by K. A. Tucker
“Hey. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” That’s a self-serving declaration if I’ve ever heard one, but I’ll be able to remind him of it in the future, when he finds out about Kyle. It’s only a matter of time.
I note with surprise the cell phone spoon rest sitting on Dad’s desk, the twin to mine. The one that Dad sneered at weeks ago and wanted to throw out. I’m about to ask him about it when Tripp strolls in.
“Kieran! Good to see you again! Piper . . . don’t you look nice.” He barely glances at me.
I struggle not to roll my eyes and give my father the flattest “see?” look I can muster.
“Sounds like you’ve been putting in some long hours lately,” my dad offers as Tripp takes the vacant chair beside me.
“That’s because you’ve raised a slave driver.” Tripp chuckles, and it’s not the fake laugh that’s always directed at me. It’s the laugh of a man who is comfortable and pleased. Perhaps because he’s been granted an audience with the king again after what I’m guessing he deemed a demotion, having to report into me. Perhaps because he thinks this arrangement with KDZ is a lock.
“That’s what I like to hear.” My dad winks at me.
I stifle another urge to roll my eyes. Please tell me Dad’s swift enough to see that Tripp is using his weakness—me—to score points.
“So you’ve had a chance to go through the contract? It’s solid, right? I told you they were coming in strong. They really want this. More than Jameson, based on what I’ve seen.” Tripp speaks directly to my father, as if I’m not even in the room.
“And have you received the updated proposal from Jameson already? Did you forget to send that one to me, too?” I ask lightly, sliding my jab in.
Tripp offers me a forced smile. “No, I haven’t.”
“Then you’ll be getting it soon. Gary said it would be in today.”
“They’ve had plenty of time to deliver. More than KDZ.”
“They’re reworking their numbers to meet our new timelines,” I say, keeping my voice even.
He snorts. “What they’re doing is trying to make a rabbit appear out of a hat. I’ve seen this before, a hundred times. You’ll start to recognize it one day, don’t you worry.”
And there’s another condescending jab.
The urge to lean over and punch him is overwhelming. I grit my teeth into a smile. “By the way, how do you know this Hank Kavanaugh?”
“How do I know him?” Tripp shrugs. “I know him like I know all my contacts. Through years of carefully cultivating industry relationships.”
“A lot of golf, I’ll bet.”
“Yes, well . . .” He chuckles. “That’s how things have gotten done over the decades that your father and I have been at this.”
Well played, Tripp. Position yourself as equal to my father. Keep trying to make me look inexperienced and dumb. I’ll admit, I am inexperienced when you stack up résumés.
But I am not dumb.
“So that’s how you two met? Golfing?” I push.
His eyes narrow as he assesses me a few beats, as if searching for an answer. Why is she asking me this? What does she know? “We went to the same college. That was definitely a conversation starter for us.”
Actually, you two were roommates. Something I can’t blurt out without letting on that I’ve been digging into Tripp’s past. But that he didn’t mention it now . . . He’s hiding a potential conflict of interest. That’s another red flag.
Tripp waits another few beats and, when I don’t respond, turns back to my father. “Kieran, Hank is ready to commit today. You know where my head’s at on this and I’ve been around the block a few times.”
My dad regards him with his naturally steely eyes. “So have I.”
Tripp holds his hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is, I’m telling you, KDZ is the right move for the Marquee project.”
Dad’s lips twist in thought. I know that look. It’s the one he gets when he’s about to make a decision.
“I disagree,” I blurt out.
Tripp’s sigh is poorly concealed.
“Why?” my father asks evenly.
I don’t have much choice anymore. Still, I choose my words carefully, keeping my gaze on my father. “Because there is a rumor that KDZ has been known to offer kickbacks to secure contracts.”
“That’s bullshit!” Tripp bursts. “Where did you hear something like that?”
“A reliable source.”
“Who?” he demands to know.
I remain calm. “No one I am going to name at this time.”
“And so what are you implying, Piper? What, that I’m taking a kickback?” Tripp adjusts his position in his seat, the casual slouch replaced with stiff indignation. “After giving almost thirty goddamn years to your family’s company, you’re accusing me of that? Kieran?” He looks with bewilderment at my father.
“I’m sure that’s not what Piper is implying.” My father’s cold blue gaze lands on me and there is a distinct warning in there.
Meanwhile, Tripp’s face is flushed red with anger. It’s so convincing that my stomach sinks with dread. Is Kyle wrong about what he overheard?
What if I just made a horrible mistake?
I clear my throat, mainly to steady my voice. The worst thing I can do right now is come off sounding hesitant. “I have someone looking into the claim right now. If it turns up false, then I’m fine with considering KDZ’s proposal.”
Tripp sighs heavily, and gathers some level of composure. “Kieran, blowing up a solid contract because your daughter heard a rumor is a terrible business move.”
My dad’s eyes shift back and forth between us. “I agree.”
My mouth drops open. Did he just side with Tripp, again?
Rage and shock bubble inside me.
“But,” my father continues, staying my sharp tongue from letting loose something that I’ll no doubt regret—like, that I quit—“I don’t believe Piper would come forward with an accusation this serious if she didn’t have solid intel.”
I breathe the softest sigh of relief. And again, that twinge of dread surfaces. Is what Kyle overheard really “solid intel”?
Dad shuffles a stack of paperwork—he still refuses to review presentations digitally. “We need to see Jameson’s revised proposal and have the team weigh in before we make any decisions. Hank can talk to me if he has an issue with this. Piper, a word, alone.”
Tripp heaves his lumpy body out of his chair and storms off, leaving the door wide open.
“Greta! Door,” my dad barks. Moments later, Greta pokes her head in to quickly close it.
“What the hell was that!” Dad explodes in a rare burst. “When did you hear about this supposed kickback?”
My heart begins to race in my chest. “About a week ago.”
“A week!” His eyebrows crawl halfway up his head. “Who told you?”
“That’s not important—”
“The hell it’s not!” He picks up a pen, only to throw it across his desk. “Who is your source?”
“Did you know that Hank Kavanaugh and Tripp were roommates at Minden College? And they also played on a men’s soccer team, together,” I say instead. “That’s more than just a conversation starter.”
Dad stalls on whatever he was going to say. “So you are accusing Tripp of accepting a kickback. That’s why you think he’s gunning for this contract.”
“Not officially.” There’s no point denying it anymore. “But yes, I believe he has made a deal with Kavanaugh for a five-hundred-thousand-dollar payout.”
Dad’s angular jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Would you have believed me?”
“No. I still don’t.”
“Exactly. Which is why I’m doing more digging. I have them pulling Tripp’s phone records for all deleted text messages in case there’s something there.” That required a tense half-hour conversation with the VP of our phone company, who was more than reluctant, citi
ng a need to speak to his legal counsel first, until I asked him to verify for me how much our corporate bill was last year and when CG’s contract with them is up.
“He wouldn’t be that foolish.”
“He was foolish enough to have an open conversation on his phone about it.” Arrogance and bitterness make people do stupid things.
“Who overheard him?” he pushes. “Jill? Mark? I know it wasn’t David. He would have told me.”
I fold my arms over my chest and press my lips together tightly.
He sinks into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do not like being blindsided, Piper.”
“I’m sorry. I was afraid you were about to make a huge mistake by agreeing to this.”
He spins in his chair, turning his back to me as he gazes out over the city again. “Let me know what you find. And don’t ever say I didn’t back you.”
I take this as my dismissal, and leave my seat to head for the door.
“Did David tell you about dinner tonight?” He spins back around, and suddenly he looks ten years older than he did when I walked in here.
“No.”
“He’s meeting with Drummond tonight to try to lock them in.”
The anchor tenant for the Waterway project. Right. “Okay?”
“I was going to go with him but something’s come up for me tonight, and I think you should go.”
Warning bells go off. Is this another attempt to get David and me back together? “Dad—”
“This is business, Piper,” he snaps. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if you two screw each other or kill each other after dessert, as long as we have an anchor tenant nailed down before the unveiling ceremony next month!”
I hold my hands in the air, in surrender. “Okay. We will take care of it.”
“Good. That’ll be all,” he mutters, his focus already shifting to his paperwork.
I duck out before he can bark at me about anything else, balling my fists to hide my shaking hands. I don’t know that he’s ever yelled at me like that before. The news about Tripp’s potential deceit must be hitting him hard.
Then again, I can’t blame him for reacting that way. The Waterway project is worth well over a billion dollars. He’s right; we need to nail this tenant. That he’s entrusting me to do it is a big sign of approval. He would never use an important business meeting like that for something as trivial as setting David and me up for a reconciliation. I’m an idiot for thinking otherwise.
I start to laugh.
“Is everything okay, Piper?”
I turn to see Greta peering down over her reading glasses at me, her wrinkled hands paused over her keyboard. I’ve known the woman all my life. She has a severe gaze and it used to scare me when I was little.
“Yes, it’s fine.”
Because my dad is finally treating me like a worthy colleague.
With a sigh of disappointment, I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Kyle, to change plans.
“Do you need anything else done today, David?” Renée peers up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes from behind her desk, her pen poised to take notes.
“I’m good, Renée. You’ve been here since eight? Go home. See you in the morning.” He flashes his signature panty-dropping smile—that’s literally what I’ve heard him call it—and then falls into step beside me as we head toward the elevator. With traffic, we’ll just barely make our dinner reservation with Drummond.
“You’re happier than a peacock in front of a mirror today,” I murmur.
“She brought me an apple,” he whispers with excitement. “I came in and there it was, just sitting on my desk, like a gift.”
“How long before you find her sitting on your desk like a gift, I wonder.”
David’s manicured eyebrows arch with surprise. “Is someone finally jealous?”
I laugh. “Just please don’t do anything that will earn you a sexual assault allegation.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t shit where I eat.”
I step into the elevator with a cringe. “Nice. Plus, have you already forgotten?” I waggle a finger between us.
“That was different.” He hits the ground-floor button.
“Why? Because of my position?”
“Which one, exactly? I’ve seen you in so many.” He smirks, proud of himself for that tasteless joke.
I simply shake my head.
“What’s with Kieran today, anyway? He nearly bit my head off.”
“That’s my fault.”
“What’d you do?”
“I ambushed him. But I can’t get into it. What do I need to know about tonight?”
The elevator doors open, letting us out into the lobby.
“Drummond wants to sign, but . . .”
David’s words drift as my attention veers to the security desk, to the tall, solid figure leaning against it, talking to Roland, the nighttime security guard who never smiles. It’s half past six, well after Kyle’s shift change. Still, he lingered. I’d like to think it was so he could see me before my dinner meeting, even though he’s coming to my place afterward.
He turns to watch me approach, his eyes drifting down the length of my body, the smile on his lips mischievous.
Flashes of yesterday in his condo hit me—of what’s beneath that uniform, of what his hands feel like on me, of what his weight feels like on me—and my body begins to heat.
Just one business dinner and then he’s mine again, I remind myself. God, this workday feels as long as the ones at Wawa.
“Piper?” David nudges me.
“Hmm?”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“No. Sorry. What?”
“We’re playing good cop, bad cop tonight. You’re bad.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re terrible at kissing ass.”
“Fine.” He’s right, I am.
He glares ahead. “What’s with that security guard?”
My stomach tightens. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the guy just stripped you with his eyes. You didn’t notice?”
I feel my cheeks flush. “No. And don’t say anything to him,” I warn as we approach the security gate. “Good night, guys.”
Roland simply nods, his face wearing its usually stony mask.
“Have a good night, Miss Calloway.” Kyle’s voice is practically dripping with promise, his eyes so heavy on me that I have to avert mine.
“Good night, Kyle.”
We’ve made it halfway to the exterior doors when David’s legs suddenly stall. “Oh . . . You have got to be kidding me.”
“What?”
He cocks his head at me, then looks back at Kyle, who’s still leaning against the desk, watching us, then turns back to me, his eyes shining with awareness. “You’re screwing the building security guard?” he hisses with disbelief.
Oh, shit. I close my eyes. For such an obnoxious ass, sometimes David surprises me with how in tune he can be.
His head falls back with a bellow of laughter.
“I’m not!” I glance around quickly. Thankfully no one’s within earshot.
“Oh give me a break, Piper. We were together for two years. I can practically smell the pheromones pouring off you.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Really?” He mock-frowns. “I think I’ll go ask him.”
I sink my nails into David’s forearm before he takes a step. “Don’t, David.”
“Then start talking. I think I have a right to know before everyone else when my ex-fiancée is rebounding with the help.” David’s amusement over this has faded quickly.
“It’s not like that. I’ve known him for years. And he’s not the help.” I steal a glance Kyle’s way. The smile and easy stance are gone, and he’s heading this way. I hold up a hand to stall him. Thankfully, he stops.
“So this is why Kieran was so pissy today? How is this guy still in the building?”
“No, that has nothing to do with Kyle. Th
at’s because of the kickback with Tripp.”
This time David’s jaw drops. “Come again?”
“We don’t have time to stand here and do this right now, David. We’re gonna be late.”
He glances at his watch. “It’s a fifteen-minute cab ride over. Start talking.”
I glance back once at Kyle, to see his narrowed eyes. It’s fine, I mouth. Though I don’t know if I believe that. Barely twenty-four hours and we’ve already been found out, by the one guy who will go running to my father.
Kyle is sitting on the park bench across from my building when my cab pulls up at half past nine, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, his arm resting on his backpack. The mere sight of him there, waiting for me, gets my blood racing.
I pay the driver and then slide out of the taxi, just as Kyle rounds the back end of it.
“I thought you were going to wait for me inside?” I sink into his firm body, reveling in the scent of his soap and cologne as my hands slide over his side, smoothing over his back. “Did Ashley not let you up?”
“It’s okay. It’s a nice night out.” He wraps his arms around me. “I wanted to meet you down here.”
“I’m sorry. Dinner took way longer than I expected it to.” I stretch onto my tiptoes and press my mouth against his, releasing a moan at how soft his lips are. “I have been waiting all day to do that.”
“I know. Me, too.” He pushes a wayward strand of hair off my face. “How did your meeting go?”
“Which one?” I grumble. David forced me to go for a drink with him afterward to grill me on all things Kyle and kickbacks. He knows everything now. My summer at Wawa, the payout from my father, how Kyle overheard Tripp. Everything. “We’ve got our anchor tenant. Contracts are getting signed this week.” It took David’s silky tongue and me faking reluctance while agreeing to bend on a few minor clauses, but it’s as good as done.
Kyle’s golden eyes twinkle with amusement. “I have no idea what that means.”
I pull away, slipping my hands into his. “Well, then come inside and let me teach you all about the thrilling world of real estate development.”
“What was all that with Mr. Maserati in the lobby?”