? Ignore her? Answer? Shove her firmly back into Ms. Wakeford status?
He pulled into his reserved parking space, slammed on the brakes, shoved the gearshift into Park before twisting in his seat to nail her with a hard stare. Her quick inhalation cut through the air. Her eyes widened as she met his intensity head-on. No flinching. No backing down.
“What are you getting at?” He waited a beat. “Brie.”
Her nostrils flared slightly, her lower lip curling in. “It was just a question.”
“Wrong. It was more than that.” Way more.
“Was it?”
She actually had the nerve to quirk a brow. At him. When he was ready to...
He bit back the thought before it could form. It’d do no good, however it ended. He burned now. Raged. It coiled in his chest and gnawed at his gut with a fierceness he didn’t recognize.
His emotions never got to this level.
Ever.
Even that cold empty space in his chest was filled with heat.
He leaned in, refusing to be bested. “Then tell me. Would you go back?” Her brow lowered, and a hitch of victory laced through his anger. “To the Boardroom?”
Her eyes darkened in incremental shifts that he shouldn’t notice. Shouldn’t.
“Answer my question first.” Her voice was hushed, yet it seemed to scream through the tension. Her steely resolve was layered into her steady stare and tugged on that damn admiration he continued to pile on her.
Admiration. Right. That’s all it was.
His response wavered on the thin edge of charge or fall back. Her lips were, God, just inches away. She’d edged forward as their standoff dug in. So had he.
“No.” His admission snapped out on a flat note. No. He’d had zero desire to go back. Not even to get her out of his thoughts.
And he wasn’t analyzing that.
He caught her swallow in his peripheral vision. There was no way he was tearing his eyes from hers. None. Her pupils grew bigger, the blue richer until the thought of basic blue was gone.
“With you,” she whispered.
It took a moment for her admission to sink in. With you. Understanding slammed in with a punch to his restraint. With you.
A vision of her splayed on a table, engulfed in passion, eyes locked on him, burst into his mind with ease. The burn of want sunk to his groin to free the desire he’d been incapable of quenching. Not when it came to Brie.
He worked to keep his careening thoughts from showing, but he honestly had no clue if it worked. “Is that an invitation?”
She bit her lip, let it slide out. “Would you accept?”
Would wasn’t in question. “I don’t think would is the right word.” Should, though? That screamed at him in an attempt to hammer home the answer—which he couldn’t decipher.
“We know the answer to should.” Her lids lowered. A hint of a smile lifted her lips. “That’s unrelated to would.”
He could’ve debated that. His rebuttal was already formed before it slid away. Here, in this secluded cocoon away from the world and work and every possible consequence, he had only one answer. “Yes.”
Her eyes closed on a soft fall, cutting off the want that’d burned in them. He sucked in a breath. It got lodged in his chest when he tried to expel it, tried to resist the desire hauling him closer—to her.
It didn’t work.
His lips found hers on a crush of yes. Fuck. Finally.
Her low moan cried of indecision, of longing and that same, anguished finally.
A burst of echoing voices penetrated the car with a slap of harsh awareness. He sat back, cursed. He tensed, gaze locking on the three women as they crossed the garage to a minivan parked down the row. He didn’t recognize them.
He scanned past the empty parking spots to the glass doors that led to the elevator foyer. The threat prickled over his nape and struck up a beat in his chest.
They could’ve been caught.
And then what?
He looked to Brie. That same awareness blazed back at him.
Of the danger. The risk. The want that shouldn’t be there.
He eased back until he was fully in his space, not crossing the center or intruding on hers. Yet his desire still raged. It clawed at his restraint and shoved his entrenched calculation to the side. This wasn’t logical—whatever it was.
Neither was his intent.
His tongue slicked over his lips, the imagined remnants of her taste swarming inside his mouth. He slid his phone out of his pocket and opened the Boardroom app. Each click dismissed every reason for why this was wrong. Why he should stop.
There. He glanced at the time.
“Tell me no, Brie.” He didn’t lift his gaze from the Active Scene screen. A knot twisted in his stomach and fought against the compulsion driving him forward.
He waited.
Her breath hitched. “I don’t want to.”
Her whispered admission was his undoing. Hell.
He scanned the list, found one that fit. He added their names to the players, along with their limits. His thumb hovered over the Add button
. This wasn’t smart.
He turned to Brie. She watched him with those big eyes of hers. There was little hint of her thoughts displayed on her face. Was her pulse racing like his? Did she ache for his touch? Would she cry out when he drove into her? Toss her head back and dig her nails into his shoulders?
Was this a wild dive into tragedy? Was he consciously throwing away everything he’d worked for? For one more night of sex?
Her single slow nod finished his irrational descent.
He let his thumb fall, the scene reposting to the active board.
He turned off his phone screen. “You can change your mind at any time.”
“Okay.”
That was it.
His chuckle was empty and dry. What was he doing? He honestly couldn’t remember if he’d ever gone into something without knowing precisely why he was doing it. The only answer he had now was the unrelenting need to feel her again. To have that passion focused on him, surrounding him, pulling him in until he felt nothing but her.
Felt her.
He thrust the car into Reverse and backed out of his spot on that enlightening thought. He hit the brakes, her gaze meeting his when he glanced over. Her emotions were locked down behind that professional mask he usually appreciated but now despised.
No. This was good.
The Boardroom was not connected to work. It had boundaries, rules and limitations. And she’d agreed to each one.
He took a breath, locking his own flailing emotions behind the wall of correctness. He looked back to her. That same fucking wall was erected around her, and he wanted nothing more than to kick it down.
And he would. Soon.
“Do your rules still stand?”
Her brows dipped, lifted. “I’ll let you know.” She looked away, chin raised, back straight. Her fingers were laced on her lap, feet crossed at the ankles, the hem of her skirt rising just above her knees in a prim facade that brought a crazy-assed smile to his face.
He was so fucked—and she could never know exactly how much.
Chapter Twenty