WickedTakeover

by Tina Donahue

  Although Lauren should have expected Karen’s enthusiasm, given her previous emails, such warmth still floored her. Lauren had grown too accustomed to third-degree interviews and snarky comments. Finally, she started to relax and have hope. If she could actually get this great job after so many months of rejection, maybe she and Dante could work things out. Someday, he might even feel about her as she did for him. Anything was possible, right?

  “Please come in,” Karen said, ushering Lauren into the conference room where two other staff members waited, one male, one female, both middle age. They, like Karen and the receptionist, gave Lauren friendly smiles.

  Buoyed, she fairly danced inside.

  After introductions were finished, Karen spoke first. “We’re very excited about this new opportunity, Lauren.”

  She nodded, her pulse picking up.

  “It involves taking over a new division,” Karen explained, tapping a stack of papers near her. “We’ve acquired another company and need a solid professional to make certain everything runs smoothly.”

  “Of course,” Lauren said.

  Karen fairly beamed at that comment. “The company is willing to pay for relocation expenses. We need someone to start as soon as possible. There’s a lot to be done.”

  Lauren had stopped nodding moments earlier, not certain she’d heard correctly. “Relocation?”

  “Our newest acquisition is in Pensacola. We’re keeping their current staff until we can eliminate duplicate positions. We want onsite HR to make the transition less traumatic. Once that’s over, the HR director there will operate as an arm of this parent office.” Karen leaned closer and spoke conspiratorially. “We’ve learned it’s best to have local representation for staff. A part of the job will be to make everyone feel valued and listened to in order to reduce problems for management.”

  Lauren nodded absently, her mind still stuck on Pensacola, more than six hundred miles from West Palm Beach. Too far to drive for lunch or to visit on a regular basis.

  She glanced at the papers Karen slid toward her. At the top was the salary offer, an astounding amount that made Lauren’s breath catch. She hadn’t come close to making that much at her last position, nor had her title been as great as this one. It was her entry into the big time.

  Peter, the middle-aged guy who was the company director, spoke of the job’s enormous potential, the growth opportunities it offered.

  Lauren’s head continued to swim while her belly clenched.

  After he wound down, Abby took over. She was Peter’s right-hand person and assured she’d be available to offer assistance. “We want to make this as comfortable for you as possible,” she explained.

  They wanted her. Really wanted her. A wave of surprise and sadness hit so hard, Lauren felt vaguely ill.

  Karen studied her closely then said, “We’ll need your answer by Tuesday as we want to move quickly on this. Please feel free to have your attorney go over our offer.” She slid several documents across the table to Lauren. “If you have any questions in the interim, you can call me at home.” She pulled a business card from her pocket and wrote the number on the back.

  Lauren was grateful her hand didn’t shake when she took the card. “Thanks.”

  “Thank you,” Karen said. “Do you have any questions about what we’ve discussed so far?”

  Lauren couldn’t think of any except why they wanted her to move so far away and why everything had to be so needlessly complicated in life. Why couldn’t this have been a job offer in this office? Why did she have to choose between what she needed to do and what she really wanted but would never have?

  That, of course, settled everything, didn’t it?

  As her chest ached with sorrow, Lauren went on autopilot, behaving like she should, asking how she could best serve the company. What the timeline was for the milestones they wanted her to hit. She next offered suggestions for the transition that had all of them smiling.

  At last, she was talked out and wrung dry. Everyone joked for a few minutes and then the meeting ended on a casual note. As though they’d all been friends for years.

  Smiling as broadly as they did, Lauren shook their hands and left.

  For forty minutes she sat in her car, staring into space, not wanting to think, afraid to feel. If anyone had told her six months ago she’d be behaving like this after getting a great offer, she would have told them they were insane.

  She didn’t know what to do. Where to go.

  At last, Lauren drove aimlessly even though it ate up too much gas. She even ran her air-conditioning. There wasn’t much of a choice. She was sweating badly then trembling with cold shakes. Stopped at a light, she glanced at the time and suddenly recalled her appointment with the parlor’s potential buyer, Mike Murreski.

  Oh shit.

  The first chance she got, Lauren made a U-turn and headed back to West Palm Beach. Starbucks.

  Mike was at one of the tables inside, looking remarkably similar to his photos on the net. A handsome man, fortyish or so, he had a full head of hair that had already turned silver. His tan enhanced his masculinity. Noting her suit, and that she was the only one here dressed like that, he waved her over.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said.

  “It’s only been a few minutes. Can I buy you a coffee?”

  Despite the chilled air in here, Lauren couldn’t seem to stop perspiring. Her heart continued to pound. “I’ll have an ice tea.”

  Mike ordered then brought their drinks to his table. “I have to say,” he began, “I was very impressed with your presentation and video. Did you shoot it yourself?”

  She’d taped it one morning before Dante and the others had arrived, not wanting to bum them out with what she was doing. Lauren nodded.

  Mike smiled, showing dazzling white teeth. She wondered if his tongue or any other part of his body was inked. His arms weren’t.

  “Well then,” he said, “let’s get started. “I won’t make this difficult. I’m definitely interested in buying Wicked Brand.”

  Everything started spinning again.

  “The price is fair,” he continued. “I love the building and what you’ve done with it.”

  “Van Gogh did all the artwork,” she said, pressing her palms against the cold plastic cup, hoping it’d cool her down. “It was already there when I inherited the parlor.”

  Mike rested his beefy forearms on the table. “About Van Gogh. That kid’s a genius. I intend to give him a huge raise right off.”

  Lauren found her first real smile of the day. “He’ll love that.”

  “I’ll have him train the rest of the staff, see if he can get them up to speed with what he does.”

  “Oh no.” She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Dante doesn’t need any more training. He’s fine as he is.”

  Mike looked confused. “Dante?” He grew thoughtful for a moment then nodded. “Of course, the manager.”

  “He’s also a tattoo artist.”

  “I thought he only managed the place.”

  “No.” Lauren frowned. Hadn’t he read what she’d written about Dante? “He inks and keeps the parlor running smoothly.”

  Mike finished his sip of black coffee. “I’m certain he does, but I have my own manager and crew. The young girl, Jade is it?”

  Lauren’s throat continued to tighten. “Jasmina.”

  He nodded. “She’ll be let go like Dante. My company will give them a very nice severance package,” he added quickly. “And a bonus to stay on to train my crew on Wicked Brand’s operation. That shouldn’t take longer than two weeks.”

  Lauren felt the blood draining from her face.

  Mike pulled a sheaf of papers from his leather tote. “I’ve spelled out everything here. If we agree on terms, I’d like to take over as soon as possible.”

  Lauren stared at the papers, reluctant to touch them.

  “If you have any legal questions concerning my offer,” Mike said, “you can contact my attorney. His number’s
at the top of the first sheet.”

  She didn’t bother to look.

  Mike waited a moment then said, “I’ll need your attorney’s name, should I have any questions.”

  Lauren didn’t know what to say. The only lawyers she knew were the one who’d handled Frank’s estate and Dante. How in the hell was she supposed to tell him about this? How could she begin to soften the blow? Wicked Brand wasn’t the sum total of his life, not with his legal talent, but it had offered him a chance to heal from what he thought he’d done. Frank’s friendship had surely helped. Now both he and the parlor were history.

  She would be gone soon too, leaving Dante where she’d been when Lauren had first walked into the parlor. Alone, tossed aside, searching for a job.

  Dante kept checking the time on his computer. Lauren had been gone for more than six hours. No interview he knew took that long unless the powers-that-be had taken her to dinner. Even with that, no meal lasted for five hours. He’d already checked all the area hospitals to see if she’d been in an accident. Thankfully, she hadn’t. He’d called her cell. She hadn’t answered. He couldn’t leave a message since her voicemail was full.

  Edgy, Dante went to the front of the parlor again. Van Gogh and Jasmina had left a half-hour ago. Before she’d taken off, Jasmina had asked repeatedly about Lauren, wanting to know if she’d gotten the job.

  All Dante could do was lift his shoulders. “I know as much as you do,” he’d said.

  She’d wagged her finger at him. “If you’d pursued her like you should have, she wouldn’t be leaving us.”

  Dante had wanted to laugh and sigh. He’d made love to Lauren as he hadn’t with any other woman. He’d shared more laughs with her than he’d done with any guy. Not to mention paddling her when she’d been bad, which was often since she liked being spanked. What the fuck else was he supposed to have done, declare his undying love? The thought of her rejecting him, saying they shouldn’t see each other again made Dante queasy. “She needs a real job in her field, Jasmina. Wicked Brand isn’t her field.”

  “Why not?” She planted her hands on her hips. “She can’t do human resources here? You, Van Gogh and I aren’t human?”

  “You and I are,” he conceded. “Now Van Gogh?”

  Jasmina slapped his arm. “I’m serious.” Her cell phone rang. “I gotta go.”

  The last he’d seen of her she’d been jogging down the street toward the fast food joint where her boyfriend worked.

  Dante returned to his station and checked the time again. Where in the fuck are you? Lauren couldn’t have started work already. What job required that on the same day as the interview? He debated going home, getting his pickup and driving to the company where she’d interviewed to see if her car was still in the lot. If it were, he’d drive away. She’d never have to know he’d been there. If it wasn’t…

  He’d worry about that later. After shutting down everything in his station, Dante hurried to the front of the shop and flinched. Lauren stood just inside the door. She’d taken off her suit jacket and looked beyond wilted. Her eyes were red and puffy with mascara smudges beneath them.

  Shit, shit, shit. They’d turned her down. Fucking a-holes. “It’s okay,” he murmured. Moving first, he gathered Lauren in his arms and rubbed her back. “There’ll be other opportunities. Better ones. They must have been nuts not to have—”

  “I got the job. All I have to do is say yes.”

  Dante frowned, not understanding and eased back to see her face. Her eyes glistened with new tears. “It wasn’t what you wanted? It’s a lesser position?”

  “It’s in Pensacola. Six hundred miles away.”

  Everything went still for a moment then reality slammed into Dante, leaving him stunned. That much distance meant he couldn’t see her on even a semi-regular basis. At least, not in the physical sense. There could always be computer or phone chats, but who did that for any length of time? Once she left, she’d really be gone.

  His belly twisted so hard, the pain nearly knocked him down.

  He wanted to tell her to stay, but couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. It’d be beyond selfish. He’d been that way before with his fucking cases and the plaintiffs he’d hurt. He couldn’t do it again, especially not to her.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” she asked.

  “Yeah, of course.” His gut continued to ache. “Is it a good opportunity for you?”

  She covered her eyes with her hand. “It’d be a good opportunity for anyone. A great title. More money than I’ve ever seen. A chance to move up in the company.”

  Dante didn’t want to hear any more but wouldn’t turn away. She deserved his support. He tried to sound enthused when all he wanted to do was get drunk and pass out. “Then you did the right thing by accepting.”

  Lauren dropped her hand. “Haven’t you been listening? I have until Tuesday to give them my decision. They told me to run their offer by my attorney. Outside of the guy who handled Frank’s affairs, you’re the only other lawyer I know.”

  He stepped back. “You want me to look over the paperwork?” She wanted his help to get her out of his life? Fuck no. No goddamn way would he do that.

  “I’m sure Mike wouldn’t think that was such a good idea,” she said. “Of course, Mike doesn’t know you’re a lawyer.”

  “Mike?”

  “The guy who wants to buy the parlor,” she said.

  Christ. This was getting worse by the minute. “You sold the place too?” All in one pissing afternoon?

  She continued to breathe hard. “He wants my attorney to look over his papers. He loves Van Gogh. Wants to give him a raise.”

  Dante’s thoughts were still spinning. He mumbled, “Good. Van Gogh deserves it.”

  Lauren frowned. “You do too.”

  He made a face. “I don’t care about money.”

  “I know. You should.”

  He growled, “I have all the money I need.”

  “You don’t have any goddamn thing,” she snapped, making fists. “He wants to replace you with his own manager. Jasmina too. Both of you will be gone in two weeks just as soon as you train the other crew to take over.”

  Everything went quiet again.

  Dante finally understood that this was really it.

  No wonder Lauren had taken so long to return and had been crying when this should have been the happiest day of her life. She’d been scared to tell him the truth that it was over, just like that.

  Or maybe it had never begun.

  Dante cleared his throat and tried to sound nice when his first urge was to put his fist through the goddamn wall. “If you want, I’ll tell Jasmina tomorrow. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this as easy as possible on—”

  “Easy? I’m dying here, can’t you see that?” She got in his face and spoke through her teeth. “Do you want me to go that badly? If you do, say it, dammit. I want to hear the words.”

  “What are you talking about?” he snapped back. “You’re the one who wanted an HR job. I’m trying to be supportive.”

  “So you do want me to go. What we did together was no fucking big deal for you. It was just screwing around with the help.”

  “The help? Have you lost your damn mind?” Dante jabbed his thumb into his chest. “I’m the pissing help.”

  “Since when? You’re the one who’s always been in charge of this place and me, and you damn well know it. I remember every fucking thing you said, even if you don’t.” She made her voice low-pitched like his. “No more panties from now on. I want you wet whenever I’m near. You have to wear a skirt. No bra either.” She hollered in her normal voice again. “Like I’d ever fucking do that.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You said you liked it.”

  “The games, not going without a bra. What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see how big I am?”

  Dante clenched his jaw and moved closer, crowding her. “Don’t you ever, and I do mean ever, say that again. There is nothing wrong with your goddamn figure.”

>   “Except it’s too big, and I’m not pretty enough, and—”

  “Not pretty enough? Are you blind? You’re beautiful.”

  She bounced on her heels and clenched her fists. “You’re just being nice. You’re too fucking kind. With your great looks and good heart every woman who meets you wants you.”

  He backed up a step and shouted, “Now you’re accusing me of flirting again?”

  “You don’t have to,” she cried. “Even if you don’t notice them, women still want you. That’s why you want me gone.”

  “The hell I do,” he yelled. “I don’t want you to leave ever. I’ve never wanted you to do that, but I don’t have the right to ask you to stay.”

  “Why the fuck not? Don’t you care for me at all?”

  “Care for you? Hell, it goes way beyond that. I fucking love you even though I haven’t a goddamn clue how you really feel about—”

  Lauren threw herself into his arms, stopping Dante’s words. He staggered then righted himself and her.

  “You love me?” she cried. “Really?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Oh my god, I’ve never wanted anyone like I do you.” She pressed her face to his neck. “I don’t want to take the job. I don’t want to sell the parlor. You can’t make me, dammit.”

  Like he was trying to? This had gotten so out of hand, Dante finally told himself to get a grip. Grasping Lauren’s biceps, he eased her back. “Baby, I’m not trying to make you do anything. That’s not my call. It’s yours. If you’re worried about me, hell, I’m a big boy. I’ll find another job. I just want you to be happy.”

  “Do I look it?”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, taking her mascara with it. Her mouth trembled. She could barely catch her breath. If he hadn’t loved her, Dante would have thought she looked like hell. “No. But you have to be sure, Lauren. These are great opportunities for you. Think of the money.”

  “Screw the money.” She sniffed. “I want you more.”

  Oh god. Dante pulled her back into his arms and held her as hard as he dared, afraid if he let loose he’d crush her. “You won’t regret it?”