Command (2 page)

During the ensuing years, she and Julien had spent significant time together. They had shared numerous successes and a couple of not-so glorious product debuts overseas. Over time, she’d come to think of him as more than a boss. He was also a friend and confidante.

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “Did I screw up?” Why the hell else was she being banished from the inner circle to… Jesus H. She didn’t even know where the cave was. “It’s in this country, isn’t it? In the bowels of a mountain somewhere.”

“New Mexico,” he supplied helpfully. “Yes, that’s in the United States. Near Colorado—and Arizona, I think. Gorgeous this time of the year.”

“You’d have said that no matter what time of the year it was.”

“True. But just picture it, a layer of snow will make it refreshing and…pure.”

“Snow?
Snow?”
She struggled to hold onto her temper. “Come on, Julien. We live in California. I don’t do cold.”

“Didn’t,” he countered. “You do now. Temporarily.” He tossed the apple in the air again. “The change will be good for you. It will allow you to see product development, understand more of what’s involved in getting something to market. Think of it as cross-training.”

“With someone I’ve never met.”

“He’s a friend of mine. We went to college together.”

“Is that supposed to be a recommendation?”

He opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He contemplated the apple before responding. “You have a point.”

She narrowed her eyes as she realized he hadn’t answered her question about screwing up. And he’d asked about her love life. “This is about Simon, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” The word was sharp, its trajectory exact.

Aria wrapped her arms around herself.
God.
She knew that the fiasco with her former fiancé was going to continue to haunt her.

“But it’s not about punishment, Aria. You didn’t screw up. I’m doing this for you. Everyone needs an occasional change of focus. You work too hard. Hell, I work too hard. It fucks up relationships, interferes with free time, makes us forget we’re human. A break, even an enforced one, clears the mind, helps reset the focus. You’ll come back with even more to give.”

“I don’t need that.”

“Don’t want it,” he corrected.

“Don’t want it,” she agreed.

To the whole world and to her, it had seemed an ideal match. Simon had been smart, attractive, successful. How the hell could she not want to marry him?

She’d ignored the fact that they really had nothing in common and didn’t like to do the same things. Sex was okay, but there’d been no real affection there. They both traveled a lot for work and they were often on different continents and in vastly differing time zones.

As the months had gone on, she’d begun to realize that she’d originally been caught up in the fantasy that they could have a relationship like some of the power couples she knew. But even after he’d put a ring on her finger, their phone calls had rarely lasted longer than a minute. A few had clocked in at less than twelve seconds. Mostly they’d communicated via text or email.

The wedding dress she’d hung in the closet at her apartment seemed to mock her. Friends and family told her the jitters were normal. But jitters had morphed into the fear that if she got married, it would be a big mistake.

She’d finally gathered the courage to sit down with Simon and confess her misgivings. And it turned out, he wasn’t as devastated as she’d feared he would be.

He’d admitted he was mostly going through the motions, too. Get a career, get married. He loved her, but he wasn’t crazy about her. He’d agreed that they both deserved better.

The news had relieved her, but she’d been sad, as well. No matter what she’d thought, at least on some level, she’d been a failure. If not because she’d ended the engagement, then from accepting the ring in the first place.

Though they’d issued a joint statement canceling the wedding, it had been too late to stop the invitations from going out. A well-respected online business magazine had made the announcement top-of-the-page news. It had been accompanied by a picture of her smiling, arms folded. The headline had asked,
Fit to lead?
The accompanying article had questioned her decision-making and ability to stick with something for the long term.

When she and Simon had both refused to comment, the enterprising reporter had called Julien for a comment. He’d said he had total confidence in her. She’d appreciated his loyalty, and she would do anything to repay it.

“I’m not giving you a choice in this,” Julien said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Are you asking me to resign?”

“No.” He tossed the apple and captured it. Repeatedly. Annoyingly.

“Firing me?”

He tossed the apple again.

She scowled, temper unraveling in the least ladylike way possible. “Transferring me?”

“No.”

“Okay. Asking me to take a leave of absence?”

“All those would be worse for Bonds in general.”

As always, he’d keep the company in mind. But what about her sanity? “I’m confused.” She reached to absently twirl her engagement ring. Then, realizing it wasn’t there, she laced her fingers, trying to keep them still. It didn’t work.

“Don’t read anything into this. Have I ever lied to you?”

“No. More like the opposite.” Julien Bonds was honest to the point of bluntness.

“It’s a temporary reassignment. Nothing more.”

That didn’t help dim the thrum of her agitation.

“Grant’s overextended, not at his best.”

“Trying to twist the theory of relativity will do that to a man,” she said dryly.

“It’s the Laws of Physics. I think. But close enough.”

Finally irritated into action, she reached out, snatched his apple then slammed it on the pristine surface of his desk. The
thunk
satisfied…and it would leave a mark.

“That was my dinner.”

“Put it in a smoothie.”

“If it had been grapes, we could have made it into wine.”

“This is my fucking life we’re talking about, Julien—boss or no boss. Give me the courtesy of being serious for five minutes.”

He curled both hands around the apple and drew the fruit toward him. Then he met her gaze. “You’re going to Los Alamos. You’re going to spend time with Grant. And you need to snap yourself out of your funk. I think the challenge will be good for you.”

“Are you my psychologist now?” Frustration made her edgy.

“Grant needs to refocus, too. Bonds needs him. I need him.”

“Wait a minute.” All of a sudden, the genius’s strategy became clear, the colors vivid. “You’re sending me to do something you haven’t been able to do.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he hedged.

“Well?”

“Inspire!” He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. You’ll inspire him. Be a muse of sorts.”

“Julien, please…”

“Svetlana will be ready for you tomorrow morning at eight. Meet her at the airport.”

Aria set her chin. “And if I refuse?”

“You won’t.”

“Are you threatening my job?” Fear left her momentarily immobilized. For the past four years, she’d given everything she had to Bonds. If she was forced out, what the hell would she do? Where would she go? She’d never contemplated a future without her job.

“Stop,” he warned. “Whatever the fuck you’re thinking, get rid of it. I need you reenergized. You and Grant are two of my best people. It’s time for you to work together.”

“And my regular responsibilities?”

“I’ll have David fill in. He’s capable. You’ve seen to it.”

David was her number two. He was a good choice, and he would have been running things during her honeymoon, anyway. Julien was right, but that didn’t mean she liked his decision. “How long am I exiled for?”

“Until you have a new product. Two days? Three weeks? Six months?”

The shockwave of fear edged away, replaced by pragmatic reality. “It’s not possible for me to stay away from the office, my life, my friends, my parents for that long.”

“Then I suggest you work fast.” As if unconcerned, he picked up his bruised apple and took a bite.

Her stomach had turned inside out, and he was eating? “Do we have a corporate house or apartment there?” Bonds had interests all over the planet, they owned a number of properties that senior executives or engineers could stay in while traveling. The places made extended stays away from home marginally more pleasant, and employees weren’t at the mercy of hotel availability.

“No. When I go to New Mexico, I stay with Grant.”

This was getting worse and worse. “You’re suggesting I move into a cave with him?”

“It’s a very nice—”

“Don’t say it.”

“More of a mountain retreat,” he finished. “You’ll like it.”

At some point, she expected Julien to crack one of his infamous grins and declare he’d only been having fun. A lot of it, at her expense.

Instead, he continued, “There are hotels nearby, but they’re impractical for long-term use. You’d have quite a drive every day. But of course, if that’s your preference, we’ll make the arrangements.” He stood and walked past her.

His knit polo shirt with its embroidered Bonds logo had made her believe he was dressed in casual business attire. In reality, that was illusion. He wore baggy basketball shorts that hung down to his calves. He’d completed the look with gray athletic socks and orange tennis shoes. “Quite the outfit.”

“Everyone’s a fashion critic. Most people have the courtesy to take a hint and leave before I have to kick them out.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

He continued through the office and pressed the elevator call button. “You have a thousand details to see to, informing David of the new plan, meeting with your team, packing, paying bills, talking to your parents. I’m not sure how you’ll get it done in the next couple of hours, but you’re resourceful, and you’ll figure it out. You can sleep on the plane tomorrow.”

“With Svetlana flying it?”

“She hasn’t nicked any mountains.” He cocked his head. “Well, not recently, anyway. And it’s been ages since she crashed an aircraft. Years, I’m sure. And the Tornado is spectacular. It can practically fly itself.”

Aria realized he was trying to ease her mind with the casual banter that defined their relationship. Until now, he’d been the one to help her sort out reality, not distort it. “I’m trying to understand. Am I allowed to be in contact with people?”

“Don’t make this complicated, Aria. You’re a valuable asset to Bonds and to me personally. It would be catastrophically stupid of me to prohibit you from talking to them. But limit your exposure. I want you focused on your new project.”

“I apologize for the wedding fiasco.”

“The non-wedding fiasco,” he corrected her. After giving her a smile that didn’t help mitigate her angst, he added, “Rise to the new-product challenge, and accept this time away from California as the gift it’s meant to be.”

“I don’t know anything about product development.”

“You know more than you think you do.”

“This feels more like a prison sentence,” she admitted.

He gave her an unholy grin. “Marriage to Simon would have been a life sentence.”

The elevator arrived. “Are you telling me you think it wouldn’t have worked?”

“You’re a smart woman.”

“So why—”

“He was a wuss. A wimp. He wore tweed jackets with leather patches at the elbows.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “You need someone you can’t push around.”

“
What?
”

“You chew through weak men as if they’re candy, then you complain when you get a toothache.”

Her stomach plummeted. No one knew that about her. What the hell had she ever done that made Julien think she needed someone strong?

“Grant is man enough to handle you. Now go.”

The longer she stayed, the more false hope she’d fill herself with. Despite his reassurances, she felt as if she were being fired.

Focusing on sorting her million priorities, she entered the car then pushed the button to take her to the lobby.

“Aria?”

Was he offering a reprieve? She shoved out her arm to prevent the doors from closing. “What?”

“It’s really fucking cold there. Take boots!”

Scowling at him, she allowed the door to close. As the elevator descended, she could have sworn she heard him add, “You know, those sexy ones that make men forget their names!”

* * * *

“Are we settled then?”

“What?” Jolted into awareness, Grant Kingston looked up from his computer monitor. Two minutes ago, the privacy of his workshop had been demolished by Julien’s interruption. The smooth jazz background music had faded out and every speaker in his house had blasted a synthesized symphonic piece that could have accompanied a movie. It had been followed by an announcement that a genius was trying to reach him. Most people used a phone or computer connection to talk to people, but not Julien. And as Grant had discovered, keeping out the government was easier than keeping out Julien.

Julien had started their conversation with pleasantries, which, in retrospect, should have made Grant suspicious. Generally his friend made a blunt statement and waited for a response. This time, though, he’d told a story about one of his executives, about her broken engagement and how she needed to get away.

And it wasn’t until Julien’s question that Grant figured out that it somehow applied to him. Dumbfounded, he asked, “You want her to come here?”

“Putting together two of the smartest people in the company is a brilliant idea.”

It sounded as if he’d rehearsed the comment.

“I don’t run a bed-and-breakfast.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“No fucking way.” Because he was a partner with Julien—one of his best friends—Grant tolerated a lot of crap. Generally though, he got more in return than he ever gave. But this…? Allowing someone into his home, his work space, his sanctuary?
No.
He barely tolerated Julien’s impromptu—but mercifully short—visits.

The surround-sound speakers remained mute.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think that meant Julien had accepted his response. “There’s a reason I live near Los Alamos. Send your runaway bride somewhere else.”