by Dani Wade
“We won’t do it,” Robert insisted. “After thirty years as a designer, I refuse to have my ideas approved by an amateur.”
“Then I’ll bring in someone who will.”
Harsh. But he knew from his own history that sometimes the hardest lessons were the most memorable...if you used them to your advantage. Just like he’d turned his father’s rejection into professional success.
Moving swiftly across the space, Sloan lifted the entire stack of drawings and dumped them into a nearby trash can. “Start over.”
Ziara and Anthony gasped at the same time. But it was Robert he continued to focus on, the leader of this little group. Bring him to heel and the rest would follow.
Robert sputtered his indignation while Anthony’s face crumpled as if he was going to cry. How in the world could he get through to these yahoos?
Sloan didn’t anticipate Ziara’s sudden tight grip on his arm. She pulled him out of hearing range and turned to face him.
“Do you really think this is the way to gain their cooperation?”
He tried to focus on her words, but his own frustration quickly morphed into desire as she moved close enough for them to hear each other without eavesdroppers. All that solid, testosterone-induced drive melted into liquid desire that pounded in his veins with a thrumming rhythm. Lord have mercy, how had this woman gotten under his skin so quickly?
“I don’t need their cooperation. If they don’t do what I tell them, they’re out of here.”
A repressive frown marred those full lips. “Robert and Anthony have always been the stars of Eternity Designs. You should treat them with more respect.”
How could those lips, pressed tight like a disapproving schoolmarm’s, still come across as sexy? He was actually struggling to follow her words. Him. The king of keeping things professional.
“Don’t you see, Ziara, that’s the problem,” he finally managed. “They’ve had people kissing their asses for years, with no challenges to their work. They think they can give a minimal effort and still be put on a pedestal. And Eternity suffers for it.”
“They do work—”
He could almost kiss her for the concern in the dark depths of her eyes but it was misplaced. “Not enough. Where’s the market research, the fresh, new ideas? They don’t just happen by playing around all day. Continued success takes more effort.”
Understanding made a reluctant appearance in her gorgeous brown eyes. For some reason it made all the difference in the world to him. “I know I sound harsh. But they’re grown men who’ve been catered to for years. A polite request isn’t going to even make a dent.” Reaching out, he brushed his thumb along the softened curve of her jaw. “I do have a method behind my madness, I promise.”
The feel of her silky skin beneath his touch was magic, along with the warmth and subtle catch of her breath. They both froze in surprise for a moment. It was all Sloan could do to resist brushing his lips over the same spot.
Whoa. This was the design floor, not a nightclub...not even the privacy of his office. And judging by the utter silence laced with antagonism behind his back, Sloan knew Robert wouldn’t hesitate to throw around accusations of sexual misconduct. With Ziara’s approval or without it.
He took a careful step back, letting his hand drop to his side. “Just remember something—I wouldn’t be here if they’d been doing their jobs right in the first place. Okay?”
Her nod was firm, though her eyes were still a little dazed.
This meeting needed to get back on track. “Ziara,” he snapped, but with a little less bite than he’d used on the men. “The tablet, please.”
She hurried to obey, giving him a moment to regain his focus before turning back to the others. When she handed over the device, he noticed the care she took not to touch him again. After a moment of tapping on the smooth surface, he paused, looking up at the group around him.
“Current trends favor retro designs, new twists on the old, avant-garde as well as classic.” During his recent research, he’d seen some unique retro looks in the fashion and wedding magazines, and they had sparked his own creative imagination.
“In less than three months, I’ll be showcasing our newest designs during a professional fashion show. We’re going to bring fashion week right here to Atlanta. It’ll be an exclusive, invitation-only event that I want people talking about for months.”
As Sloan continued to explain the fall show, excitement crept over the anger that had tightened the designers’ faces. He might have punctured their egos earlier, but now he was tempting them.
Lifting the tablet, he turned it around to face them. “Every event needs a theme, a focal point. This is ours.”
“A car? Are you insane?” Robert yelled, returning to his angry disbelief.
“Not just any car, a Rolls-Royce. A classic car epitomizing the elegance, sleek design and subtle sensuality of the late 1930s. An era where women flaunted sexy curves, draped their bodies with fabrics that showcased their femininity, and set out to entice the opposite sex. Think of the actresses of the time—Marlene Dietrich, Mae West, Vivian Leigh. The dresses they wore—the draped material, exposed backs...”
He caught a glimmer of understanding in Ziara’s eyes. Knowledge of where he was going with this idea.
“Ridiculous,” Robert insisted. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve heard in my lifetime.”
Sloan wasn’t backing down. “We’re going to do this and do it right. Get on board, or jump overboard. Your choice.”
* * *
When had work started feeling like a taffy puller?
Ziara waited until Sloan left the building for lunch before heading to Vivian’s office. Her stomach cramped, knowing Vivian would have already heard about the upcoming show, but also knowing she couldn’t blatantly walk out of Sloan’s office straight to his stepmother’s.
Observing Sloan for two days had taught her one thing already—he wasn’t playing. His knowledge this morning showed he had done his homework on the market, design, themes, even fashion shows. He’d been calm but firm, occasionally harsh, with Robert and Anthony. Stepping solidly into a leadership role, even if he had to do it by force.
Most disturbing of all, his ideas for the show intrigued her.
With some organization, this could be an incredibly successful event, one the upper classes of Atlanta society would flock to in droves. Eternity Designs would be on the tip of everyone’s tongues and the front page in the society section. Notable brides would once again be drawn to the showroom for one-of-a-kind dresses.
But to her shame, Sloan’s appeal continued to taunt her on a more physical level. Vivian had insisted she was the last woman who would be tempted by Sloan’s charm, but the need that had crawled into her body at his singular touch frightened her. She’d seen her mother move from man to man, taking whatever they could give her, using her body to manipulate them. Mixing business with pleasure was the last thing Ziara wanted in her life. The level of temptation here actually scared her bone deep.
Abigail gave her a sympathetic look as she entered the room. “She’s waiting on you, Ziara.”
I bet she is. Her hand pausing on the doorknob, Ziara only let herself hesitate a second before going in.
“Ah, Ziara,” Vivian said from behind her antique desk. “I see you have finally deigned to bring me news.”
Vivian gestured for her to sit. The walk across the room distracted Ziara from the uneasiness caused by Vivian’s words. “I felt it appropriate to wait until Sloan left for lunch—”
“Why? He’s surely aware that one of your jobs is to keep me informed. Next time I want to hear it from you, rather than the office grapevine.”
Yes, but I couldn’t bring myself to rub my choices in his face. She’d probably heard from the Old Brigade, who’d run to Vivian to tattle the minute they’
d realized they were losing control.
Ziara wondered if they remembered Vivian had once been a mere secretary—and how long it had taken them to accept the new order of things when she took over. Given the evidence from this morning, Ziara didn’t think acceptance had come quickly.
“I’m very excited about this new idea for the line’s presentation,” she started.
“Ah yes, the fashion show. I hate to admit it, but I’m seeing the merits of this plan myself. I want a full report.”
“I’ve just started working on the details. I’m looking into venues, modeling agencies and such.”
“Keep me informed as everything takes shape.”
Ziara murmured, “Yes, ma’am,” under her breath, but Vivian was already moving on.
“Make it good. Getting some choice buyers in here will make this the must-have ticket of the fall season. I’ll have Abigail get you a list of contacts, and I want to know as soon as the RSVPs come in.”
If Sloan was a train squishing her on the tracks, Vivian was a wrecking ball, destroying Ziara’s calm handling of this difficult assignment. Her mentor ran through a laundry list of items she wanted Ziara to check into, almost doubling the amount of work Sloan had given her. She saw quite a few late nights in her near future.
“Since you will be in the thick of all of this, Ziara—” Vivian’s spine straightened as if bracing herself for what was to come “—you should know...if our largest buyer pulls her orders, as she has threatened if the line doesn’t move in a more modern, unique direction, it will put the company in a very disadvantageous financial position.”
Even Vivian’s attempt at genteel diplomacy couldn’t hide the facts: Eternity Designs was in deep financial trouble. The confirmation of the actual problem had Ziara’s stomach dropping like it would on a roller coaster, a ride she avoided getting on at all costs.
Coming to work here, helping to build some of the finest dresses and dreams, had been like finding her true home. She wasn’t ready to leave.
Vivian’s fingers spun her wedding band in an endless circle. “So you can see how very important it is for the fall line to be not just good, but spectacular. By putting you in his office, I can let Sloan think he’s in charge until we see what he decides to do with the fall line.” Vivian’s heeled pump set up a twitchy rhythm. “I’ve known him for a long time. He’s sneaky, deceptive. His mother’s lower-class roots are showing, I guess.”
Ziara controlled the surprise that threatened to bloom on her face. Social standing had always been important to Vivian, but Ziara had never before seen evidence of prejudice.
“I know you said he was rebellious as a teenager.” Perfectly normal, in Ziara’s opinion. “Why would you think he’s up to something now?”
Being on the receiving end of Vivian’s glare wasn’t comfortable.
“Haven’t you ever heard that a leopard never changes its spots?” Vivian asked. “Besides, there are rumors that he uses some rather ruthless tactics to get his way these days.” Her pen tapped against her desk. One thump, then two. “He’s up to something,” she continued. “And I need to stay on top of it. You need to stay on top of it.”
Ziara wasn’t sure if the turmoil gaining ground in her gut was troubled conscience or the guilt of temptation, but she couldn’t simply ignore it. “Vivian, I really, well, I simply think that someone else might be more suited to working with Sl—Mr. Creighton. I could easily coordinate the show details from—”
“His office. That’s where I put you and that’s where you will stay. Or is there some reason you would request a change?”
The last thing Ziara wanted to do was explain the ins and outs of the past two days. If only she could make Vivian understand... “Honestly, I don’t feel very comfortable with the position I’m in. If you think Sloan will stop anything he’s doing because of me, well, he won’t. I just—”
Vivian’s head tilted slightly to the side, her brown eyes studying Ziara with sudden intensity. For the first time in a long time, Ziara wanted to hide from her boss, to squirrel away the reactions she had to Sloan just as she had the secrets of her past. Vivian would never accept her if she knew either one.
“Have I not done enough for you, Ziara?”
Not expecting the attack, Ziara found herself speechless.
“Have I not taught you all that I can about running this business, about behaving professionally, about coming out ahead of those not willing to put every ounce of effort into their jobs?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’ve been more than generous.”
“Then why do I suddenly feel like all of that effort has been wasted on the wrong person?”
Panic shot deep, mixing with the fear Ziara carried on a daily basis: that one day, everything she’d worked so hard for would crash down into a pile of rubble. She would not go back to being the uneducated girl condemned by everyone around her.
“I certainly don’t want you to feel that way,” Ziara said over the pounding of her heart. “I’m very grateful—
“I see plenty, Ziara,” Vivian snapped, her eyes as harsh as her tone. “And what I’m seeing isn’t gratitude, understand?”
Knowing she’d overstepped Vivian’s invisible limit, Ziara conceded quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ve worked very hard to get where you are, Ziara. That’s why I chose you to succeed Abigail as my executive assistant when she retires later this year.”
At the praise, a glow bloomed beneath her fear. She’d yearned to be recognized for her accomplishments for as long as she could remember. First at school, then at community college, from her first job till now. Though she hadn’t found validation at home, her move to Atlanta had been the start of a whole new life.
“I’m confident that you’ll do what’s best for Eternity Designs.” Vivian stood, her posture and classically tailored business suit a picture of authority. Ziara moved quickly to join her.
“This position, though difficult, will also be excellent training for you, and I don’t have to worry about the Creighton good looks turning your head like some of the less dedicated girls around here. Do I?”
Ziara realized the question was rhetorical, so she simply shook her head, keeping her growing doubts to herself. Oh, she had no intention of falling into bed with a man like Sloan Creighton. On the other hand, how did she keep his charm and obvious business smarts from influencing her away from what Vivian wanted?
Vivian moved on, unaware of Ziara’s fears. “By the time we come out of this, Eternity Designs will be set for the future. I’ll be in charge, and you’ll have that job as my E.A.”
Ziara shifted in her heels. “But what if he succeeds? How can you risk him gaining a majority’s ownership if you don’t trust him?”
Vivian turned away, her face hidden as she crossed to the window. “Don’t worry,” she said, twisting her wedding ring around her finger again. “I’ll take care of that.”
Knowing she’d been dismissed, Ziara retreated to the safety of the outer office, where Abigail waited with a kind smile and some lists.
“Thank you, Abigail.”
“No problem, sweetie. Just let me know if you have any questions.”
How about, Will I make it through this without losing my freakin’ mind? Or, Is everyone going to hate me before this show is over? But she said nothing, conscious for once of exactly how alone she was.
Walking through the doorway, she found Sloan leaning against her desk. Her stomach dropped to her toes and a flush suffused her cheeks. The guilt was probably glaring out from her downcast gaze and shifting feet.
Where was this guilt coming from? A shot of surprise jolted through her at the answer. The guilt didn’t stem from tattling like a four-year-old. That was the best thing for Eternity Designs...for now. She simply didn’t want to face him knowing she’d tried to get out of worki
ng with him. Her feet stuttered to stillness and she swallowed, praying her voice would work at this point. “May I help you with something, Mr. Creighton?”
Those bright blue eyes, so full of life earlier today, were now cold enough to freeze the devil himself in his tracks. His mouth crooked up on one side, his boyish good looks now brittle around the edges. Oh yeah, he knew what she was up to, and there was no defense against that knowledge.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
For some unknown reason, she couldn’t brush this moment aside with professionalism or tactful confusion. “I don’t know, either. You told me you understood my duties here.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Me, either.
Ziara struggled to return to that place where she was strictly a secretary performing an assigned task, but she couldn’t. Some kind of barrier had been breached with his touch earlier today, and she was very afraid there was no going back from it.
She had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t let her go back even if she tried. His next words confirmed her suspicions. “Too bad I can’t give you what you really deserve.”
“And what would that be?” she asked, though the naughty mischief melting the iceberg should have warned her she’d moved into dangerous territory.
“A spanking.”
Four
The next few days went by relatively smoothly as Ziara discovered the ins and outs of working for Sloan Creighton.
He liked his coffee black with just a touch of sugar for sweetness, but he only drank it in the morning. After eleven, he switched to Mountain Dew. He came into the office around nine-thirty every morning, smelling of citrus and a spicy undertone after his daily game of racquetball. He paced while he dictated letters, his long legs performing for her benefit alone. While dreaming up new show ideas, he liked to lean back in his chair with his Gucci-clad feet propped on the edge of the desk.
She often caught a glimpse of him standing at those floor-to-ceiling windows watching people walk by five stories below, deep enough in thought that she’d close the door behind her with extra force to remind him of her presence.