Mr. Big

by Delancey Stewart

  We finished and I rolled off of her, leaning in to kiss her neck and shoulder before whispering, “I’ll be right back.” I found the bathroom and cleaned up, returning to the bedroom to find Holland pulling on her jeans.

  “I like to cuddle after,” I informed her, half-joking but surprised at my own disappointment. I did want to hold her, I wanted to make this moment last as long as possible.

  But something in Holland’s face told me she wasn’t happy. She forced a smile, but she looked like she might be about to cry. My mind raced, trying to piece together the last few minutes, looking for the place where things had gone off track. Shit. Had I already fucked this up?

  Chapter 12

  Holland

  Hale returned from the bathroom with a self-satisfied smile on his face, and I felt terrible when he looked at me and it fell away. I knew he hadn’t smiled much lately, and I didn’t want to be another person to make him unhappy.

  “I’m sorry.” The apology fell from my lips before I even had time to think about it. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

  “We did that, Holland,” he corrected, pulling on his pants. “Together.”

  “Right. Well, it’s not the usual thing for me…It’s just…” I turned to look at him. He stood there, next to my bed, in bare feet and blue jeans. His broad chest was smooth, except for a trail of dark blond hair leading from his belly button into the waist of his jeans. His muscles stood out, each abdominal muscle defined in the way that had always confused me—how did anyone manage to get them so toned? I knew mine were in there somewhere, but they remained well hidden. “I’m not really a spontaneous kind of girl. I let things get a little out of control there. I don’t do this…I don’t want you to think I’m like that,” I said, feeling the creep of embarrassment climbing my cheeks.

  “Do you think I’m like that, then?” Hale said, his voice taking on an edge that stung. He looked hurt.

  “No. I mean…” I pulled my shirt on and stood in front of him. “I don’t know. We really just met. That’s why we probably shouldn’t have…” The truth of it hit me but seeing the pain on his face made me regret the words. We had just met, but I’d chosen to bring him here, to let things progress. And though I regretted the action in theory, no part of me actually regretted sleeping with Hale. There was something about him I trusted, even if it seemed like I shouldn’t. I tried to backpedal. “You, Hale…you’re different from other guys I’ve known. And honestly, I haven’t known any guys lately. Not for a long time, really. It’s just…” My voice trailed off and I tried to think about what I could say to explain how I felt. “I didn’t expect that to happen. Maybe it was just all the stress about the MLB thing…” I turned away from him, rubbing a hand over my face and looking for some rational thing to explain what I’d just done.

  “Neither of us planned it, Holland.” He took my hand lightly, letting his fingers clasp mine gently and then slide away.

  “That’s what’s wrong.” I shrugged, facing him again. “I plan everything. You don’t know me that well, so you don’t know that about me. But I don’t really do spontaneous. I don’t do ‘fun and carefree’—that’s not usually me. I guess you caught me off guard. This did.” I gestured between us. “This…whatever this is. Was.”

  “Is,” he said softly, turning and pulling his shirt on. We walked out into the living room, something awkward and strange between us, but the confusion I felt dissipating somewhat.

  I felt like a fool. Who lured a man they hardly knew to their apartment, acting like a wild creature and then apologized for it? Maybe Hale and I were a good fit. He swung madly between arrogance and vulnerability, and evidently I swung between rational and sex-crazed fiend. I laughed to myself at the irony of having done something so completely against my nature. “There’s a lot going on right now,” I said, the chuckle still in my voice. “That was fun, Hale. But with this presentation coming up…I just need to focus.”

  “Then let’s get it done.” Hale pulled my computer from the bag he’d dropped by the door when we’d come in. He shot me a look. “And then maybe we can focus on some other things.” The suggestion was clear in his voice and his face, and I felt the wavering desire that had led us here—to my bed—in the first place.

  I nodded, but felt guilty. I’d taken Hale’s entire day now, and was beginning to wonder if he didn’t have other things he needed to do with his weekend. “You don’t have to stay.”

  “You still need to work out the narrative for the tech presentation.” He sat down at my kitchen table and pulled up the slides we’d finished earlier.

  “Um.” I pulled the other chair to his side. “Okay.” I watched him flip the switch from powerful sex god to all-business Hale. Part of me was disappointed. With the business side of Hale hard at work, the heady intimacy between us faded. This version of him was focused and smart. And I wondered how the hell he could think when my mind was filled with split-second images of what had just gone on in the room next to us. I knew I’d be seeing him above me in my dreams for years to come. He was the single hottest man I’d ever slept with.

  As Hale pieced together the story that went with each slide, he checked in with me, making sure I was comfortable with the wording. But most of the time, he kept his eyes on the presentation and leaned forward in concentration. I watched him work and wondered exactly how to categorize what was happening here. A relationship was absolutely not part of my plan right now, but a little voice in my head was asking if it would be the worst thing to let the plan reshuffle itself a bit. I wanted to chalk up what had just happened to the stress, or to my years-long dry spell, but those things didn’t explain the easy conversation, the sweet, tender time we’d spent walking through Santa Monica. It didn’t explain why even when I’d been annoyed at Mr. Big Dick in the coffeehouse, I’d been wildly attracted to him at the same time.

  “There.” Hale sat back three hours after sitting down to finish the tech slides, and grinned at me. “Now you just need to finish your wrap-up and you’ll be golden.”

  I scanned through the presentation. He’d simplified the complex drawings he’d helped make, and highlighted the main attributes that should make this a no-brainer for the potential client. He’d made notes beneath each slide to help me keep my narrative on track as I went. Now I just had to get through the meeting.

  I watched Hale get ready to leave, wanting to draw the moment out and unable to keep myself from asking, “Do you have fun things planned for the rest of the weekend?”

  He stopped moving for a second, and then his eyes found my face and he shook his head. “Do you, Holland? Have fun things planned?”

  “Well, I’ll probably practice the presentation four thousand times, just to be sure I’ve got it nailed. That should take me right up to Monday morning.”

  “Don’t stress about it, it’ll come naturally. You know this stuff.” He shook his head, dropping his shoe to the floor and then catching my eye again. “You shouldn’t be in sales. You belong in analytics.”

  I shrugged. “I’m working on that. If I nail this, I’m hoping I’ll catch the attention of the execs, and they’ll find me a spot over there.”

  He looked thoughtful, the dark eyes clouding as he said, “I’m sure they will.” He broke our gaze and reached for his shoe again.

  “Thank you for all the help, Hale.”

  He shook his head, dismissing the idea. “Don’t stress yourself out about the presentation. You’ve got it.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I’ll have to fake my way through some of the details. Hopefully they won’t ask too many questions.”

  He leaned in, closing the space between us, taking my jaw in one hand as he gazed down at me with liquid eyes. “You’ll do fine,” he said. And then he leaned down and brushed his lips across mine, sending sparks skittering down my spine. “What time is the meeting?”

  “Nine o’clock Monday.”

  Hale stood and walked toward the door. “I’ll pick you up at eight.�
�

  “What?” I followed him to the door, confused.

  “In case they ask a lot of questions,” he said. “Just for backup.”

  “You don’t need to go,” I said. Who would I say he was? I stared at him, trying to figure out what he wasn’t telling me. “How will I introduce you?” If I was honest, it would be a relief to have an ally, but it made no sense.

  He smiled at me again, my heart skipping as if on cue. A shadow flickered through his eyes and he seemed to hesitate, but then his chin lifted and he continued. “About that, I’ve been meaning to tell you something, and you’ll definitely need to know for the meeting.”

  “What?”

  “I told you Hale was a nickname.”

  “Right.”

  “My name is Oliver.”

  I nodded, not sure why he chose this moment to tell me that. “Okay…”

  The look he gave me before he disappeared out the door was strange. He looked guilty. And it was almost like he waited a beat to see if I reacted to the name. Did he really think not telling me his name was that big of a deal? Lots of people went by nicknames.

  “I’ll pick you up Monday, Holland.”

  I nodded, feeling confused as my mind turned over this strange development. “Bye, Oliver.” I let the name slide off my tongue as the door shut.

  —

  By Monday morning, I had some dark suspicions about why Oliver had decided to tell me his real name, most of which revolved around my memory of the photos hanging in my company’s lobby and the striking resemblance he bore to the CEO. When a Mercedes coupe pulled up at my apartment building just before eight and Oliver stepped out in a tailored suit with his hair cut short and the three-day scruff trimmed to a very manicured shadow, the suspicions I’d been trying to ignore were confirmed.

  Oliver was Oliver Cody. As in Cody Technology. As in the CEO of my company, and therefore my boss. Actually, my boss’s boss.

  I walked out the front door to meet him, my fury barely contained. “You lied to me,” I hissed.

  “Good morning,” he said, a wary smile on his too-handsome face. He opened the passenger door and saw me settled before closing it behind me and getting in on the other side.

  Once he was seated, I turned and let him have it. “How the hell could you not tell me who you are? From the very first moment? You let me believe you were some kind of down-and-out developer! Some…some nobody!”

  “Holland,” he said, but I wasn’t done.

  “No! You made a fool of me, letting me whine to you about the hiring process…and I just read an email telling me the analyst I told you about was demoted last Friday! You did that, didn’t you?” Pamela had forwarded the email to me. Pamela, my confidante at work. Oliver’s secretary. I hadn’t told her anything about my involvement with the mysterious guy in the coffeehouse, Hale. I should have. She would have put two and two together much more quickly than I had.

  “He didn’t deserve the position. He has the opportunity to work back up to it. The demotion was based on a review of his work.”

  “I don’t care! That wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t who you are, and if you hadn’t been pretending to be someone else! Who does that? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Oliver didn’t answer, just looked away to stare at his hands on the steering wheel. After a long silence, he said, “I wanted to tell you. I tried…”

  “I didn’t stop you.”

  He looked sad again, and I fought to keep the anger burning inside me. He’d been dishonest, he’d lied. That was a hard thing for me to overlook, even when his very presence seemed to make the air between us vibrate, even when every cell in my body was screaming for me to forgive him and climb into his lap. I had another thought as we sat there at the curb, an image of the angry man I’d seen on the executive floor flashed into my mind. “That was you,” I whispered, realizing the truth of it. “You were up in the executive tower that night, a few days before I met you, throwing things and screaming!”

  “I let things get a little out of control.”

  “I saw you. I sent security up.”

  He looked at me, an eyebrow lifted and a tiny smile lifting one corner of his mouth.

  “Jesus,” I breathed. “Who does that? What were you so angry about?”

  He cleared his throat. “We need to get going if we’re going to make the meeting. Shall I still come? I could just drop you and wait in the parking lot.”

  I stared at my hands on my lap. I wanted to go back in time and do a better job resisting him in the first place. I wanted to go back and stick to my plan. But it was too late. And I wasn’t confident enough about presenting the technology myself. I’d let him design it out from under me, in the guise of helping me. My blood began to heat again as my brain spun. What the hell could his actual angle even be? He was the CEO already. It wasn’t like he hoped to climb the corporate ladder based on this big win.

  “Let’s go,” I bit out. I needed to win this account. I needed to impress the MLB people and get them to commit. And when I’d done that, secured my position and hopefully a raise, I’d figure everything else out. “One thing,” I said as Oliver guided the little car away from the curb. “Your career is already made, Mr. Big Dick CEO, but this is my chance. Or it was supposed to be. If you’re involved…” Would the credit all go to him?

  “The credit is yours. It was your idea. I just helped refine a good technology repurposed by a smart analyst. You might end up saving the company with this, Holland.” We drove in silence for a moment, and then he grinned and shot me a look. “ ‘Big Dick CEO’?”

  I glared at him. I couldn’t worry about what he thought of my nickname for him—which was way more appropriate than “Hale,” by the way—and I couldn’t think about whatever trouble Cody Tech might be in. I had too much to think about getting ready to present. Everything else—the ferocious anger I felt at Oliver for lying to me, the insatiable lust welling up inside me in reaction to seeing him in that suit, the confusion I felt over why he’d done what he did—it would all have to wait.

  We rode in silence the rest of the way to the meeting, with the exception of Oliver saying very quietly before we got out of the car, “You look amazing, by the way.” And then, as we walked into the building, his breath hot on my neck as he whispered in my ear, “Your ass looks incredible in that skirt.”

  When we arrived in the lobby, we were ushered to a boardroom and introductions were made, though it seemed Oliver needed little introduction.

  We met with Anton Mitchell and four other men, though once Oliver had been identified as the CEO of Cody Tech, the baseball people seemed to decide to take the meeting more seriously, and three more men and a woman joined us at the long table. I was nervous as hell, my hands sweating and my voice shaking as I began introducing the idea. I scanned the room of faces as I spoke, each of them impassive and skeptical as I went through my slides, and I began to feel like I was bombing, like this entire thing was a bust. In desperation, I let my eyes drift to Oliver’s. He smiled and nodded, the dark orbs glinting and a faint smile on his lips. Despite my anger with him, it was a comfort to see him sitting there, to feel his support. To know I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t imagine what this would have been like without him here. Especially once it was time to dig into the details of the technology.

  “I’m going to step aside for a moment and let Mr. Cody present the technical aspects of this solution,” I told the group, relieved to be about to drop out of the spotlight for a few minutes.

  Oliver dropped a hand on my shoulder as we passed at the side of the room, and I handed him the clicker to advance the slides. “Great job,” he whispered.

  I doubted his sincerity, but it was nice to hear. I sat next to one of the men we’d been introduced to and turned to listen to Oliver.

  “Most of you know how Cody Tech got started,” he said. “But just in case you don’t, I’ll bore you with the story for just a moment because it’s pertinent to what Ms. O’Dell and I a
re here showing you today.” In front of the room, dressed in a charcoal suit and an emerald-green tie, Oliver looked every bit the CEO, and nothing like the down-and-out jerk I’d met at the coffeehouse. He held himself with complete confidence as he moved fluidly in the front of the room, making eye contact with each person in attendance, a slight smile making the cut of his jaw less threatening. He was like a big cat, prowling before it makes a kill. I watched him, looking for traces of that sad lost man I’d met before, looking for Hale—the man I’d allowed further into my life than anyone in the past few years. Oliver was regal and confident—he met my eye every now and then, and in those split seconds I got a quick impression of Hale. I felt him more than saw him, but it was a small comfort, and it made me forget how angry I was at him.

  Oliver finished up, and I was glad he’d come when the assembled baseball executives began volleying questions at him about the technology. He handled the questions gracefully, and by the time he’d finished, he’d somehow managed to make it seem like this was a done deal, like baseball had no real choice but to implement this technology, though nothing had been signed yet. It was an impressive tactic, one I hoped I might be able to emulate someday. If nothing else, this shinier version of Hale could teach me a hell of a lot, though I wasn’t sure how much I’d be hanging out with the CEO of my company now that I knew the truth. And once this presentation was over, would there be any need for us to hang out, anyway?

  We spent another half hour shaking hands and discussing follow-up documentation and the next meeting, and I struggled with warring emotions. I was furious with Oliver. Why the hell had he lied to me? Why had he perpetuated the lie for so long? I was also almost gleeful about the way the meeting had gone. What would this mean for my future? Would it be the ticket to move up that I’d been counting on? Or had Oliver smashed that possibility just by being who he is?