Matters of Heart

by Yolande Kleinn

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Book Details

  Dedication

  Matters of Heart

  About the Author

  Matters

  OF

  Heart

  YOLANDE KLEINN

  Marco Spinelli has made Spinelli Medical Technologies an international power house; but there's no way he could have done it without Adam Callaghan, his best friend and resident entrepreneurial genius. Together they've spent years making their dream a reality.

  Marco can't imagine life without Adam at his side, exactly like this—until a gala and an unexpected encounter make him realize he wants something more. Now he must repair a rift he never intended to cause, before he loses Adam for good.

  Matters of Heart

  By Yolande Kleinn

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Nicole Field

  Cover designed by Natasha Snow

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition September 2017

  Copyright © 2017 by Yolande Kleinn

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781684310999

  For Beth, determined cheerleader and perpetual delight

  Matters

  OF

  Heart

  He thought he knew what to expect when he stepped through the double doors, but Marco still nearly tripped at the sight of Conference Hall Three completely transformed.

  The room took up more than half the second floor of the downtown office, and it was something of a spectacle even on a normal day: more like a grand ballroom than a business venue. A tall, sprawling, ridiculous arena, it did have its uses—especially to a corporation expanding as quickly as Spinelli Medical Technologies.

  Tonight the space was barely recognizable, with shimmering fabric concealing the walls and glittering lights woven throughout. White table cloths, gauzy archways over the doors, a couple of chandeliers Marco had never seen before. He eased in among the crowd, fashionably late to his own party. If Adam gave him any grief, he would just claim the tuxedo had given him trouble. A blatant and transparent lie, but one his business partner couldn't call him out on. Even better, the excuse would let Marco off the hook for the cummerbund he'd left at home on the foot of the bed; he loved being an accidental genius.

  He would have preferred one of his usual suits, but a shindig of this caliber didn't allow for a simple suit and tie, even—especially—from the camera-shy inventor who owned half the company.

  There was a reason Adam Callaghan, SMT's graceful and charming CEO, was the star when it came to events like this. He was good with public image. He knew how to seem affable despite the opaque mask he wore for the cameras. It was an ease Marco envied—he'd never quite mastered that level of control. Hell, Adam prided himself on being unreadable: twenty years of friendship, and he still bragged about his ability to best Marco at poker every time they played.

  Adam shone in a setting like this. It was always remarkable to behold.

  Marco was a different story, and he was well aware of his own shortcomings. Adam had admonished him to avoid any impromptu interviews tonight, but the warning was unnecessary. Marco hated the spotlight. Nerves did a number on any natural eloquence he might have possessed, sent his brain and his tongue scrambling off script. Better to let his best friend and business partner manage the media circus. It was a division of labor that worked well for them, and Marco secretly relished the protective way Adam shielded him from the press, an early habit of their partnership that had only grown more determined in the years since.

  But Marco couldn't very well skip an event like this. He needed to make a good impression. At minimum, he had to show up and look good. That much, at least, he should be able to handle.

  It was a swanky party, well-dressed waitstaff navigating smoothly amid a forest of sleek evening gowns and stiff tuxedos. It felt more like a gala than a press conference. There were dozens of hands to shake, smiles to exchange, faces to pretend he recognized as he navigated the room. He moved farther through the crowd, greeting dozens of guests along the way. He was heading toward the stage with purpose, but no particular hurry. Dale Parson from the Board of Directors was giving a dry speech, clinging to the podium like it was his birthright. Marco tuned out the words—he'd skimmed all the proposed speeches more than a week ago—and accepted a flute of champagne from a passing server.

  His eyes searched as he moved, vigilant for the main reason he'd been looking forward to this overblown event.

  There. By the stage, holding a glass of red wine and actually listening to the speech. Katherine stood near enough a cluster of other reporters to look sociable, but just enough apart to smoothly disengage from them when she saw Marco approaching.

  "Man of the hour," she murmured, tucking a curly strand of dark hair behind one ear. "Late as usual. Tell me, on the record, what's it like having a business partner who doesn't make you work?"

  "I work plenty." Marco kept a serious expression on his face, one that wouldn't fool her for an instant. Katherine knew him too well. Even if she didn't, she wasn't the kind of journalist to be easily duped. "And you know I only come to these things for the canapés."

  He took in the sight of her, trying to be subtle about the appreciative sweep of his eyes. She was a tall woman—nearly as tall as him in her ludicrous heels—so there was plenty to appreciate.

  Her smile widened eloquently. So much for subtle. At least her expression held more fondness than exasperation. There was a flash of heat, too, a wordless understanding passing between them. He'd known Katherine would be attending tonight's event, and he was carrying a condom in the pocket of his tux. Casual as their acquaintance was in all other regards, Marco was confident she would agree enthusiastically to his proposal. It wouldn't be their first off-the-clock encounter, nor was it likely to be their last.

  Marco dropped the unconvincing veneer of solemnity—he'd never been good at feigning seriousness—and grinned in return. He settled beside her and tasted his drink. It was sweet, and as violently bubbly as it looked, and he immediately took a second sip.

  "How was Madrid?" he asked her, pretending to pay attention to Parson's speech.

  "Eventful," Katherine answered blandly. The evasion meant that whatever she'd been covering, he would have to read it in the paper like everyone else. Marco didn't push.

  His gaze shifted, roaming the crowd again. He knew Adam would be waiting for his cue behind the stage's heavy curtains, but Marco couldn't help looking for him anyway. Even out of sight, his partner's presence was an instinctive draw on Marco's attention—he never did need much prompting to seek Adam out.

  His searching didn't go unnoticed. A moment of inadvertent eye contact, and one of the reporters clustered nearby broke from the group and approached him. The man wore a hopeful expression, obviously taking Marco's passing glance as an invitation to converse. He was skinny, balding, friendly looking.

  He shook Marco's hand. "Mr. Spinelli, I'd love to interview you Monday, if you've got a few minutes to spare."

  "My partner usually handles the press releases," Marco countered smoothly, not bothering to be annoyed at the interruption or the request. The entire point of this circus was to impress the media, after all.

  "Oh, we've already scheduled an interview with Adam Callaghan." The man released Marco's hand. "We want a few words with the brain behind the new technology."
>
  Marco smiled his best professional smile. "You don't even know what the new technology is yet."

  The man laughed too loudly. "When have you ever let us down, Mr. Spinelli? Truly, if you have any time on Monday..." He handed over a business card, and Marco made a point of glancing at the front before pocketing it.

  "I'll see what I can do." He meant it sincerely.

  Adam generally tried to minimize Marco's direct contact with the press, but he would probably approve if it meant adding a little extra flare to the coverage of tonight's unveiling.

  When the reporter disappeared back into the crowd, Marco turned and found Katherine watching him, a spark of genuine amusement lighting her eyes.

  "What?"

  "I hope you'll stay on topic if you schedule that interview." Her mouth quirked at one corner.

  "I'm always on topic," he lied.

  "Darling, you are a train wreck. The first time you sat for an interview with me, you derailed us for twenty minutes talking about the implications of improved biopsy procedures. You were supposed to be discussing your corporation's charitable works."

  "I'd just made a major breakthrough," Marco protested. "Besides, I was trying to impress you."

  "Oh, you impressed me." Her smile held amused warmth, all the intimacy of a years-long friendship that crossed occasionally into more. "But you're a terrible interview subject. I'll take Adam instead, thanks."

  A polite burst of applause broke across the crowd as, on stage, Parson finally ended his speech. After barely a pause, he began what Marco knew would be a lengthy introduction of Spinelli Medical Tech's accomplished CEO. Marco could picture Adam waiting impatiently in the wings, standing behind one of the massive blue curtains that flanked either side of the stage.

  He didn't need to pay attention to this part, either. He knew Adam Callaghan's professional biography nearly as well as his own. It was Adam whose business instincts had shaped this company, and it was Adam who always had Marco's back. Dale Parson's introduction wasn't apt to hold any surprises.

  "Do you have plans later?" Marco asked quietly, the words only for Katherine's ears.

  "You mean besides work?" she retorted, because of course she would need to write an article following up on the dramatic unveiling of the company's newest technology. "Nope. No plans. Why?"

  Marco smiled—not his professional smile, but his genuine smile—the one some people found terrifying and Adam described as unnervingly shark-like. "We just finished renovating the entire top floor. I was hoping to show you my new office. If you're interested."

  His words were a barely coded invitation, transparent but also simple to decline. This was how Marco played the game, not just with Katherine but with the handful of other intimate acquaintances he entertained. A mutual and easy understanding, crafted of chemistry and convenience, carrying zero expectations.

  "Oh, I'm interested," Katherine answered with a smile. Then she fell quiet as the hall erupted in fresh applause, this time deafeningly enthusiastic. On stage, Parson made his departure, ceding the spotlight to Adam Callaghan, the man everyone actually wanted to hear. Throughout the room, the other lights fell dim, leaving only the bright spots aimed directly at the stage.

  Adam adjusted the microphone height—he was several inches shorter than Parson—and said, "Good evening, everyone. Thank you for being here tonight."

  Marco didn't need to listen to the words to appreciate Adam's skill at the podium. Adam knew exactly how to work a crowd, how to stand in front of people—whether a table full of investors or an arena full of reporters—and create a perfect reality around them. He took the innovations from Marco's head and convinced the world it needed them. He was the most persuasive man Marco had ever known.

  And he was in rare form tonight. He hadn't yet tugged the drapery off of the prototype imaging scanner beside him, but somehow, he already held the room in thrall. A heady current of expectation filled the space all the way to the high ceiling. It was impressive to behold. Marco's chest warmed with pleasure, the way it always did when he watched Adam work. There was something fiercely satisfying about seeing a crowd of strangers share his admiration.

  For a moment, he let himself enjoy both the spectacle and the view. Adam was always good looking, but he was especially handsome tonight. Compact behind the microphone, comfortable in the perfectly fitted tuxedo, his elegant hands curled loosely around the edges of the podium. His hair—brown and thick, the one aspect of his appearance about which Adam was truly vain—looked like the wind had blown it into some miraculous and impossible perfection. Marco had to swallow a chuckle at the thought of just how long it must have taken to achieve that effect. Longer than Marco had spent in combat with his bow tie, surely.

  Marco felt downright indulgent as he allowed himself to appreciate the sight. Look but don't touch: it was a motto he had learned to live by. Being best friends and business partners didn't leave room for much else, even if Adam were interested.

  Adam wasn't interested. Marco had spent enough time watching him to be sure. He'd never caught Adam watching him in return.

  Never mind Adam's perfect poker face—surely if he had any inclinations beyond friendship, Marco would have seen him slip up at least once.

  Marco was surprised enough to take his eyes off the stage when Katherine asked, "So have you two ever...?"

  Marco snorted a soft chuckle at the thought. "No." It was all the answer he intended to give. Beyond that was none of Katherine's business, no matter how much he liked her. Marco guarded his personal life fiercely, his love life even more so. He'd been married once, and not even Adam had known about the relationship until Marco was ready to propose.

  Some things were private, and Marco had never been one to so much as fantasize and tell. Even if they were only idle thoughts, they were his.

  At least Katherine knew him well enough not to be offended by the terse reply.

  Any further answer she might have made was preempted by the fact that Adam was suddenly looking straight down at them from the stage. Marco had stopped listening to Adam's speech several sentences ago, but he knew the gist well enough. He'd heard several practice runs, and not much was likely to change at the last minute.

  "—be here tonight. Distinguished guests, I'm sure you all know our co-founder, Marco Spinelli."

  A circle of spotlight swooped down, momentarily blinding Marco alongside a clatter of applause. Marco turned his all-business smile on the crowd, then raised his glass—still mostly full—toward the stage. He waited for the bright circle of light to return to where it belonged. From the subtle flash of humor on Adam's face, he saw straight through the facade to Marco's impatience beneath. When the light vanished at last, Marco let out a relieved breath.

  "You're getting better at that," Katherine murmured.

  Then, of course, came the true purpose of the evening, the reason Conference Hall Three was packed to bursting with reporters, cameras, investors, board members. It was time to unveil the scanner under the pleated sheet.

  A young administrative assistant came onstage just long enough to tug the fabric away and reveal the bulky device beneath. From the hushed muttering that followed, the audience was impressed. Marco found the moment anticlimactic—satisfying in its way, but lacking any real drama. The machine was his own design, after all. He'd spent too many months buried in prototypes to be wowed by a glimpse of the finished product, even propped on a literal pedestal beneath glaring spotlights.

  Onstage, Adam kept talking over the flurry of murmuring voices. He explained the advantages of the new design, describing with bald hyperbole the ways in which this technology would revolutionize healthcare.

  Marco smirked, tried to pass the expression off as a polite smile. He knew this part of the business was necessary. Spectacle drew investments and capital, and the company needed those things to continue innovating. But it still felt like some kind of magic show, no matter how many times he watched it happen—no matter how enormous the trappings had gro
wn—smoke and mirrors designed to dazzle, when as far as Marco was concerned, the technology should speak for itself.

  But then, he was just an engineer. Without Adam steering his ambitions and founding a viable company, SMT would have foundered in its first year instead of growing into the multinational behemoth it had since become.

  Eventually Adam departed the stage, to thunderous applause. Parson returned to the microphone only long enough to remind everyone to enjoy the party and to invite anyone interested in a closer look to approach the stage. Then the room brightened, lights returning to full strength, and the volume of surrounding conversation swelled from polite murmur to familiar cacophony.

  A flicker of movement to his left was all the warning Marco had before Adam was simply there. Natural and perfect at Marco's side where he belonged. Marco turned, smiled in greeting, and clinked his champagne flute with the glass of water in Adam's hand.

  "A riveting speech," Marco said, mouth quirked at one corner. Then, gesturing to his other side, "You remember Katherine Price?"

  Katherine edged closer, offering a nod and a polite smile. She stood several inches taller than Adam in those heels.

  "Of course." If Adam had needed to search his memory to place her, there was no pause to give him away. He shook Katherine's hand. "From the Tribune. We're so thrilled you could be here."

  The quick dart of Adam's eyes toward Marco was barely discernible, and no one but Marco would have been able to interpret the quick, wordless question: business or pleasure? A valid curiosity, if one Adam should already know Marco wouldn't satisfy. Marco wasn't forbidden from speaking to the press on his own terms. He owned this company too, and it was his name on the front of the building. But he also had no qualms about leaving questions of publicity in Adam's capable hands.

  "It was an excellent speech," Katherine said, words carrying more sincerity than Marco's proclamation. "You'll be dominating the business pages for weeks. I hope you won't mind if I call for an interview Monday."