The Red Ledger 9

by Meredith Wild

  A low groan escaped from deep in my throat and vibrated across my lips as I dropped my chin to my chest with arousal overload.

  “What?” she whispered, seeming to have followed my thoughts down the naughty, naughty rabbit hole.

  “What, what?” I squinted at her with unfocused eyes.

  “What were you thinking? Your eyes . . . You just looked a million miles away.” She reached up to touch my face with splayed fingers but quickly let her hand fall away as if thinking better of it.

  “Oh, some things are better left unsaid, Little Red.” A grin played on my lips, still imagining her tight pussy milking and coating my fingers.

  “Better for who?” Rigidity returned to her spine. Frustration? Embarrassment?

  “For you.” I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, definitely picking up the scent of woman on the air. “In this instance, definitely better for you.”

  “That’s mighty high-handed of you.” All traces of arousal were gone from her voice.

  “What is?” I turned away and headed over to where my lunch was spread out, needing to get physical distance from her before I did something I’d regret.

  Like kiss her.

  And not being able to stop kissing her until she was naked beneath me, chanting my name.

  “Deciding what’s best for me,” she snapped. “You don’t even know me.”

  “My point exactly.” I unrolled the white napkin from around the silverware on the tray.

  She was quiet, and then moved to stand near the grouping of sofas where I sat. “You can be very obtuse. But I suppose that’s intentional. I don’t take you for a man who does anything willy-nilly.”

  “I could say the same for you.” I looked pointedly at the white napkin. “For a woman who claims to be serious about a very large future contract, I find it interesting that you wouldn’t follow the customer’s specifications, just to prove some immature point. Again, though, perfectly illustrating the first of my earlier arguments.”

  Silence blanketed the penthouse. However, the rise and fall of her chest broadcasted her growing agitation.

  Come on, Little Red Riding Hood. Cry. Do it.

  “Jesus Christ,” she muttered under her breath while a rosy flush spread up her neck. “Well, if you don’t need anything else here—”

  “Déjà vu, anyone?” I smirked, knowing she’d gotten the message. Loud and clear.

  “I’ll pass. Thanks, though.” She pivoted on her heel and headed to the door, proverbial tail tucked between her legs.

  I shot to my feet, rushing up behind her to slam my hand to the door above her head, effectively preventing her from opening it.

  Without turning to face me, she seethed, “Excuse me. I’m leaving now.”

  “Is this how you handle yourself in a tough situation, Ms. Gibson?” I clucked my tongue in disappointment while she still faced the door. “When the going gets tough, you bolt?” I increased the cadence of my words but kept the tone antagonistic. “If you land the exclusive catering contract for the Edge, is this the level of professionalism I can expect from you?” I provoked her further. “If we had a black-tie event in-house—oh, I don’t know . . . let’s say international dignitaries for a seven-course meal—will my caterer leave in a huff because her feelings were hurt due to someone not liking the goddamn salad dressing?”

  Slowly, she turned to face me, schooling her features so I couldn’t predict what was about to come.

  “Mr. Shark, I don’t ‘bolt’ when things become difficult. Quite frankly, nothing could be further from the truth. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, and I can admit my behavior takes unusual turns when I’m in this particular office. And as much as I hate to overinflate your ego more than it already is, that seems to have everything to do with you specifically. Not my job nor my ability to handle it. Rest assured, I am the best person to handle the exclusive contract for your new building.”

  “Why the tears again, then?” I demanded but then inexplicably shifted to a softer mien. “What’s this about?”

  “Unfortunately,” she sighed, inspecting her shoes before continuing, “when I get angry, I well up. I’ve been this way my entire life. It’s very frustrating, trust me. It makes me look fragile to outsiders, which only makes me more mad and then more tears and so on.”

  “I have a theory about anger, Ms. Gibson.”

  “Please, enlighten me.” She swiped her cheek with the back of her hand. One quick wipe on each side while she glared at me.

  “Anger is fear’s alter ego.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Shark.”

  “Maybe not of me, necessarily. But of the situation? This situation?” I couldn’t stop myself from wiping the last tear that rolled down her flame-red cheek. It evaporated from the heat of her skin as quickly as it was shed.

  “Fear, anger, excitement . . . no matter what you call it, Abbigail, they’re all forms of passion. And to be good at something? Whether it’s feeding people, housing people, or hell”—I chuckled—“even moving freight across the ocean. To be the king of your kingdom, you have to do it with passion. That’s what gives you the edge.”

  I stepped away from the door and pulled the large panel back, holding it open while the captivating girl gathered her bearings and realized she was being dismissed.

  “I hope you have a productive weekend, Ms. Gibson,” I said in place of goodbye.

  “Uhhh, yeah, you too.” She shook her head slightly, still seeming to be working out what had just happened as she went.

  The door closed, and I sat down to eat the lunch she made for me, grinning from the knowledge that her careful hands created my meal. Her sexy fingers manipulated the ingredients along with her intelligent mind that combined flavors and textures to assemble—honest to Christ—one of the best sandwiches I’d ever eaten.

  To the extent that I was inspired enough to pull out my phone, snap a quick picture of the empty plate, and send it to Little Red along with a text message. How I had her cell phone number was inconsequential. I was a very resourceful man when properly motivated.

  Lunch was outstanding. Thank you.

  The throbbing ellipses appeared almost instantly, signaling her impending reply.

  My pleasure. I aim to be king.

  * * *

  Keep reading in Shark’s Edge

  Also by Meredith Wild

  The Red Ledger

  More Information on The Red Ledger

  The Hacker Series

  Hardwired

  Hardpressed

  Hardline

  Hard Limit

  Hard Love

  The Bridge Series

  On My Knees

  Into The Fire

  Over the Edge

  Author’s Note

  When Tristan and Isabel introduced themselves to me many years ago, I couldn’t have known then that the story would eventually unfold during such a meaningful time in my own life. Any book I write is in some small way a reflection of my current reality. The Red Ledger has been more than a winding romantic journey toward a happily ever after, quietly echoing some elements of my personal life. It’s been a much louder, bloodier, and twisted tale of two lost souls navigating an ugly, unforgiving world. And for my own survival, I needed to live inside this world with them for a while, as unpleasant and hopeless as it sometimes felt.

  My first thanks go to those characters in my own life who have offered such rich inspiration during my creative process. Without your immaturity, malice, and pettiness, this story simply would not be possible. Every moment of outrage added valuable fuel to my hate fire, which I then poured directly into the book. As a writer, I couldn’t have pushed myself as far without your help.

  Thank you to Jonathan, my mom, my children, and my loyal friends for being emotional lifelines. I’m forever grateful to the Waterhouse team for restoring my faith in what I’ve built and lifting my spirits simply by being yo
urselves. Thank you as always to my readers, for your patience and continuous support.

  Special thanks to Kirk Overhoff for your insights about the pharmaceutical development process, and Brian Saady, whose book, The Drug War: A Trillion Dollar Con Game, played heavily into the themes that emerged in the series.

  Lastly, to my characters, who after all this time together feel quite real, thank you for waiting for me and for coming to life precisely when I needed you to.

  About the Author

  Meredith Wild is a #1 New York Times, USA Today, and international bestselling author. After publishing her debut novel, Hardwired, in September 2013, Wild used her ten years of experience as a tech entrepreneur to push the boundaries of her “self-published” status, becoming stocked in brick-and-mortar bookstore chains nationwide and forging relationships with major retailers.

  In 2014, Wild founded her own imprint, Waterhouse Press, under which she hit #1 on the New York Times and Wall Street Journal bestseller lists. She has been featured on CBS This Morning and the Today Show, and in the New York Times, the Hollywood Reporter, Publishers Weekly, and the Examiner. Her foreign rights have been sold in twenty-three languages.

  For more information, please follow Meredith Wild at:

  MeredithWild.com