Diablo Blanco Club: Unfair Advantage (3 page)

She waited until he’d returned to his desk before looking up. “What kind of problem?”

From his forefinger dangled a white lace thong. Though his face showed little emotion, anger glittered in his pale green eyes. Panic had Mattie’s heart slamming against her ribs as she considered the panties could have come from the stash she kept in her desk. Before she could stutter out an excuse for their presence, Bryce continued and eased her worries.

“These were tucked into my pocket in the middle of my meeting with Heilsbeck and Reynolds, along with a very X-rated proposition.” With a disgusted look, he dropped the item in the trash. Legs crossed at the ankles, Bryce leaned against the polished mahogany desk and gripped the edge with his hands. “They weren’t very happy about it.”

“Is that why you canceled your afternoon meeting?” Mattie tilted her head to hold his gaze.

“Among other things.” He took a deep breath, his knuckles going white from his hold on the desk before he continued. “The board approached my father about rethinking his retirement.”

“But—”

Bryce lifted his left hand and motioned her to stop. “They want him to continue running the company until a suitable replacement can be found.”

Mattie could tell there was more. Long fingers raked through his hair, mussing the white blond waves. The gold hoop in his left ear flashed in the sunlight before his fingers tugged at it. A sign she’d learned years ago meant he was working through a problem in his head before discussing it.

“Suitable replacement? How can you not be a suitable replacement?” Mattie finally asked when he remained quiet.

“That’s where the problem comes in.” His arms folded over his chest and his gaze held hers. “The board is reluctant to have me replace my father. Factoring in the recent downturn in the economy, two stalled contracts, and one outright canceled, along with the mess created by the article in
Upscale
, some on the board feel I no longer have the right image to represent Halsey Unlimited, Inc.”

“But that’s crazy.” Mattie rose from her seat and began pacing the wheat-colored Berber carpet beside his desk. “You ran this company for Jacob while he was recovering from his heart attack. You and Richard worked hard to reverse the losses on the stock and even increased the profits. How can you not be the right image?”

Bryce seemed to choose his words carefully. “Some of the board members feel there are aspects of my personal life that reflect poorly on the company.”

Mattie understood just what he was saying. His partial ownership of the Diablo Blanco Club and his reputation as a Dominant were undisputed facts in San Diablo. The board, especially Frieda Makepeace and her husband, Lionel, had tried to demand his resignation over a year ago, when one of Bryce’s former lovers had given details to a reporter with one of the less-reputable gossip magazines. “The Makepeaces are leading the charge, right?”

“They have some of the others concerned with the direction the company would go if I were in charge.”

“Frieda Makepeace is a conniving, backstabbing bitch,” Mattie snapped, dropping onto the arm of the leather sofa. “Everyone knows she’s resented your position in the company for years. She’s fought every attempt you’ve made to diversify the interests of Halsey’s.”

“This time she may actually get what she wants.”

“You aren’t really going to resign?” Mattie shook her head. Rising, she moved closer, her hand gripping the back of one of the chairs facing his desk. “You can’t let her win, Bryce.”

“Then marry me.”

She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

Bryce grinned, his white teeth a sharp contrast to his sun-darkened features. “I’m not crazy, Lawrence. Both my dad and Dixon feel that if I present the board with a wife, I have a chance to regain some of the support I’ve lost. Most of the members are only wavering. Makepeace has convinced only a few to side with her, but the others are on the fence.”

“But why me?”

The warm clasp of his hand around her wrist had Mattie’s heart picking up its pace. When he tugged her around the chair to stand directly in front of him, it grew worse. The muscles in her belly clenched, the slick heat between her thighs pulsed, and her breasts ached. Against the lace of her bra, she could feel her nipples harden. She swallowed and focused on steadying her breathing.

“I need a wife that the board can respect and who knows that the interests of the company are paramount.” He watched her face, seeming to read every thought that spun through her head. “She has to be able to face down any objections and possibly take on Frieda and Lionel when it comes to convincing everyone that the marriage is real.”

Mattie shook her head. “I’m not sure—”

“I am.” He gripped her hands in his. “You’re smart, Lawrence. Most of the board likes and respects your hard work and dedication to the company. Hell, some of them keep complaining about your refusal to be promoted since you finished your MBA. It’s a win-win situation.”

Needing to be able to think, Mattie pulled her hands from his and moved back behind the chair, putting distance between her and the man who did such intense damage to her self-control. “How is it a win-win situation?”

“It’s pretty likely that if I’m forced to resign, you’ll lose your job. Anyone replacing me would be an idiot not to keep you, but business doesn’t usually work that way. I doubt whoever takes over would allow your promotion to one of the other management positions for fear of you carrying out some of the policies I implemented.” He shrugged. “Your reputation has never been called into question, and the board would likely see our marriage as a settling influence on me.”

A snort of laughter escaped before Mattie could stop it. Meeting Bryce’s gaze, she smiled and apologized. “Sorry, I just can’t see you ‘settling.’”

Bryce pushed his hands into his pockets and paced away from his desk. Stopping at the liquor cabinet, he poured a measure of his favorite single malt. “That’s the problem, Lawrence. The board doesn’t believe it either.” Watching her, he sipped his drink. “I’m not talking about a quick-fix type of solution here. The marriage would have to be real in every sense. As long as the Makepeaces have any power in the company, we will have to present a united front. No divorce. No separations. No infidelities. We stay together for as long as it takes.”

“How long do you think that will be?” Unsure her legs would continue to hold her upright, Mattie settled into the chair, her hands clenched together in her lap.

“At the very least, five years.” He grimaced, and then shrugged. “At most, until the old harridan and her husband croak and quit manipulating the board with their horror stories.”

Mattie couldn’t hold back the laughter at his comment. “That’s a heck of a long time to pretend to be married, Bryce, just to keep my job.”

“Who said anything about pretending?” Bryce moved back to his desk and set his drink on the clear vinyl protector covering the polished wood.

“Well…I…I assumed…” Mattie wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but all thought exited her mind when Bryce leaned forward and braced both hands on the arms of her chair.

“We would arrive and leave work together, live in the same house, share the same bed. It would be a real marriage, Lawrence.”

Mattie sank farther into her chair. She could feel the heat in her face, and her fingers tangled together to keep from latching on to the man and kissing him silly. Inside, she wavered between euphoria and dread. True, she’d fantasized about being with him for years—hell, since the first day she saw him—but marriage? “I…I’m not…” She shook her head and eyed him carefully as he moved back to lean against the desk.

“Too much?”

“I’ve just never…” Mattie waited, then tried again. “I’m going to need time to think this over.”

“How much?” After finishing his drink, Bryce returned it to the bar and leaned against the built-in cabinet to await her answer.

“A week?” she offered.

He shook his head. “That’s too long. I want to make the arrangements so everything is in place before my father’s retirement party in five weeks. I need an answer before you leave tonight.”

“That’s less than an hour.” It was Mattie’s turn to shake her head. She was used to this type of negotiation with the man. His determination to come out on top was apparent, but she was equally resolute about gaining time to seriously think about her decision. “You’re talking about a serious commitment, Bryce. If you aren’t going to give me a week, I need at least the weekend to make a decision.”

“Forty-eight hours is too long. I want to get the ball rolling on this before the weekend is over.” Glancing at the grandfather clock across the room, he countered. “It’s just past four now. Think about it and give me a call by ten tonight.”

“Five hours?” She rose and moved to pace the area between his desk and the seating area. “Still not enough time, Halsey. You’re asking me to make a decision that could affect the next five years of my life. If not more. No”—she shook her head and sat on the rolled arm of a hunter green leather chair—“I need at least thirty-six hours to seriously think this through.”

“Too much time.” He seemed to be thinking something through as he crossed the room toward her, one hand tugging at the earring while the other rested on his hip. “You’re coming out to the Folly tomorrow to go over the details for the King party, correct?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’re probably going to go to your sister’s and talk to her about my proposal, right?”

“More than likely.”

“Okay then.” He settled his hands on the back of the chair. “That gives you eighteen hours to think over my offer. When you come out to the Folly tomorrow afternoon, give me your answer.”

She hesitated to ask but knew it needed to be broached. “What if I decide I can’t agree?”

The green of his eyes darkened. His expression grew blank, as if the amusement he’d found participating in their test of wills had been wiped away. “Then I’ll have to consider tendering my resignation.”

“But—”

He shook his head. “I’ll have to, Lawrence.” The fingers of his left hand cupped her chin, sending tremors of awareness skittering through her, tingling along her nerve endings and pooling in the heated center of her body. “I need someone who knows why my days are taken up with work and my nights as well. Someone who is just as dedicated to making this company more than it is without losing the integrity my namesake built it on. I can’t recall meeting any other woman with those qualities in the last few years. Except you.”

“You’re taking unfair advantage,” she grumbled, knowing he was attempting to manipulate her decision. The fact that her body was in favor of immediately agreeing didn’t make holding off and thinking the matter through any easier.

The grin he gave her was unrepentant. “I’m a businessman, Lawrence. And there’s nothing fair about business.”

* * *

Mattie stared at the entrance to the Diablo Blanco Club. She’d called and canceled dinner with her sister and come here instead. In fact, for the last eight years, when she couldn’t fight her curiosity, she’d drive by and occasionally stop. On those nights, she sat in this same spot, sometimes for hours, sometimes just a few minutes, wondering just how wild things could be inside the infamous Club. On Halloween it was worse, because she knew a single request could produce one of the exclusive invitations to the Midnight Masquerade.

Now chances were she’d never see the inside of the Club. If she accepted Bryce’s proposal, she doubted he’d escort her inside. She didn’t know what frustrated her more, knowing that her own insecurities had kept her trapped from exploring a sexuality that drew her, or the fact that Bryce didn’t feel she was capable of meeting the needs of his Dominant side. His proposal had been direct and clear: a marriage that included sex, but nothing that would create a negative image to the board of directors. Translated, that meant no bondage play, discipline, or trips through the doors she’d dreamed about entering for years.

The tap at the passenger side window had Mattie turning her attention and thoughts from the man connected to the edifice in front of her to the woman shaking her head at her from outside the truck. Pressing the button, she unlocked the door and waited for her older sister to scramble into the seat.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Lyssa twisted sideways in her seat and leaned against the closed door.

“What’s up?”

“You tell me; you were the one to cancel dinner. I was hoping to hear about the date you had last night.” Curling one leg under her, Lyssa pushed the strands of blonde hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ears.

“I had some thinking to do.” Mattie grimaced. “And as for the date, don’t remind me.”

“Didn’t go well?” Concern lit her sister’s blue eyes as she waited for an answer.

“Let’s just say his idea of dessert and mine differed.”

“Bastard.” Lyssa turned to glance at the building. “I’ll bet it isn’t as scary as you imagine.”

“Probably not.” Mattie shrugged. Arm propped on the door frame and head resting in her palm, she watched as a couple approached the broad double doors. “But I doubt I’ll ever see it.”

“Why? From what I’ve heard it’s relatively tame in comparison to some of the meat markets in San Diablo and farther north.”

“Because, Lys, I know me. I talk a damn fine game, but when it comes to actually playing, the only person I trust to play with isn’t interested.” She glanced back at the Club. “At least not with me.”

“How do you know?” Lyssa’s fingernails, trimmed short to accommodate her sewing and design work, plucked at the frayed inseam on the leg of her jeans.

“He proposed.” Mattie didn’t turn her attention from the DBC. “It would be strictly business, but there’s little likelihood of divorce.”

Lyssa’s fingers stopped for a moment and then returned to playing with the frayed fabric. “Bryce Halsey really proposed?”

Mattie nodded. “There’s a lot more to it, but essentially we would present an appropriate image to the board of directors so Bryce can take over Jacob’s position when he retires.”

“But I thought he was already going to take over?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion.