“I don’t mind designing it for you. I can have it ready by tomorrow.”
“You’d give it to me?” my question is laced with bewildered amusement.
Emma gives a small, unsure nod.
A hearty laugh bursts out before I can contain it, “You really are small town aren’t you?”
“Fine!” she snaps, halting my laughter and catching me off guard. Emma grabs the napkin, crumbling it and throwing it into her purse. “Like I said, it was only me playing around.”
Suppressing another chuckle at how she squares her jaw, lifting it just a notch, I can’t help but admire her determination to despise me when it’s clear by the hurt in her eyes that she cares what I think.
“Damn, Jess, I hurt your friend’s feelings again.”
“Stop being a prick!” Jess snaps.
“My feelings aren’t susceptible to your nocuous attitude,” Emma proclaims, smoothing her sweater before folding her hands calmly on the table.
Yes, she is most definitely a beautiful liar. Bursting out in laughter, my brows pull together, “Nocuous?”
The slightest curve tilts her luscious lips and a need-filled ache builds steadily in my pants as my throat goes dry. Feelings stirring to life inside shame me. I’m not the type of man to want the woman, just what the woman can do to satisfy my needs at that moment. With Emma, I want something more. If only I knew what that something is so I can just take it already, fuck her, and be done with it.
The next glance into her expectant eyes proves that it won’t be that easy. Not with her. “You mistook my meaning. I meant what I said about the design; it’s perfect for the product, simple but strong. I still want it, but I won’t take it for free, so what do you want for it?”
Emma appears uncomfortable. It’s obvious she’s out of her element when it comes to business deals. I’ll have to work with her on that before she starts selling her art, assuming she isn’t giving that away for free as well. I already know she’s giving lessons for free at the center, a quick call to Patty, the center’s coordinator, confirmed that.
“I-I don’t know. Maybe fifty dollars.”
“I don’t work for a small mom and pops business, Emma. Don’t undersell yourself.”
The chewing on the inside of her cheek, causing her lip to curve sideways and downwards, is a pretty good indicator that she’s still struggling with coming up with a price. I decide to put her out of her misery, “I’ll pay one thousand dollars.”
“One thousand!” Her eyes widen in shock.
“But, you have to present it,” I state, guessing she’s not done much of that either.
The panic in her eyes proves I’m right. “Present it where?”
“To the board members at the meeting on Friday.”
“I have to work on Friday,” she blurts, relief filling her beautiful eyes.
“Okay, Friday evening then, at the party the company is hosting for the new line. You can go as my guest and present it there.”
Jess glares at me.
I smile cockily.
“I have to work early Saturday morning.”
“You’ll be out of there in plenty of time to sleep before work the next morning,” I state, my tone indicating that the decision has already been made.
She opens her mouth to protest, but the waitress returns with our lunch and her blouse open a few more buttons.
Jess rolls her eyes as Emma glances at me through her lashes, deepening her spell.
Clinching my jaw, I tear my eyes away from her and give the waitress a wink chock full of innuendo, effectively disgusting Emma to the point where she is ignoring me again.
The rest of the lunch hour is spent with Emma barely touching her meal and Jess shooting visual daggers at me. I thoroughly enjoy my sub, knowing that Jess will not be asking me to do her anymore favors with Emma anytime soon.
“Can I please have a carry out box?” Emma asks the waitress, reaching for her purse.
“I’ve got the tab,” I announce, pulling out my wallet.
“Thank you,” Emma manages to spit out, “but I can pay for my lunch.”
“I’m sure you can, but you’re not going to,” I state, leaving no room for argument while I give the waitress a generous tip instead of what she really wants, as indicated with her number written on the receipt she hands me. Leaving the receipt on the table, I turn towards Emma and Jess, feeling every bit of the tension Emma is struggling to control.
“Thank you for lunch,” Emma’s words are rushed and tinged with a little anger.
“No problem,” I smile, refraining from brushing back a piece of hair that has loosened from the bun and is blowing across her face. The stark blue of her eyes shimmers, brightened further by her tan, silky skin. The chestnut wisp continues to torture me as it falls against the corner of her full mouth. Thoughts of my lips on hers, her lips on me, leave me in physical torment. I want to feel that mouth getting me off. Stepping away from her, I grapple with my waning self-control and make myself focus. “Where do you work?”
“Shallonelles,” she replies, her eyes not quite meeting mine. She hesitates before adding, “And the gallery on Main.”
“What do you do there?”
“I create the art for the paper’s ads.”
“What do you do at the gallery?” I ask, getting the feeling she left that part out on purpose.
“I give tours.” Emma flashes a forced smile.
“Is any of your work there?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“No.” There’s that fake smile again, and something I wasn’t prepared for…a heartbreaking longing.
“Not yet, anyway,” Jess chimes in, giving me a warning look to back off. “But it won’t be long before her work is hanging in galleries.”
Emma smiles appreciatively at Jess, giving her a quick hug before giving a polite, but impersonal, wave my way and walking to her car.
Once Emma’s out of earshot, Jess lights into me, “What the hell was all that about with the design?”
“What? I wasn’t lying; it’s good.”
“I know it’s good, but that’s not what I’m talking about. You know that you don’t need to present it. You make the decisions about things like that without needing the board member’s approval. What are you up to?”
“Granddad has been trying to get me to play nice with the members. I thought I would appease him on this one.”
“Oh, please! You thought you would seize the opportunity to try to get Emma in your bed.”
“You know that I don’t let anyone in my bed, ever.”
“You also don’t chase after anyone either, ever. At least, not before Em.”
“I’m not chasing after, Em. She just looks like she could use some practice presenting and selling her art. This is the perfect learning experience for her.”
“You don’t help anyone, either,” Jess chastises.
Raising my brow, I scowl at her.
Sighing, she backs off. “You know what I mean. You don’t help anyone with things like this, and definitely not with women. The opposite sex means only one thing to you, sex!”
“You’re of the opposite sex and only my friend,” I remind her.
“We’re different.” She lets out a long breath, her own scowl daring me to bring up that night when we were sixteen, confused as hell, and made a huge mistake.
That night hasn’t been breached since it happened. We both know it’s better that way. A lot of things are better staying buried in the past. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“Or maybe you’re trying to burn an old one.”
“Jess!” I snap, my tone clearly letting her know it’s not wise for her to continue on the path she’s started down.
“Sorry,” Jess states, the pleading look back, “but you, more than most, know what happens when you play with fire.”
“Dammit, Jess, don’t!” I try to demand, but it comes out more like a plea than a command. Fuck, this has not been my finest few days
. My control is slipping. I haven’t lost control in years, and there’s no way in hell that I’m going to lose it now.
Giving me a quick hug, Jess pulls away, a mist in her eyes that I rarely see. “Just don’t make Emma the kindle to your inferno. I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”
We both know that it’s way too late for me. As far as Emma, that’s up to her.
“What’s Em’s number?”
“Breck, please!” she begs.
“C’mon, Jess, when’s the last time I’ve had to call any woman looking for sex? I need her number to set-up another lunch meeting to go over the presentation. Besides, you know that I never make anyone do anything they don’t already want to do. Emma knows how to say no, and I know how to respect that.” Flashing a cocky grin, I shrug my shoulders, “Even though I never hear that word.”
Hesitating, Jess shakes her head, grabbing my phone and adding Emma’s number. “I swear if you hurt her, you’ll have to deal with me.”
“I’ve been dealing with you since I was four, I think I can handle it,” I quip, pulling her back into my arms. “You, Jessica Raye, are just a softie underneath your hard ass exterior.”
Playfully jabbing me in the side when I say her middle name, she looks at me sincerely, “And so are you.”
I make sure Jess makes it to her car before calling Emma.
“Hello.” Her voice is carefree, the exact opposite of when she’s talking with me, or when she knows that it’s me she’s talking with.
“Is your lunch always at 1:00?”
“Sorry?” Emma asks, the confusion evident in her voice, “Breck?”
“Already have my voice engrained to memory, huh? Ah, so, the consumption has begun.”
There’s a soft sigh on the other end, assumingly because she’s trying to calm down before speaking again. “Yes. My lunch is always at 1:00. Why?”
“We need to meet before the presentation to discuss the design so everything goes smoothly.”
“I’m busy the rest of the week during my lunch break. Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am! I have deadlines to meet and projects to finish,” Emma replies with a bit more edge in her voice.
“I meant that you’re not sorry.”
Another pause. “I have to go.”
“And we have to meet, so it will have to be dinner then. Thursday night. Meet me at Dur Acier.”
“I-I ca-”
“I’m on the top floor. Be there at 6:00,” I demand, closing the phone as a grin spreads across my lips at the thought of Emma staring at her cell, her nose all scrunched with frustration. Whistling, I drive to the restaurant to get things ready before dinner tonight. The air outside is cool, but the sun’s rays shining through the sun roof warm my shoulders on the twenty minute drive.
“You have two large parties who want the private room the same night, the new oven arrived, the reporter from the paper called again, pressuring for an interview, and the lady from wherever the hell she’s from is at a table at the bar needing your decision on the new dinnerware.” Steve, the manager of Kylianna’s, bombards me as I walk through the door. “Oh, and the ale hasn’t arrived. Sorry, I’ve called three times.”
“Shit. Get me the number to the owner of the ale company, not the manager or distributer; I want to talk directly with the owner. Tell the reporter that my answer is the same as the dozen times he’s asked me before, no interview about the food donations to the center or about the new restaurant opening in New York. As far as the dueling parties, offer the first party that called to book the private room and tell the other party that we can offer them the heated deck, which we can make private, and throw in a bottle of Giovanni Chiappini Guado de’ Gemoli to sweeten the offer. Put the signed delivery papers for the oven at my desk. I will meet with Mrs. Stavley about the dinnerware then I’ll call to make sure the ale is delivered before 7:00 p.m.. For now, if a customer asks for ale, give them the best draft at half off with a free appetizer.”
Steve gives a quick nod before heading to take care of the tasks. He’s efficient and trustworthy, which is what prompted me to offer him the manager’s position three years ago when I opened Kylianna’s. Now, I just have to teach him to not take no for an answer when negotiating.
Walking through the main dining area, I’m filled with the same peace and sense of belonging that I only feel when I’m here. This is my home, my place in the world, what I busted my ass for five years to accomplish. The ambiance was carefully created by a professional designer, a little over the top for my tastes, but the customers seem to appreciate the details put into the five star restaurant. The dimly lit atmosphere gives a romantic feel while the high back, plush booths offer privacy. The soft lighting is accented with dark crystal spheres hanging aesthetically throughout the room. A large rock fireplace sits in the back and a majestic stone fountain boasts the entryway. The heated deck is constructed out of oak, mosaic tile, and decorative stonework. The deck is my favorite part of the restaurant.
Entering the bar, I can’t help but smirk at what the decorator called ‘enhancement lighting’, but what I call trick lighting, illuminating everyone’s features in the most appealing way, apparently, very similar to candlelight, according to the decorator. It took every dime I had saved from years of juggling two jobs through high school and college, several lucrative street fights, and a few hefty loans to make my dream a reality. Blood, sweat, fierce determination, and three years later, Kylianna’s is listed as one of the most prestigious restaurants in the East, giving me the ability to have paid off all the loans and build another restaurant that is due to open on New Year’s Eve. I keep waiting for everything to come crashing down. Until it does, it’s mine, the only thing that is mine, and I’ll fight like hell to keep it.
“Mr. Steele, it’s nice to see you again,” Mrs. Stavley smiles, extending her hand covered in platinum and diamonds.
I give it a quick shake instead of the kiss against her knuckles that she expects and is accustomed to from everyone other than me. “Nice to see you again as well, Mrs. Stavley,” I greet the woman standing in front of me who is in her mid thirties, gorgeous, unbelievably rich, and bored to tears with her billionaire husband, which is one of the reasons she chose to take a job traveling the States with designer dinnerware. The other reason is that it allows her to hook up with her collection of lovers she’s met along her ventures. If she weren’t married, I would have obliged her advances the first time we met. There are very few lines that I don’t cross, but fucking a married woman is one of them.
“Congratulations on Kylianna’s being featured in the top five restaurants in America last month,” she purrs, running her finger down my wrist and over the top of my hand before strategically playing with the diamond that hangs just at the top of her exposed ample chest.
“Thank you,” I smile politely, ready to get on with selecting the dinnerware so she will leave.
“I was hoping to see your picture with the article, like the other featured owners of the restaurants listed.” Stepping closer, she runs her tongue across her top lip, “You don’t seem like the shy type to me.”
“Shy, no. Private, yes.” Giving a vague compliment about her sweater, I manage to make her attention sway to the cashmere that is a size too small as I take the opportunity to step back from her and closer to the display of overpriced plates arranged on the dark-stained Oak bar top.
“I’ve brought the newest designs from Italy, France, and Japan. The one from Italy hasn’t even been put on the market yet.” Adjusting her sweater a little lower, her lust filled green eyes lock on mine, “If I may suggest that you go a bit bolder than last time, it would certainly be worth your investment.”
Understanding her meaning, my gaze turns cold, detached, “I choose boldly when the offer satisfies my desires. In this case, Mrs. Stavley, I’ll take the Italian design. I prefer pieces that haven’t yet been purchased.”
“Very well, Mr. Steele, if that’s y
our decision,” she hisses. “They will arrive within a week’s time.” Mrs. Stavley snatches her products, stopping directly in front of me before leaving, “If you rethink your decision, you know where to find me.”
Choosing not to engage, I take a step to the side, leaving her a clear path to the door.
Chapter Four
The pounding in my head matches the tempo of the vein pulsating furiously on my forehead. Many challenges have presented themselves since Granddad’s illness got to the point to where he is bed ridden. He’s notorious for his business deals. Harrison Steele did not make his millions by playing nice, which has left him with very few friends. He’s a tough bastard, but he’s honest and fair, rare qualities in this cut throat world.
Being the new kid, quite literally at twenty-four, in a business realm led by men who reached the status I have only after years of climbing the ladder, is like a fresh wound oozing blood into a pool of frenzied sharks. Granddad’s business partners have been out for the kill since I was appointed his replacement until he is back on his feet, and they seem hell-bent to maim and torture before the kill shot. The first in line has been Fraiser, who is currently doing his best to eliminate me, but I don’t play nice, either, and I’m sure as hell not anybody’s bait.
“You’ll agree to the amount I gave and have the papers signed and delivered directly to my hand by 8:30 a.m. Thursday morning or your share in Dur Acier will be stripped from your greedy hands, including your new side business.”
“You have no authority to touch my share of Dur Acier, or the means to threaten anything of mine that is not affiliated with your grandfather’s business,” Frasier shouts, increasing the sharp pain stabbing my temple.
“Your agreement was to complete the manufacturing merger between Frasier & Cole and Dur Acier by the end of the business day on today’s date. If it’s not completed, I have full authority to terminate all business transactions with you due to the disclaimer agreed and signed by you one year ago yesterday. My grandfather is the only reason you can afford to have three homes and multiple out of country vacations. It is out of respect for him that I’m giving you until Thursday morning to honor your word. If it were up to me, I would cease the partnership immediately, taking your side venture down along with your over-indulgent lifestyle, which I don’t have the authority to touch, but don’t assume that I don’t have the means,” I warn.
Ash to Steele Page 6