As Marjorie fiddled with the cigarette, she studied Brigit’s face. “You’re a soccer fan. Am I right?”
She knows. Swallowing hard, she shot Colton a furtive glance. “I keep my sport obsession under wraps. What gave it away?”
Marjorie’s expression softened and a whisper of a smile kissed her lips. “You have soccer fan eyes.”
Hello, Mrs. Mic.
“I definitely missed something,” Red said.
“Yeah, I’m right there with you,” Dez said. “I’ve no idea what they’re talking about.”
“I like football.” Chad puffed his chest. “Can you tell?”
Giving Chad the once-over, Marjorie said, “D-1 linebacker. Where’d you play?”
Chad grinned. “Damn, you’re good. Virginia Tech.”
“Okay, if we’re done with the sports chitchat, let’s get started,” Colton said.
Marjorie stuffed the cigarette behind her ear and took off toward the elevator bank. A quick ride to the top floor, then Marjorie led them down the hall to the executive conference room. After walking in, Brigit gasped.
“Nice view, isn’t it?” Marjorie winked.
It wasn’t the familiar park-like setting or the duck pond that had her fighting the surge of emotion. Two beautiful oil portraits of Samantha and Nicholas Francesco adorned the far wall. Their likeness so real she wanted to throw her arms around them. But the paintings were also a harsh reminder that her parents were gone because of the selfish choice she’d made. Grief and guilt lodged in her throat and she turned away.
“Who are the portraits of?” Red plunked down at the lacquered mahogany conference table.
“Our company founders, Nicolas and Samantha Francesco.” Marjorie sat at the head. The rest of the Mitus team joined her.
“Did they retire?” Chad asked.
“They were killed in a drunk driving accident,” Marjorie said. “It was the single most tragic event in my life. I could talk about my dear friends for hours, but we’ll save the nostalgia for another day. Today is all about saving Francesco.” Marjorie glanced at Brigit.
Spurred by the determination in Mrs. Mic’s eyes, Brigit felt empowered. Fierce loyalty to Francesco flowed through their veins. And even though Brigit wasn’t privy to the wireless secrets or details surrounding the merger proposition, Colton believed she’d add value or he wouldn’t have insisted she go. For the first time since he’d told her she’d be joining him, her queasy stomach settled down.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Chad said.
“Thank you.” Marjorie flipped open her notebook. “Let’s get started, shall we? Yesterday Wilson Montgomery, MobiCom’s V.P. of Mergers and Acquisitions, sailed in here with an obnoxious take-charge attitude. The worst part is that Bob Dobb—our president— failed to mention the meeting. I saw them gallivanting around during the tour.”
“When do you anticipate an offer?” Dez asked.
“By Thanksgiving,” Marjorie said. “Dobb acted like a proud papa introducing the MobiCom team. All that was missing was a handful of cigars, which I’d have gladly shoved up his ass!”
Brigit snorted. Mrs. Mic hadn’t changed a bit.
“Sounds like you suspect Dobb of being more than a gracious host,” Red said as a second door at the far end of the room swung open and a squirrely man entered.
“Just because you can’t see his horns doesn’t mean they aren’t there,” Marjorie muttered under her breath.
Brash, bold and no holds barred Mrs. Mic.
After introductions, faux smiles, and a heavy dose of bullshit from Bob Dobb about how thrilled he was to see the Mitus team, he slipped into a seat next to Red. Everything about Dobb screamed average. But a mediocre leader wasn’t good enough for the Francesco Company.
“Bob, I’m in your seat.” But Marjorie didn’t move.
“We don’t stand on formalities,” Bob crooned. “Please stay where you are. Sitting here works.” He turned to Red and drew back his lips.
His leering smile made Brigit shiver. Creepy.
Bob shifted his gaze across the table to Colton. “Were you in the neighborhood, like MobiCom?”
“No, Bob, we weren’t.” Colton’s cold tone caught Brigit’s immediate attention. “Speaking of MobiCom, what prompted their visit? Sounds like your position has changed since we last spoke.”
Bob leaned back in the cushioned chair and rested his ankle over his opposing thigh, then clasped his hands behind his head. More relaxed he could not have looked. “Colton, I appreciate your directness. MobiCom floated a merger proposition. There’s no harm in listening, is there?” His disingenuous smile turned Brigit’s stomach as she spun the cold silver bracelet adorning her wrist. The president of the Francesco Company was terrible at talking out of both sides of his mouth.
Pinning him with a cold stare, Colton stayed quiet, save for the strumming of his fingers on the polished wood.
“But rest assured, listening is all I’m doing.” Bob continued. “I have no intention of championing a merger.”
Colton squared his shoulders. “What do they know about Crockett Boxes?”
Bob bolted upright. “Nothing! MobiCom’s offer is unrelated, though the timing couldn’t be better.”
“Better?” Marjorie’s eyebrows jutted up to her forehead. “We’re not announcing our deals with the wireless carriers until after they place their initial orders. The timing couldn’t be worse!”
“I disagree,” Bob said, shifting in his chair. “Seeing Francesco trending would be great publicity.”
“Yes, it would.” Colton glanced at Marjorie. “Thanks for stopping by, Bob.”
“We’ve made some improvements at the factory.” Bob turned toward Red. “How ‘bout I personally give you a tour?”
Refusing to acknowledge Dobb, Red locked eyes with Brigit across the conference table.
Weasel.
“Another time, Bob.” Colton rolled back his chair.
Marjorie stood. Meeting over. Brigit eyed the portraits one last time. After a brief and somewhat frosty goodbye to Dobb, the Mitus team followed Marjorie down the hall and into her spacious corner office. “Back in two minutes. I need a smoke or I’ll die.” Marjorie snatched the lighter from her desk and left.
Though Colton had his back to the team as he stared out Marjorie’s window, anger billowed off him. Not wanting to further aggravate him, Brigit remained quiet.
Nothing had changed in Marjorie’s office. The familiar tobacco smell hung like an invisible cloud, the cluttered desk had stacks of folders piled high, and the beautiful view of the duck pond brought back many special memories.
Turning to sit at the conference table, her mouth fell open. The back wall was covered with pictures she’d drawn or painted for Mrs. Mic. She saved everything. Brigit swallowed the plum-sized lump in her throat.
Red lifted a framed photo from Marjorie’s desk and turned it around. “Her daughter?”
It was a photo of a beaming six-year-old Eve Francesco, dressed as a warrior princess. Plastic shield in her outstretched hand, while her other hand clasped Marjorie’s. Marjorie had accompanied her mom and dad to the school Halloween parade. Oh no.
“Cute kid.” Colton stared at the photo for several seconds. “Hmm, that’s odd.”
“What?” Brigit stopped breathing.
“I’ve seen that child somewhere. Her eyes are so familiar.”
25
Sinful Pleasures
Colton pivoted in Brigit’s direction, then eyed the photo again. There was something special about that little girl. Brigit spun away and dropped into a chair at Marjorie’s conference table, then grabbed her water bottle and drained it.
“Gotta love a warrior princess!” As Chad sat next to Brigit he glanced at the busy wall. “Hello, that’s a lotta artwork.”
A squawking flock of geese landed on the pond and Colton turned back to stare out the window. Dobb was guilty as hell, but of what, he wasn’t sure. While Dobb was kowtowing to Montgomery, that didn’t mean he’d ba
red his soul and divulged company secrets. Or did it? With any luck, their string of afternoon meetings would yield answers. No one has more skin in the game than I do and no one will stop me from seeing his project through to fruition.
“Colton—” Brigit cleared her throat. “What’s our strategy to ensure the executive team votes down the merger?
“Great question,” Marjorie said as she shut the door. “I’ve scheduled in-person meetings or video conferences with each executive and board member. Let’s find that damn traitor.”
Marjorie had lunch delivered and immediately following they met with Francesco leadership, one at a time. Five hours later, the last person filed out. “That was exhausting.” Marjorie shut her office door.
Colton closed his laptop and leaned back. “They could be telling us what we want to hear while quietly campaigning for this merger.”
“A few seemed uncomfortable, but that didn’t mean they were lying,” Chad said.
“Colton, you alone can be intimidating,” Dez said. “The sheer number of us might have made some folks nervous.”
“Not if they’ve nothing to hide,” Colton said.
“That’s what worries me.” Marjorie pulled a cigarette from her desk drawer and tucked it behind her ear. “I don’t know who to trust at this point.”
Colton was beat, but not beaten down. “Marjorie, you did a great job pulling this together.”
“This baby means everything to me and I’ll defend her to my death.” Marjorie walked toward her door.
“Speaking of babies.” Red lifted the photo. “Is she yours?”
“No. That little girl is Eve Francesco, the only child of Nick and Sammy, but I loved her like she was my own. We spent Fridays after school together. I promised her mom I’d talk shop.” Marjorie snickered. “What child wants to learn about the day-to-day operations of a wireless and mobile products company? Don’t get me wrong. They adored their daughter, but they were obsessed about indoctrinating her into the business when she was a wee little thing. So I’d steal her away for creative time.” She gestured to the artwork.
Dez reviewed the list of meeting attendees. “Why didn’t we meet with her today?”
“She disappeared after their deaths and I couldn’t find her,” Marjorie said. “Losing her devastated me.”
“There was a lot going on when I bought Francesco, but I don’t recall meeting the owners’ daughter,” Colton said.
“You didn’t,” Brigit blurted.
The room quieted. Everyone looked at her.
Way to go, dummy. “Er, um, I…” Brigit’s cheeks heated.
“Chop, chop! Everybody out!” Marjorie threw open her door. “Time to catch a plane!” She shooed them into the hallway and bustled toward the elevators.
Thank you, Mrs. Mic.
The driver, waiting at the curb, exited the vehicle and popped the trunk. Marjorie lit up and inhaled. “God, I needed that.”
After they said their goodbyes, the five headed toward the waiting sedan.
“Oh, Brigit,” Marjorie called. “Can I borrow you for a quick second?”
Colton checked his watch. “We’ve got time.”
Brigit returned to Marjorie and the two huddled close.
Watching, Colton rested his arm on the roof of the car. “Those two seem cozy.”
“Brigit’s easy to like.” Dez opened the front passenger door and got in.
After a quick hug, Brigit ran-walked to the waiting vehicle. She slid inside and Colton followed.
“You two looked like old friends,” Red said.
Clearing her throat, Brigit said, “Nah, she’s in need of a new wealth management firm. I told her I’d connect her with Seth.”
Colton stole a glance as she swiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
“Whew, it’s windy here in Columbus,” Brigit murmured as the driver left the parking lot.
In silence, they rode to the airport. Their afternoon of intense meetings had changed Colton’s position on Dobb. He no longer bought Dobb’s bullshit story and wanted to wring his neck. From the get-go Dobb had been a staunch supporter of Crockett Boxes and advised Marjorie to keep things under wraps for as long as possible. And now, with product weeks from rollout, MobiCom had wormed their way into the picture. Coincidence? No fucking way.
Colton ground his teeth. He could lose Francesco. I need to let off some steam. After texting Vonn to bring the Mercedes to Dulles, he stared out the window as the blurred stream of blinding white lights whizzed past.
The flight home was as uneventful as the one to Ohio, something Colton never took for granted when he taxied the bird to a stop. While the quiet group waited for the valet to bring the Bentley around, Vonn pulled up.
“Thank you all for your efforts today,” Colton said. “I think we should prepare for a tough fight. Vonn will drive you home.”
“Later dude,” Chad said to Colton.
As Colton opened the Mercedes door, he glanced at his crew. Brigit stood on the sidewalk watching him. Even during the intense afternoon meetings at Francesco, the chemistry between them had been palpable. He sought her opinion and found himself looking at her even when she didn’t have the floor. He was attracted to her in more ways than he’d imagined.
He needed to pull her into his arms, take her into his bed, blanket her with his body and let her intoxicating essence soothe his troubled soul. But he couldn’t, which only made him want her that much more. Driving away he punched up his playlist and headed east onto I-66, toward D.C. His mind was cluttered. Time to clear his thoughts and relieve his stress.
Forty minutes later, he parked in the familiar lot and strode across the street to the unmarked door on Waterway Street in Georgetown. Three taps and the door opened.
“Hey, Big D, Spencer Lockhart,” Colton said.
The door opened and Colton stepped inside.
“How ya doin’, Mr. Lockhart?” Big D asked.
“Ready to unwind.” Colton set off down the short hallway. It dead-ended and he turned left into the large, low-lit room with several dining tables and a bar running the length of the mirrored wall, chock-full with top quality liquors. Background music was loud enough to make conversation an intimate experience, but he wasn’t interested in talking. He was there for one reason and one reason only.
Thursday night always brought a full house, but it was early. There were two small groups of women, a large group of men, and several couples. He sat at the end of the bar, ordered a Glenlivet, and loosened his noose of a tie. After undoing the top button to his dress shirt, he rubbed his aching neck. Tight didn’t even begin to describe his muscles.
Tossing back the whiskey, he ordered a second. With glass in hand, he headed toward the closed door in the back. As his eyes adjusted in the darkened hallway, he ducked into the second entryway on the left. A throaty growl escaped from the back of his throat. This is exactly what I need.
26
Uninhibited
Brigit would have piled into the Bentley and returned to the mansion if that lone taxi hadn’t been idling nearby. Where was Colton headed after such a long and stressful day? He’s doing something so kinky you’d blush at the thought. She had to know. Before Chad could object to her lame excuse about running a quick errand, or join her, she’d slammed the door shut.
“If you can stay on that black Mercedes-Maybach without letting the driver know, I’ll tip you a Ben Franklin,” she said to the taxi driver.
As the taxi raced down I-66, Brigit’s thoughts drifted to her private conversation with Marjorie.
“And just like that you return,” Marjorie said. “No explanation or advanced warning? I almost passed out when I saw you standing in the lobby.” She smiled. “I’ve thought about you every day since you vanished.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Brigit stepped a little closer. “I had to start my life over.”
Marjorie hugged her. “I’m afraid if I let go, you’ll disappear again.”
Brigit pulled back. �
�No, I won’t, Mrs. Mic.”
Marjorie heaved in a big breath. “We have to save Francesco. Can I count on you?”
“Absolutely. Please keep my identity a secret.”
Marjorie nodded. “Best get back to Colton. He doesn’t miss a thing.”
The taxi turned onto K Street in Northwest D.C. tailing behind Colton’s vehicle by two cars. By the time Brigit realized what a boneheaded move she’d made, they were already in Georgetown. Alone and vulnerable, she was an easy target. But Vinny Ray would had to have followed her to Columbus and followed her home. Possible, but farfetched.
“Okay, lady, now what?” asked the taxi driver.
“Pull in front of that unmarked entrance and wait for me. I’ll probably need a ride home.”
Colton had quickly slipped inside when it opened. Had she looked away, she would have sworn the man had vanished into thin air. But she’d not lost him as he’d raced down I-66 and she wasn’t about to lose him now.
“Take your time.” The driver stopped out front. “Meter’s running.”
Brigit handed the driver one hundred dollars, exited the taxi and banged on the metal door. It opened and a burly man stepped outside. “Can I help you?”
“I’m a guest of Mr. Mitus.”
“No Mr. Mitus here.” The man, clad in a T-shirt and Dockers, crossed his thick bare arms over his wide chest.
“Okay, then, I’m here to see Colton.”
“Look, ma’am, I got no idea who that is.” The man stepped back inside and started to close the door.
“Wait! I’m a friend of the tall man who just arrived. He was wearing a dark olive suit and has wavy hair to here.” She rested her hand on her suit collar.
The burly man shot her a cool smile. “I’ll see if he’s available.” He shut the door and left her standing on the dark street.
A few moments later the door flew open and Colton stepped outside, frustration rolling off him. He wore no smile. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Surely you can do better than that.” She gripped her hips.
“You followed me.”
THE MITUS TOUCH: Book One of The Touch Series Page 15