Conflict of Interest (Employee Relations Book 1)

by Teresa Michaels

  He stares at me, evaluating the sincerity of my words. As if I need to prove my point I grab the guy next to me and kiss him, trying like hell to recreate the fire I felt a few moments ago.

  It's a lost cause.

  I pull back from the guy and turn to Lucas whose glare has turned lethal. "See? You have nothing to worry about."

  I turn and push through the mob of people dancing, heading straight toward the bar as my friends chase after me. Kyra and Summer catch up and watch me with concern.

  "You alright?" Summer asks.

  Just as I'm about to answer he’s at my side. "Gabriella," the stern use of my name demands that I face him.

  I whip around, steadying myself by placing my elbows on the bar behind me. "What?"

  He leans in so that I can hear him over the background noise. "Can we be adults about this?"

  My head drops back and I belt out a bark of a laugh. "That's rich coming from you."

  He watches me thoughtfully and once again hovers beside my ear. "Don't confuse my words. Can't happen isn't synonymous with don't want. Both of us know that can't happen again no matter how bad I want to get you alone and rip that poor excuse for a shirt off your body. You think I want to sit across from you in meetings knowing how soft your lips feel pressed against mine? How your tongue tastes? Fuck...those should be the farthest thoughts from my mind, Gabriella. It’s bad enough knowing that no one’s touched you in a long time because I want to be the one that finally does. Why the fuck do you think it’s so hard to be near you?" He takes a deep breath.

  I'm paralyzed as he rests his forehead against mine. "I won’t risk my career and you shouldn’t either. I’ll say it again, Gabriella. Last weekend opened my eyes...I don't want to lose that. I’m more sorry than you can possibly know. But for both our sakes, don’t do that again."

  He steps back and I let his words sink in. He's right. The constant tension isn't good for either of us. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it, or believe anything he’s said for that matter.

  "Fine. But come Monday morning when you’re back to giving me the silent treatment or telling me off, it’ll be the last time I give you another chance.”

  “You don’t have to believe me because I’m going to prove you wrong.”

  When I’m lying in bed later that night I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

  Chapter 11

  Gabby

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  Pink, plump and glistening.

  Those lips will be the death of me. Like a gateway drug to the stronger shit, I want a hit so bad it’s all I can concentrate on.

  Fucking friends.

  Two meetings into my day and I’m like a lost puppy salivating over a bone at the sight of Gabriella applying lip gloss on the other side of the room, wondering what the hell they put in that shit to make it so addicting. My guess is nothing, it’s all Gabriella but I still can’t stop myself from wanting another taste to be sure.

  These are the thoughts that consume me instead of caring about our current position according to Wall Street.

  It’s infuriating, and I blame her.

  Confessing my attraction to her was a mistake, one I don’t entirely regret. Had she not taking matters into her own hands I’d still be wondering versus knowing, and reality is less easy to ignore. Yet here I am obsessing over how perfect her mouth is and wanting to find out if the rest of her is the same.

  I spent the better part of Sunday mentally defining the boundaries of friendship. My version allowing for something slightly different than what I found in the dictionary and I’m guessing by the way she’s avoided me all morning that she’d disagree with me too.

  I meant everything I said to her. Working with her last weekend did open my eyes. Her ideas are creative, she has great intuition and I trust her judgment. Did I think we’d find a way to work side by side in a professional manner? No. Did I anticipate asking her to be friends? Not exactly though I can handle that. What I struggle with is the other piece of the equation—our intense chemistry, coupled with first-hand knowledge that it’s at least physically mutual.

  I close my eyes and sigh.

  Watching her facilitate a meeting in that skirt when I know what it feels like to have her leg hiked up on my hip, grinding against me while I swallow her moans is painfully tempting. But what’s surprisingly unsettling was the way hurting her was worse than hurting myself.

  No matter what I’m going to prove her wrong. She’s waiting for me to revert to my asshole behavior and if for no other reason than I hate to lose I’m going to stay strong.

  Our meeting breaks and I head straight to her office. Why? Because I invented the game she’s playing and I’m not having it.

  “Got a minute?” I stride into her office and set my notebook on the corner of her desk.

  “Uh, sure.” She takes a seat and kicks off her shoes.

  “We need to schedule my assimilation. Next week if you have time.”

  “Next week’s no good. Jack and I will be in London, remember?”

  She’s still not looking at me.

  I drum my fingers on the back of the chair deep in thought. “Alright, when you’re back. How long are you gone for?”

  “The entire week. Plus, I might stay a few days longer—I’ve never been to Europe. Maybe we can get thirty minutes together later this week to go over your communication plan for your staff before scheduling the actual assimilation.”

  An entire week? Suddenly not seeing her for that long doesn’t sit well.

  “Makes sense,” I agree. “Do you have time now?”

  “Not—”

  “Gabby,” Jack tears into her office, which is unfortunate because I’d really like to know how she was going to blow me off. “Change of plans for our trip. My wife fell last night and is having trouble walking. Her sister’s with her now but she doesn’t drive so I need to stay home to take her to appointments. I’ll be working from home for at least the next two weeks.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jack. Should I work with Helen to reschedule?”

  “No, no. Morale is down enough, they need face time to know how important they are even if I can’t be the one to do it this time around.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m sending Mike. He knows the employees and can speak to our strategy and reassure the teams.”

  “Jack that would be great but Mike’s on vacation next week. He’s taking his mother on a trip for her 60th birthday. He’s not going to cancel.”

  “Then I’ll tell him he can’t take the time off?”

  “That’s hardly fair,” Gabriella challenges Jack and I have to say it’s hot as hell seeing her take a stand against someone else. “It’s already approved and you’re canceling to attend to something personal as well. Just…no.”

  The words tumble out without having time to filter. “I’ll go.”

  Jack turns his attention to me. “I’ve been working on a different strategy for the European market, one that doesn’t involve divesting. Yes we need to meet with employees and reassure them of our commitment to them, but let’s do it with a plan in mind that doesn’t involve selling them off.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I walk Jack through my plan at a high level. Visits to customer sites to get them to see our portfolio from a new perspective. Focus groups to get an in depth understanding of our employee’s struggles with selling and supporting our products. Face time to reassure both customers and employees that our cost optimization strategy will revolutionize the market and that the competitive landscape is changing in our favor.

  “I haven’t met f
ace to face with the teams there and Gabriella has encouraged me to broaden my global presence. It’s the perfect time.”

  Jack considers my proposal, pacing the room. “Bring your final recommendations to me by end of day tomorrow.”

  He turns to Gabriella. “Looks like you have a new traveling companion. Change the European All-Hands meeting to small group sessions so employees get the chance to meet Lucas face-to-face. Focus on high-potentials and management for participants. I’ll have Helen change the North American All-Hands meeting to the week following your return and include the London team.” Jack continues to pace. “They’ll have just met Lucas so leveraging Telepresence should be fine.”

  “Let’s have it catered at both locations and consider sending Ted or Mike to the London office that week so there’s still a leadership presence,” Gabriella suggests.

  “Agreed.” Jack pats my shoulder. “Don’t get my hopes up, Lucas. There’d better be good news to share.”

  Gabriella stares out the door in Jack’s wake, looking less confident than she was seconds ago.

  “Guess the assimilation planning will have to wait,” I say, attempting to cut through the silence.

  “Let’s schedule it for two weeks from now. We’ll probably have down time one night to review our plan once we’re in London.”

  Is she thinking what a disaster it could be for the two of us to be alone, spending day in and day out with each other? Or is it the perfect opportunity to prove to myself that I can get past this attraction?

  “Good idea. So are you done ignoring me?”

  “You’ve blindsided me on more than one occasion. Just preparing myself for when the other shoe drops.”

  “I told you, I’m done with that.”

  “You’ve told me a lot of things. And now we’re going to be traveling together. You think that’s the best idea?”

  “I do. I’m going to prove to myself and to you that I can deal with this without cutting you out professionally. Friends, right?”

  She eyes me skeptically. “Right.”

  I nod and back out of her office. “I better get to work.”

  “How was your flight?”

  I come to a stop by Gabriella’s side at the baggage claim carousal. Even in a sea of people, wearing black skinny jeans, flats and a gray t-shirt with some pink design, it only took seconds to find her. Being the only pink suitcase on the conveyor belt, it takes less time to find her luggage.

  By the time Jack confirmed I’d be joining Gabriella for the trip her flight was already booked. It worked out perfectly. I’d been busy finalizing my plans so we hadn’t had much time together and after that kiss it was obvious neither of us were sure how to act. I haven’t yet worked out how you act as a friend when all I want to do is rip off her clothes.

  The worst part? The more I get to know her, the stronger my attraction toward her grows. And let’s not even begin to break down all ways I’ve imagined her tongue and lips on me. She's an even bigger distraction now than she was before, but like a bad accident I can’t turn away.

  “Glad to be on the ground,” she admits.

  “Couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “Tell that to the man next to me. The claw marks on his arm may need explaining to his wife.”

  Her clawing another man? That’s a visual I don’t need. Quickly, I replace it with images of her raking her nails down my back. Now that’s something I can live with.

  “Bad flier?” I ask, dragging her luggage behind me.

  “Not usually. Turbulence was rough. Once my Zanax kicked in though it was fine. Anyway, have you been waiting long?”

  “Two hours. Gave me time to get a rental squared away and to catch up on email.”

  I unlock the car and load her things into the trunk next to mine. Once in the car, I enter our destination into the navigation system and thank God it’s only a short ride. Confined quarters with her smelling good enough to eat isn’t helpful.

  At the hotel, Gabriella checks in first and then takes off to the bathroom. When she returns I’m waiting near the bank of elevators with our things.

  “What floor are you on?” she asks.

  “Six. You?”

  “Same.”

  We take the elevator and silently walk down the hallway, stopping at room 618. “This is me,” I tell her.

  She looks at her card and gives me a forced grin. “Looks like we’re neighbors.”

  I unload her luggage from cart as she unlocks her door. Setting her bags inside, I look around and memorize her room despite the likelihood of it being identical to mine. White bedding that will complement the subtle olive undertone of her skin. French doors leading out to a balcony. A door adjoining her room to mine. Fuck. Talk about easy access.

  “I’m gonna take a quick nap and unpack,” she says from barely inside the room.

  Pure. Fucking. Torture.

  I've got blue balls like you wouldn't believe that no amount of jacking off will cure. Barely a week into being friends and I know failure, in one way or another, is inevitable. I was better off trying to ignore her, convincing myself she was untrustworthy, someone who didn't deserve the time of day. Spending day in and day out around her is going to suck the life from me when what I really want is for her to be actually sucking me.

  “I’ll leave you to it then.” I back out of her room and get settled in mine.

  Instead of taking a nap I change and get in a workout. Lying in my bed while she’s in hers has me too riled up. I start with running six miles on the treadmill and follow it up with a circuit of weights and a few laps in the pool. I’m bone tired but that was the point. If I’m too tired to walk the stairs, there’s no way I could muster enough strength to give her the goods, and I’d never attempt to do that knowing I can’t give her my best.

  Somehow I convince my legs to take me to my room. After my shower I wrap the towel around my waist and sift through my clothes when there’s a knock at the adjoining door connecting our rooms.

  “Hey,” I say upon opening the door.

  Gabriella smells like she’s just showered too. Unfortunately she’s dressed. She’s wearing a pair of fitted jeans—different from the ones she wore getting off the plane—with a t-shirt, black blazer and black pumps. Not a thread of pink.

  And so begins the torturous mind game I play trying to decipher what pink undergarments she’s wearing. I go with a white thong and white bra, both with pink accents and maybe a bow.

  Drops of water stream down my chest and Gabriella traces their path with her eyes. She licks her lips and swallows as her eyes descend to my towel. Things are about to get interesting if she doesn’t look up. Unlike her, I can’t hide my reaction and seeing her aroused is all it takes to get me going.

  “I’d ask if I caught you at a bad time but you knocked on my door,” I remind her and thankfully her eyes dart upward.

  “Do you always answer the door half naked?”

  “I just got out of the shower.”

  “I can see that. Is something wrong with the hotel issues bathrobe that’s hanging inside your closet?”

  “You’ve been inside my closet?” I smirk.

  “Be serious.”

  “Never wear those robes. Do you have any idea how many people have worn those?”

  “Fewer people than have used that towel.”

  She gestures toward my towel with her hand and both of us look down. She’s got a point and also an eyeful since the terry cloth fabric is tenting out.

  Christ this is painful in more ways than one.

  “Did you have a reason for knocking?” I ask as if my erection isn’t an issue. “You look like you’re headed out.”

  “Um, I uh.” She clears her throat and shoves a stack of menus at me. “I’m hungry. Did you want to grab something to eat?”

  I take the menus from her hand. “Anything good?”

  “Depends on what you’re in the mood for.”

  My eyes lift to hers, holding her gaze and then return to t
he menus. “What do you want?”

  If she says a hot dog or sausage I swear on all that’s holy I’m ripping this towel off.

  “Nothing fancy,” she shrugs. “We could eat at the hotel restaurant.”

  “Are we talking burgers or—”

  Gabriella scoffs. “A burger? Not in London.”

  “What’s wrong with London burgers?”

  “Ever heard of mad cow disease?”

  “Are you serious?”

  She is. “I’m not eating meat outside the U.S. Summer travels all the time and has gotten sick more than once.”

  “This is a meat and potatoes kind of country. You won’t get anything but pub food downstairs at this hour. Room service might be the way to go if you’re going to be picky.”

  “Let’s just go downstairs and get some abs then.”

  I lose the fight to hide my grin as she picks up on her slip. “If you want abs I believe staying in is a better option.”

  I’m so tempted to offer her my meat and potatoes but refrain.

  “Apps! I meant apps. Whatever. Just throw some clothes on so we can figure it out.”

  Flustered Gabriella is adorable.

  “Give me five minutes.”

  In a huff she slams the door.

  The next morning I wake early enough to get in another workout and shower long before the alarm goes off. Afterwards I make a call to room service and knock on her door when it’s arrived. Gabriella opens the door wearing the hotel bathrobe and covering her eyes with one hand.

  “Is it safe?”

  Fighting a smile, I yank down her hand and invite her into my room to review the agenda for the day. “You’re half hour late for the show. Better luck tomorrow.”

  She ditches the robe, revealing a floral A-line dress with hues of pink, and her half-dozen bangle bracelets jingle when I hand her coffee.

  “If you keep making me coffee and having breakfast ready each morning I’m going to get used to it.”