by Jenna Brandt
5
The video conference window popped up on Conrad’s computer screen. He clicked the button to accept the meeting with Daniel Maddox, a Boswell Oil executive who had been transferred overseas a few months back. He hated Roger almost as much as Conrad did, and had approached Conrad to work together to take over Boswell Oil from the inside.
“How is everything going with the merger of the solar panel technology into the new energy division?” Daniel inquired.
“Tiffany Boswell is proving to be more difficult than I first estimated.”
Daniel snorted and rolled his eyes. “She’s in way over her head. She’s under the delusion she can fill her daddy’s shoes even though she’s a woman. I heard through my sources over in the New York office that Boswell Senior’s illness is progressing much faster than anyone anticipated. He doesn’t have years, but months now. That means his daughter will be distracted and vulnerable. Use that to your benefit. You should be able to charm her right out of her skirt.”
Though Conrad owed Daniel for contacting him about Boswell Senior wanting to branch into the solar energy market, every time he talked to the man, he found himself regretting his decision to get in league with Daniel Maddox. He had no problem crossing any ethical or moral line, and that bothered Conrad. He wanted to ruin Roger and take over Boswell Oil, but he didn’t want to compromise himself to do it. Using Tiffany, especially in the way Daniel suggested by his crude innuendo, would be a line Conrad wasn’t willing to cross. However, he needed to appease Daniel for the time-being. The information Daniel had been feeding Conrad over the past few months had been invaluable and he needed to keep him content until the takeover was complete.
“I’m handling the situation on my end, don’t worry about it. I think I finally turned a corner with Tiffany last week.”
“So, you did get into her skirt,” Daniel grinned snidely. “Nice. I’d always wondered what it would be like to hit that. I bet she was a great piece.”
Conrad gritted his teeth, disliking how Daniel was talking about Tiffany. He forced himself not to raise his voice when he responded. “That’s not the point—I’m getting the job done. We’ll have everything in place to take over in a couple of months.”
“Good. We didn’t plan for this to happen, but it’s perfect timing. We want to take full advantage of Boswell Senior’s death. With everyone distracted by it and the plunge the shares will take, it will make this takeover like a cakewalk. We can walk right in and take the whole place over.” Daniel glanced down at his watch then back up at the screen. “Look, I have to get into the office here in Indonesia, but let me know if you need anything else from me until our next check-in.”
The video conference ended, leaving Conrad with a bitter taste in his mouth. Nothing about his conversation with Daniel set right with him. He wanted revenge on Roger, but he hated the idea of taking advantage of his sister or his father’s death to do it. Was he making the right decision to work with a man like Daniel who thought both options were acceptable? He was beginning to have reservations about their plan and wondered if he needed to re-think what he was doing.
As the holidays approached, work around Boswell Oil slowed down. Employees were taking time off to be with family, to shop for gifts, and to go on vacation—everyone besides Tiffany and Conrad. They had worked straight through until the weekend before Christmas.
“I have to say, I’ve never seen anyone else as dedicated to their company as I am,” Conrad observed. “You really care about Boswell Oil.”
“I do. I want it to be around for my nephew and any other children my brother decides to have in the future.”
Conrad looked up from the stack of papers in front of him and tilted his head to the side. “Just your brother’s children? You don’t plan to have children of your own to pass the company down to?”
Tiffany swallowed a couple of times; not sure she was ready to tell Conrad about Artie. Over the past couple of weeks, she’d learned to get along with Conrad for the sake of the company, but she still didn’t know if she trusted him.
“I don’t know if marriage or kids is in the cards for me,” Tiffany revealed. “Now that I’m running this place, I have no social life to speak of and I refuse to date anyone from work. Doesn’t really leave room for the possibility of romance.”
“I get being busy—I’m the king of too busy. It’s just unusual to hear a woman so bluntly say she isn’t interested in those things.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” Tiffany quickly corrected. “I just don’t think it’s going to happen.”
The door opened to reveal Roger on the other side. He leaned against the doorframe. “You remember the company Christmas party is tonight, right Tiffany?”
She glanced down at her outfit, then remembered she brought a cocktail dress with her. “Yes, I totally got distracted, but we’ll be there.”
“We’ll?” Roger probed, glancing over at Conrad. “He’s coming?”
“Of course he is,” Tiffany stated emphatically.
“Your father called and invited me,” Conrad explained. Then with a shrug, he added, “But I don’t have to come.”
“You do,” Tiffany defended. “He’s been here every day for the past several weeks working on this project for our company. The least we can do is let him come to the Christmas party.”
Roger straightened up as his eyes narrowed, glancing from his sister to Conrad then back to her. “I’m surprised to hear you push so hard for him to come. I guess working with him has changed your opinion of him.”
Tiffany avoided answering her brother. The truth was, it had. She respected Conrad now, knowing he took his work as seriously as she did. They didn’t always see eye-to-eye on everything, but she understood who he was and why he did what he did.
“I have to go pick up Celeste and Marcus. I will see you at The Spot in an hour,” Roger said before turning around and taking off down the hall.
“You didn’t have to do that. I could tell your brother wasn’t happy with you defending me.”
“Despite what you think, I don’t have to have my brother approve everything I do.”
“Duly noted,” Conrad said with a grin. “You can go rogue when you want.”
“He is right about one thing; I should probably take off if I’m going to make it to the party on time. I’ll see you there?”
Conrad nodded. “I’ll be the one in the black tux.”
Tiffany let out a laugh. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for you then.”
A little over an hour later, Tiffany arrived at the posh, Upper West Side Manhattan restaurant that her family rented out. She made her way inside and was glad she made the decision to let Roger make all the plans. He’d always been good at throwing a successful party.
The place was filled with fresh holiday flowers along with two massive Christmas trees glittering with ornaments and stuffed with presents underneath on both ends of the banquet room. There was also a giant ice sculpture in the center representing the twelve days of Christmas, along with an enormous buffet table filled with vast amounts of delicious food. Additionally, servers in starched black and white uniforms were weaving through the crowd with silver trays filled with appetizers and drinks.
“You look so pretty tonight,” she heard Celeste praise from behind her. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you wearing anything other than a business suit.”
“That’s because my sister is naturally the exact opposite of me—all business, all the time,” Roger teased coming up beside his sister, and slinging his arm around her. “It’s why we’re such a good match. I’m great at entertaining the clients, planning the parties, and overseeing the media, and she’s great at all the boring and stuffy parts of the business, like spreadsheets and sales reports.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Is that how you really see me, boring and stuffy? I’ll have you know, I can have a good time as well as anyone else.”
“Don’t let Mom hear you say that,”
Roger chided. “She’ll point out you haven’t been on a date ever since Artie. I warned you not to get involved with him. He’s the worst—”
Celeste reached out and placed her hand on Roger’s arm. “That’s enough of that. Your sister doesn’t need one more person lecturing her. Besides, we’ve all made mistakes when it comes to dating. It just takes the right one, and Tiffany hasn’t found him yet.”
“Hasn’t found who yet?” Conrad inquired as he came up to the group.
“Never mind, it doesn’t matter,” Tiffany quickly answered, irritated that she was excited to see Conrad tonight.
He looked devastatingly handsome in his black tuxedo with a white shirt and black bow tie. His dark hair, that he usually wore slightly spiked in the front, was slicked back tonight, making his gorgeous brown eyes pop even more than they normally did.
Celeste glanced from Tiffany to Conrad and then back. Her lips curved up in a smile as she suggested, “I think the two of you should kick off the dancing.”
“No, that’s all right. We’re fine,” Tiffany quickly objected.
“Wait a minute, don’t answer for me,” Conrad corrected. “It’s not the worst idea.”
“I need to check on a few things, so it is,” Tiffany challenged.
“Don’t be absurd, Tiffany. Be polite and dance with Mr. Gaines,” her mother insisted as she came up to the group. “Your father would be terribly upset if he thought you were being rude to one of our business partners.”
Tiffany stiffened, trying to hold back the irritated sigh that wanted to burst free from her throat. She pressed her lips together, then reluctantly nodded. There was no way she would win against her mother; it was better to get the silly dance over and done with and then she could move on for the night.
Conrad reached out and took her hand, and to Tiffany’s complete and utter shock, it was like a bolt of lightning hitting her. A tingling sensation surged up her arm, warming her and causing her heart to race, and her breath to quicken. In all the time they had worked together, she had purposely refrained from physical contact, knowing that once a bell was rung, it couldn’t be undone.
He pulled her into his arms, the closeness of their contact making her response to him even harder to ignore. She could swear that at any moment, her heart might explode right out of her chest.
“Did I tell you how pretty you look in that dress tonight? You look like a stormy ocean, ready to blow down everything around you with your intoxicating beauty.”
Tiffany could feel her cheeks blush. She hadn’t expected the compliment, or the giddy reaction it stirred inside her. When she had put on the sparkling blue, floor-length evening gown, she hadn’t planned on impressing anyone, let alone Conrad. It was simply the dress her mother’s stylist had picked out for her. Now, she was extremely grateful Tara knew exactly what looked good on her petite frame.
“Thank you,” she whispered, letting her eyes drift up to meet his. She could see the appreciation for her reflected back, and she realized, they were on the verge of having the nature of their relationship shift. If she didn’t know any better, she thought he might try to kiss her.
Unprepared and thoroughly confused, Tiffany jerked back from Conrad. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”
Before he could question her further, she took off out of the room. She needed to put some distance between herself and Conrad. He was dangerous, and the worst kind. He could derail every part of her plan for the future, and he was Roger’s enemy on top of it. She shouldn’t have let herself be pushed into getting that close to him.
She spent ten minutes in the bathroom, calming herself down enough to return to the party. She hoped no one noticed how out of sorts she still felt inside. Tiffany took a final look in the mirror, pushed her shoulders back, and marched out of the powder room ready to firmly put Conrad Gaines out of her mind.
“Can we talk? I figured it would be best do so alone without so many prying eyes.”
All the work Tiffany had put into preparing herself for the rest of the party was ruined the moment she heard Conrad’s voice. Her body started shaking, the hall started to tilt, and the air was sticky and hot around her. How was it that Conrad had this effect on her? Was he stressing her out so much, she was going to pass out? Was this a stroke? Whatever was going on, she needed to get as far away from him as possible to make it stop. “There’s nothing to talk about. I need to get back inside,” Tiffany asserted, trying to step past him.
Conrad moved to the left, stopping her escape route. “Why did you take off like that? I thought we were having a good time?”
“That dance was Celeste’s and my mother’s stupid idea. I should have never let it happen,” Tiffany snapped, folding her arms across her chest.
“No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to dismiss what was happening between us, what could have happened if you hadn’t run away. I’m beginning to see that’s a pattern of yours, when you don’t like how something is going, you walk away from it. I’ve seen you do it at work. I won’t let you do it with me.”
“Listen, I have to go, Conrad. If you want to continue to scold me about how unprofessional I am, you’ll have to do it at the office on Monday. It’s Christmas for goodness sakes.”
Tiffany pushed past Conrad, angry at him beyond belief. She wasn’t sure why, but he irritated and intrigued her in equal parts. One moment she wanted to slap the conceited expression off his face, and the next she wanted to kiss it away.
“Not so fast,” he barked to her retreating figure. Tiffany felt his hand reach out and grab her, forcing her to turn around and face him. “I have something else to say to you. I resent your uppity demeanor; like you shouldn’t have to deal with anything you don’t want to.”
“Well, I resent your take-charge attitude; how you try to own the room whenever you walk into it,” she spat back at him, twisting her hands into the lapels of his suit jacket and looking up into his eyes.
“And, I resent your rich girl ways. How you’re constantly oblivious as to how lucky you are to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth,” he retorted, roughly pulling her towards him and letting his lips drift down until they were mere inches from her own.
“Well, I resent your smugness; how you think you’re superior to everyone around you,” she snidely rebuked, closing the final distance between them.
She wanted him to kiss her. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself.
His lips came down on hers, hard and strong. Not a tender kiss, but one built strictly from pent-up passion and desire. It had been a long time coming, both resisting what had been simmering below their supposedly platonic business relationship.
Tiffany felt herself give into Conrad, her body yielding to his as he deepened the kiss. Sparks of electricity ignited around them, pushing everything else aside except her need to be wanted by this man.
Suddenly, the sound of clapping brought Tiffany back to where they were. If she were caught like this with Conrad, it would ruin any respect she had gained at the company. She had worked too hard for that to happen.
Yanking back, she whispered, “We shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake.”
Not waiting for Conrad’s response, she took off from the shadows of the hidden hall and made her way into the Christmas party without looking back.
6
To Conrad’s regret, Tiffany had avoided the office between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, choosing to do her work from home and only coming in when Conrad was unavailable. He also knew it was his fault; that he had caused the distance that was now between them. Conrad knew he shouldn’t have said the things he did, and he surely shouldn’t have kissed Tiffany. He wasn’t even sure what possessed him to do it except that Tiffany was able to get under his skin in a way no other woman ever had. He had been attracted to her before the kiss, but now that he had a sample of how wonderful it felt to have her in his arms and to claim her mouth with his own, all he could do was think about doing it again.
In the meantime, Conrad had been summoned to see Boswell Senior at his home. The man no longer came into the office, and rarely left his penthouse.
Conrad entered the swanky Upper East apartment building and tried not to shake his head at the old money it exuded, from the starched uniforms of the help, to the pictures of the co-op board made up of old white men. He noticed as he walked through the building, heads turned his way and disapproving looks followed. Conrad was a billionaire, but self-made, and places like this try their best to keep his kind out.
The elevator took him to the top floor of the building. He made his way down the hall and knocked on the door. A uniformed maid answered, ushered him in, and escorted him to a large room filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books and prestigious awards, large overstuffed chairs, and an ornate mahogany desk. Scattered throughout the room were pictures of the Boswell family with notable celebrities and politicians.
In the chair directly behind the desk was Boswell Senior. Conrad recognized him from their previous video conferences about the energy technology merger, though now the oil tycoon looked much older and thinner than Conrad remembered from a few months back.
“Come over here and take a seat,” Boswell Senior ordered. “I’m not sure how long I have before things get foggy again. I want to take care of this before I forget why you’re here.”
Conrad did as he was directed, sitting in a chair across from the older man.
“I heard about what happened between you and my daughter at the Christmas party,” Boswell Senior stated bluntly. “And before you try, there’s no point in denying it. I got my information from a very good source.”