by Tasha Black
For some reason the idea of a boyfriend made him furious, even though he’d already decided against sleeping with her.
The elevator chimed and he pictured Cordelia stepping out before he remembered it was only Dalton coming with coffee. West knew he wasn’t happy to be fetching coffee in the middle of the night. He also knew that Dalton would never show it.
Ten minutes later Dalton was gone, the coffee cup was empty, his busty assistant was forgotten, and West was once again fully engaged in the business of inventorying Medical Prosthetics.
West was a natural scavenger, and Med Pros was ripe with shiny prizes hidden among the weighty research expenses and failures.
He played at the inventory like a boy with a new video game. Although he was outwardly calm and quiet, in his mind he yelled and stomped his feet at each newly uncovered treasure.
He was still playing when the first rays of dawn chased the darkness away from the window.
7
Cordelia awoke at 7:45 AM with a sense of dread. Something wasn’t right.
It took a few minutes for her exhausted brain to retrieve the details of her late night rendezvous. Mr. Worthington was disassembling Med Pros.
Cordelia wasn’t sure how she was going to get through the day.
The blast of the hot shower beat her flesh into submission and then she dressed quietly to avoid waking the rest of the house. Cordelia grabbed her purse just as the text came that Dmitri was outside.
Dmitri was West’s daytime driver. He wasn’t exactly surly. But he didn’t seem like a morning person.
As a result, Cordelia almost always found herself being overly friendly to make up for his moodiness.
But today she was determined not to do that.
“Good morning, Dmitri!”
He nodded and gave her a sour look in the mirror.
“Thank you so much for picking me up so early. I can’t imagine how early you must get up,” she heard herself chatter nervously, hating herself.
He didn’t answer.
Cordelia was resolved not to say another word, even if she had to shove a sock in her own mouth.
She tried to think about something else.
The first thing that came to mind was Mr. Worthington. What had come over her yesterday? She was acting like a school girl. Just because he’d looked into her eyes while he did his nasty business did not mean he wanted her. And just because he looked handsome while he was working didn’t mean she wanted him.
She wrenched her thoughts away from him and back where they belonged, with her family.
Jessica.
Cordelia had always longed for a baby brother. But when her parents divorced she figured it was never going to happen.
When her mom met Mr. Right-Enough, Cordelia had been annoyed. But when her mother tapped lightly on Cordelia’s door to share the news that she was pregnant she must have been shocked. Instead of throwing a jealous fit Cordelia had responded like they’d all won the lottery.
From the moment Jessica was born she was absolutely perfect. Though she wasn’t a brother, Cordelia forgave her immediately and doted on her night and day.
Going off to college when Jessica was only six was dreadful.
But coming home because of Jessica’s accident was even worse.
The drunk driver hit the back seat of the car head-on. He walked away. Jessica would never walk again.
Until Mallory Pruitt and the Med Pros division of Worthington Enterprises hit a breakthrough combining targeted muscle reinnervation with wireless micro electrode therapy.
Though the technology was now being used to create bionic limbs, anyone in paralysis had to be holding their breath at the possibilities.
A job at Worthington Enterprises had never been on Cordelia’s wish list. But when things fell apart with her research when the zoo closed, landing a job at the company her family had pinned its hopes on seemed like some type of good omen. Even if it meant she was basically a glorified coffee runner, she had a direct line to the man who called the shots.
It was unthinkable that Mr. Worthington would take it away. Cordelia wanted to beg him to reconsider. But she knew him well enough to realize that would only make him more determined to do what he wanted.
There had to be a way to change his mind. It was just that her heart had dropped to her stomach and she couldn’t think.
They were at Worthington Enterprises too soon.
“Thanks, Dmitri.”
No reply. Classic.
8
West paced the lobby like a caged tiger. Every time the doors opened, he turned. The worker bees just stared at him, slack-jawed.
Westley Worthington didn’t usually hang out in the lobby.
But today he was in a hurry. He would grab Cordelia before she had time to go upstairs and hang up her sweater or whatever horse shit women did at the office for twenty minutes every day before they started working. They would go straight to Med Pros, track down Mallory Pruitt and get to the bottom of things.
The doors slid open again and he almost didn’t turn around. Thankfully, he did and he caught her.
Cordelia was headed for the elevator. She looked sleepy enough to have walked right past him.
“Cord!”
“Hey,” she replied, sleep clinging to her voice. “I mean, good morning, Mr. Worthington.”
They rode the elevator to the 12th floor in silence, and then headed down the long hall to Medical Prosthetics.
The security guard looked a little too comfortable on his stool. He didn’t even stand at their approach.
“Hi,” West said. “We’re here to see Pi… Mallory Pruitt.”
The guard simply nodded, but Cord raised an eyebrow at West. Maybe she was more awake than he was giving her credit for.
The guard glanced at their passes casually without reading them. He clearly didn’t realize he was talking to the boss. West was going to have to do something about lax security. West looked at the man’s ID badge, making a mental note to have Dalton pull up a performance history.
The door buzzed open, then closed behind them with a whoosh of air.
“Don’t you dare call her that in person,” Cord’s whisper echoed a bit in the empty hallway.
“I don’t know what you mean,” West replied.
Before she could respond, they turned a corner and they had company again.
The lab was really spectacular. Worthington Enterprises had spared no expense, and it showed. Gleaming marble floors and oak desks with soapstone tops stretched out as far as the eye could see. Many of the desks were unoccupied, but a few were surrounded by groups of people in lab coats fiddling with robotics and sensors. In one corner, an industrial wardrobe rack was hung with spacesuit style metal-lined overalls, made to test the nerve software.
A small woman in a titanium exo-suit carried a crate of materials to one of the tables. It had to weigh 500 pounds, but with the help of the suit, she handled it like it was filled with feathers.
Mallory Pruitt noticed them and headed over.
She wore a white lab coat over a t-shirt that said “Don’t Blink.” Her eyeliner and lipstick were dark, and her pale skin didn’t look like it saw the sun very often. Two long pigtails sprouted improbably from either side of her jet black hair.
This was the woman that Cordelia called the heart of the division?
West knew better than to be fooled by appearances, but she was really pushing it.
“Mr. Worthington,” she said. “Are you here to see Vince?”
“Nope,” West replied. “I’m here to see you. Where can we talk?”
Mallory looked a bit surprised, but didn’t hesitate.
“Boss’s office is empty.”
“Where is he?”
Mallory shrugged and headed for Vince’s corner office. West followed shaking his head in displeasure. He was paying Vince well, he should be here. Maybe this was part of the problem with Med Pros.
They arrived in the office and Cord discreetly s
hut the door behind them.
West cringed inwardly at the sight of Vince Palma’s desk. Overstuffed folders and empty paper coffee cups competed for space with framed personal photos and a sea of pens.
Cord grabbed the trash off the surface before they even sat down. West felt a pang of gratitude.
“So, what’s up?” Mallory asked.
What’s up?
“We have a few questions about Med Pros, Mallory.”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because,” he said. “I’m led to believe that you have intimate knowledge of the science and the department hierarchy.”
“Is this a roundabout way of saying I’m getting a promotion?”
Cord let out a breath and they both turned to her. She colored and looked demurely at her hands. She really had a stick up her butt about this department. It wasn’t like she was going to lose her job.
“We can talk about your future in the company another time,” West said, turning back to Mallory. “For today, I have some questions about Med Pros for you.”
Mallory shrugged casually like it was no big deal, but West wasn’t buying it. He was starting to get a feel for her - something he was very good at. She hid behind her hipster, I can’t be bothered to care, too cool for the room attitude. But she cared about what she was doing. A lot.
Why wasn’t she in charge here?
Maybe it had something to do with the pigtails.
A little voice in his head tried to ask if that was sexist. And if maybe his father had vetted Vince Palma more on the golf course than at the interview table. But he brushed it aside.
“Cord.”
She held her iPad out to him. He shook his head and gestured for her to begin. He was curious to see how she would react to an unexpected change in plans.
Her eyebrows lifted, but she plunged in gamely.
“Mallory,” she began, “Mr. Worthington couldn’t help but notice some things about the materials we’re sourcing for the prosthetics. The first is their cost. The second is that they are imported. Can you help us understand how the origin impacts the bottom line?”
Mallory rolled her eyes.
“Prosthetics have to be incredibly sturdy,” she said. “Once they’ve worked the kinks out of fittings, most patients wear their limb daily for about three years. The materials have to be pure and their quality consistent. We can’t skimp. The cost of a recall would be staggering, for PR as well as for finance.”
“But why do they need to be imported?” Cordelia asked. “At this price point there must be some domestic source.”
“You could ask Vince to look into it,” Mallory said, shrugging again. “That’s above my pay grade. But I know there’s a company in Texas that is supposed to be top notch.”
The company that was owned by Worthington Enterprises. What was Vince doing here?
“I see.” Cordelia made some notes and continued.
As she questioned Mallory, West grew more and more impressed at her ability to stay on track and professional, no matter what Mallory’s answers were. After a few minutes he relaxed and began to really take in the information that came up as they talked. Cordelia was taking notes on the iPad, her fingers a blur.
Just as they were wrapping up, the office door swung open.
Vince.
“West!” he bellowed. “Great to see you, man. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing,” West said coolly as he stood. “Your colleague has already answered all my questions.”
West let his tone express his displeasure. Palma had a lot of nerve showing up at 10 AM with a smile on his face.
“Everything okay, West?” Vince asked.
“I’ll be in touch.”
West sidestepped the man and slipped out the door, leaving a wide-eyed Vince Palma in his wake.
A moment later, he could hear Cordelia’s heavy tread catching up with him.
He turned to her, confused to hear the angry rhythm in her footsteps. He saw she had that set to her jaw and swing to her bosom that meant she was mad.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You just got a very smart woman in trouble,” she said. “She helped us, and you threw her to the wolves.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You just told her boss that she helped you more than he did.”
“Well…she did. She should be commended.”
“Maybe so, but now you’re going to go on about your business while her boss makes her pay for his embarrassment.”
West shrugged, but realized she was right. He was normally pretty good at the politics. He snuck a glance at Cordelia.
Her lips pressed together.
West never defended himself to anyone. But somehow her judgement mattered.
“I’m going to ditch Vince as soon possible. Then I’m going to give her his job.”
It might not be much if West ended up selling the assets, but it would look good on her resume, at least.
Cordelia turned to him with shining eyes.
“If I can require her to dress professionally without lawsuits. Get Legal on the phone for me.”
She gaped at him a moment longer, then slipped the phone out and got to work.
“Then you’re going to have to talk to her about the pigtails.”
9
Peter sat quietly in his apartment, watching out the window as the rest of the world went to work.
He hadn’t been back in a long time. He glanced around at the simple furnishings. It looked more modest than he remembered.
There wasn’t any food, and he didn’t feel like going out. So he sat there, alone with his thoughts.
How had he ended up here?
After the Worthingtons had turned their comfortable living into an empire - through prep school and college and false friends and hangers on - West had always told Peter he was his lifeline. They had known each other since they were kids.
After graduation, the country was in recession and when West threw a fit, insisting that Peter be a part of Worthington Enterprises, he had relented. He’d been drawing a salary to hang out with his best friend ever since.
West was always insulted that Peter wanted to keep his own apartment. But Peter had held his ground - he needed a place, even if he never went there.
What was he going to do now?
If he didn’t go back, he knew his salary would be cut off immediately. He was pretty sure he had some money in his account, but it wasn’t like he’d ever been careful with it.
And he wasn’t sure how soon West would remember that this apartment was on “expense” with Worthington.
He’d come back here mad as hell last night, vowing to never let himself be treated like that again.
It seemed like such a righteous idea last night.
He was still pissed. And now he was hungry, and lonely, and he had a decision to make.
Crawl back, like he’d done so many times before?
Or show West he was wrong?
Peter had never been good at getting even. He was a nice guy. Everyone knew that about Peter. He knew they probably laughed at him. After all, he was a professional best friend - good looking but never as good looking as West. Smart, but never as smart as West.
On the other hand, crawling back would be awful. Maybe West wouldn’t even take him back. Maybe he had one of the other guys in his place already and they would laugh at him.
Peter thought of the beautiful dancers and West watching him and laughing at him. He shuddered.
No. Peter was decided. He was not going back.
He was going to prove Westley Worthington wrong by doing something for himself.
He unlocked his phone and scrolled through the contacts for inspiration. Who owed him a favor?
10
Cordelia knew she should be exhausted, but there was a spring in her step.
West had her trailing him all day and he was on fire about Med Pros. She could tell he was enjoying himself. Surely, he w
ould decide to keep this division. Maybe he would turn it into something even more incredible.
West stopped in his tracks so suddenly that Cordelia almost ran into him.
“I want coffee,” he said.
“Coffee sounds like a good plan.”
Before she could ask what he wanted he had his phone out. Was she not on coffee duty?
She tried not to read too much into it, but couldn’t help the little jolt of satisfaction it gave her. She was too important to waste on a coffee run.
She pictured more meetings where she was asked to provide her take on things. More late night brainstorming sessions. That bedroom next to Mr. Worthington’s office. He might start to see her as something more. Shared glances. Accidental touches. Both of them would know it was wrong, but he would take her hand anyway, lead her into the bedroom. And..
“How do you like it?”
She snapped back to reality.
“Pardon?” she asked, her cheeks warming involuntarily.
“Your coffee,” West raised an eyebrow at her. She forgot her own name for moment. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Um…” You can do this. Don’t be a total space cadet. “Cream please, no sugar.”
That wasn’t how she liked her coffee. In fact, she usually preferred tea, but at least it sounded like something a normal person might order. Which was a relief.
“Got it,” West said, typing into the phone.
How did he have such an effect on her? He wasn’t remotely her type. She knew he had no interest in her. But still, she kept finding herself blindsided by these unexpected feelings.
They continued at his breakneck pace. Next up was a quick meeting with Gary from legal. He had already prepared the termination for Vince, but gave West hell about Mallory’s hair.
“If you make a policy about hair, you have to be consistent,” Gary said. “That means more problems with more employees complaining about each other or pushing the envelope. And if she claims the pigtails are religious you’ll be raked over the coals in court.”
“What do you think, Cord?” West asked.