The Deal With Triplets
Holly Rayner
Contents
The Deal With Triplets
1. Zoe
2. Zoe
3. Zoe
4. Zoe
5. Lucas
6. Zoe
7. Lucas
8. Zoe
9. Zoe
10. Lucas
11. Zoe
12. Lucas
13. Zoe
14. Zoe
15. Zoe
16. Lucas
17. Zoe
18. Zoe
19. Lucas
20. Lucas
21. Zoe
22. Zoe
23. Zoe
24. Zoe
The Baby Miracle
1. Kendall
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The Deal With Triplets
Copyright 2019 by Holly Rayner
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.
All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Zoe
April
Snoozing my alarm had seemed like a good idea at the time, a rare treat for me during the workweek. Now, though, I had twenty-five minutes to put on enough makeup to look human and make it twelve blocks away to the office. Caffeine was necessary, too.
Even skipping out on my usual morning workout hadn’t been enough to make up the time. I had to choose between coffee and timeliness, and coffee always won. After all, you didn’t get to be a top marketing executive by snoozing on the job. Coffee was my lifeline.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes with one hand and painted on my foundation with the other. I didn’t want to be the woman everyone said “Wow, you look sick today” to just because I’d foregone my usual makeup. Margie, one of the marketing assistants on my team, had ditched makeup for a few days last month after having an allergic reaction to a new concealer, and I’d heard at least three or four colleagues ask if she’d had a bad night’s sleep or come down with a cold.
I normally prided myself on being put-together, but today felt like some sort of alternate universe. I’d chosen sleep over work. Who was I?
Skipping eyeliner and hoping that mascara would suffice, I grabbed my jacket off the counter and ran out of my penthouse condo. It was moments like these that I regretted having chosen a top floor condo in a building that seemed to have the world’s slowest elevator. Ignoring the soles of my high heels digging into my feet, I ran down five flights of stairs as fast as I could, briefcase in one hand, cell phone in the other.
Depending on my mood, my timing, the weather, and sometimes even my outfit, I switched off between walking to the office and taking a taxi. Despite my lack of punctuality today, seven years of living in Chicago had taught me that waiting for an available taxi and sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic would likely take longer than power walking.
The black pencil skirt I had settled on was short enough to not look matronly, but long enough that I could shuffle through the city streets without worrying about flashing anyone. With each breathless step around businessmen on their cell phones and parents corralling their young children, I regretted staying up for last night’s throwback movie marathon more and more. What had I been thinking?
A man at a newspaper stand stepped out in front of me, stopping me dead in my tracks and nearly causing me to face-plant on the sidewalk.
“Oh. I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said.
I wasn’t sure if I should be annoyed or appreciative. I couldn’t ignore that, unlike most people who’d bumped into me on the streets in the past, he’d at least taken the time to apologize. On the flip side, though, he’d made me worry that I looked much older than my 29 years with his use of the word “ma’am.” Maybe I’d have to look into some new moisturizer when I had a chance.
Barre, spin, and kickboxing classes five times a week had certainly prepared my legs for the race to work. I’d have to look at the barre schedule for tonight to see if there was a class I could take to make up for missing my usual Monday morning class.
Mocha Madness looked even more appealing than usual, probably because I was running on six hours of sleep instead of my usual eight. I pulled open the door with a renewed excitement at the start of a fresh week. Coffee simply had that effect on me. I hoped Erin hadn’t skipped out on making my usual café mocha just because I was a few minutes later than usual. I scurried toward the line as quickly as I could without looking like a madwoman.
Just steps from the end of the too-long line, I found myself colliding with a man carrying a to-go cup of coffee. The coffee, still steaming, splashed all over the floor of the coffee shop.
“Oh, my goodness!” My voice was frantic. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
The man I’d bumped into looked up from his spilled coffee to me, and I got a look at him for the first time. It might have been from all the romantic comedies I’d stayed up late watching, but I was fairly certain he was the best-looking man I’d ever seen. He had piercing blue eyes and a chiseled jawline that was envy-worthy.
“I’m fine,” he said, as if I’d simply asked how his day was going instead of spilling his scalding-hot coffee. “Really, don’t worry about it.”
His voice had a hint of an accent, subtle enough that I hadn’t heard it in the first few words he’d spoken. It was French, as far as I could tell. I felt my heart rate speed up, a combination of humiliation and infatuation.
“Please let me buy you another one,” I said. “It’s the least I can do. Maybe a croissant, too! Or a muffin. They have great coffee cake muffins here.” I realized I was rambling and stopped speaking to keep from embarrassing myself further.
“That’s quite all right. Please, forget this ever happened! It’s no big deal. But I will let you tell me about that muffin.”
I stepped up in line, and he followed.
“Oh, Jamie makes them fresh every day. The coffee cake one has cream filling in the middle, which most people don’t expect, so it’s usually a nice surprise. Except I just ruined it for you.” I couldn’t remember ever sounding so lame. I wasn’t exactly a smooth talker with the guys, but I also wasn’t usually quite so awkward-sounding.
The man smiled at me. “You must come here often.”
“Just about every day.” I smiled back at him.
I couldn’t be sure, but I was picking up a sort of vibe between us. It sounded ridiculous, given that all we’d spoken about was spilled coffee and muffins, but our eyes were locked in a way that made my hands clammy and my legs weak.
He started talking again. “This is my first time here. Actually, it’s my first time in Chicago.”
I half-listened, half-stared as he told me how he was in town on business and had stumbled upon Mocha Madness by accident and taken the long line to mean it must be good.
“Hey, Zoe,” Erin chirped from behind the counter. “A bit late today, huh? I’ve got yours all ready to go.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “I actually need to add another coffee to the order.”
I gestured to the tall specimen standing next to me, and Erin took the hint.
“What can I get for you?” she asked him.
I was grateful for her subtlety, especially given the fact that she had likely been the one to take his order the firs
t time around, just minutes earlier.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Another café mocha, coming right up.”
I handed Erin my debit card, then she simultaneously swiped it and grabbed my to-go cup from beside her, our usual exchange. Nervous, I stepped to the side to wait for the other coffee.
“I’m Lucas, by the way,” the man said, his calm demeanor reaffirming that he was far less fazed by this situation than I was.
I couldn’t believe how clumsy I’d been. I’d been to this café probably a thousand times over the years I’d been working for Borroni Chocolates, and this was only the third time I’d bumped into someone carrying coffee, the other two times were the other person’s fault.
I reached out my hand. “I’m Zoe.”
He chuckled, but took my hand and shook it. His warmth radiated my skin.
“I got that. Unless you use a decoy name when ordering your coffee.” He took me by surprise by reaching out and taking the coffee cup from my other hand. “I’ll take this one. It’s been sitting for a while. You can have the fresh one.”
“Are you—”
“Will you be getting coffee here again tomorrow?” His subtle accent was easy to understand but still completely swoon-worthy.
I could feel the heat on my cheeks. “I will,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
He walked toward the side door and turned back around as he pushed it open. “Then I guess I’ll see you then.”
I stared through the glass doors until he was out of sight. Erin plopped the second cup of coffee on the nook reserved for completed orders, jolting me back to reality.
“You’ve got good taste,” she said. “And the café mocha isn’t half bad either.” She grinned before returning to the long line of customers waiting for her attention.
So Erin had seen it, too. She wouldn’t have made a remark unless it had seemed like more than just someone replacing a spilled coffee. I’d have to ask her about it. We weren’t exactly best friends, but we were close enough that I could ask her for her read on the situation. The two of us chatted regularly, especially when I came back during the day for an afternoon jolt and the café was fairly empty.
Erin’s comment about me being late today resonated in my mind, reminding me that I’d been in a massive rush and instead had taken my sweet time. I looked down at my watch, bracing myself for the worst. I was already three minutes late, and I had another block and a half to walk.
I yelled a quick thanks to Erin and hurried out the door. Tuning out the rest of the pedestrians around me, I walked swiftly until I reached my destination.
My boss, Nicolo Borroni, was a sweet as could be, but he was a stickler for punctuality. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me slipping in a solid seven minutes after the start of the workday. My on-time record was nearly perfect, and I knew deep down that one tardy wouldn’t make or break my career, especially since I was a vice president of the company, but I would’ve rather saved the lateness for when I actually needed it. This lateness was purely a result of wanting to escape my perpetually single existence and watch romance movies.
As I walked through the rows of cubicles on the way to my office, I couldn’t help but notice that no one seemed to be where they were supposed to be. Could a few minutes of tardiness really have thrown off my routine that much?
There were groups of two and three people scattered around the office, whispers filling the unusually quiet room. I continued on to my office, opting to drop off my briefcase and coffee before investigating.
A few of the sales team members mumbled in the corner by the water cooler and quieted as I drew closer. I considered the possibility that everyone was talking about me—maybe my slightly disheveled appearance or late start to the day—and wrote that off as pure ridiculousness.
Monique and Margie, two of the marketing assistants on my marketing team of seven, strode toward me, and I decided they were the best bet for answers. They both seemed to be loyal to our team, and, if nothing else, I could throw out the “I’m your boss” card.
“Is it true?” Monique said as they approached, a desperate whine in her voice.
“Is what true?” I’d kept up with my work email over the weekend, so I couldn’t imagine there was any serious issue I wasn’t aware of.
“People are saying that we’ve been bought out,” Margie said.
“Bought out? Margie, you have to have misheard something. There’s no way—”
She shook her head mournfully. “We have an emergency meeting downstairs in five.”
Uh-oh. An emergency meeting was never good. I could count on both hands how many emergency meetings we’d had during my tenure here. One had been called last year to announce a new line of products, the first new launch in a decade, but I’d been on the team that had called that meeting. Another emergency meeting had taken place three or four years back, to share with the team that Mr. Borroni had had a heart attack and would be out for six weeks to recover. Again, I’d known about that before the rest of the team.
But I knew nothing about this meeting. I was as in the dark as the rest of the employees, and I didn’t like that feeling. There was only one way to find out what this was about.
I followed the sea of assistants, managers, and interns, all equally confused, down the stairs and into the dome-shaped conference center, which was really more of an amphitheater. It was the only place that could accommodate the entire staff.
When everyone was settled in, Marco Borroni, Nicolo’s nephew, stepped forward to speak. The current president of the company, we all knew he was next in line to become CEO. The senior Borroni was only in his mid-sixties, but he’d been working at the company since the day he’d graduated high school. There was no doubt in my mind that he was grooming his nephew to take over the operation. Could that be what this was about? I’d figured Nicolo would stick around for at least another four or five years.
“Quiet, please,” Marco said, his loud voice commanding the room. “I have someone I’d like you all to meet. But, before you do, I have an exciting announcement to make.”
I looked around me to see if my colleagues were all as confused as I was. Marco never made the company announcements. He was more of a behind-the-scenes kind of guy.
“Over the weekend, my uncle received an offer that he simply couldn’t turn down. He has decided that, given this offer, now would be the perfect time for him to hang up his hat.”
“What?” a voice behind me whispered.
“This better be a joke,” Lindsey, the VP of Sales, mumbled next to me.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the company has been purchased by Cadieux,” Marco explained.
He said it as if this was casual news, as if he wasn’t announcing something that could change all of our lives; a shift that could put all our jobs at risk.
“My uncle will return sometime in the next few weeks to say goodbye to each one of you. He’s currently out of town. I’m sure you’ll all be happy to know that he’s already put in an offer on a house closer to his grandchildren.”
His grandchildren? They lived all the way in Indiana.
This couldn’t be happening. There hadn’t been a single indication that Mr. Borroni had been looking into selling. I was sure he would’ve told me.
“I will stay on as the company’s president, but there may be some other restructuring to follow. For more details on that, I’d like to introduce you to our new CEO, Lucas Cadieux.”
I tried to soak in the words, but it was a lot to digest. I was happy Marco was staying on. We’d never been particularly close, but he was the only Borroni left in the business, and represented the link between the company’s past and its future, whatever that might look like…
I joined the dozens of other pairs of eyes that were fixated on the doorway just as a handsome man in a perfectly tailored suit emerged into the center of the room.
No. It couldn’t be.
Lucas Cadieux. Lucas. Coffee
shop Lucas.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, with that same hint of French accent I’d been drawn to when he’d first spoken. “I’m thrilled to be here. My grandfather founded Cadieux in 1965, and we have since become the premier chocolate supplier in Europe, now looking to expand our company’s interests in the States. I’m proud to say that our business started out as a family business and maintains that same feeling of being a family.”
Okay, so maybe this wouldn’t be the worst buyout ever. He was charming, and he seemed to understand the whole approach of running a family-based business. I was still trying to digest the thought that I wouldn’t be working side-by-side with Nicolo, but Lucas might be a nice alternative.
“With that being said, not everyone is meant to be part of a family.”
Ouch. Or not.
“Over the past decade, Cadieux has acquired thirty-one other chocolate companies,” he said, pausing to let that number sink in. “Only half of the employees we acquired with those companies remain with us today. I’m not here for nonsense. I’m here for excellence. I expect to be impressed by each and every one of you. If I’m not, there will be consequences.”
I looked over at Marco, who had a stoic look on his face. Though he didn’t appear to be overly thrilled by Lucas’s somewhat hostile introduction, he didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by it, either.
“I’ll be coming around to each department to meet each of you individually. Until then, get to work, and work harder and smarter than you have before. Prove to me that you’re indispensable, or I might believe that you’re not. I look forward to this new union and seeing what the Borroni team has to offer.”
Around me, whispers and curse words made their way around the room. No one openly spoke up to or against Lucas, though, probably because he’d made it perfectly clear that he was in charge now and had no problem firing any of us.
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