Professional Sin (2 page)

I decide it’s safer to lock the bag in my desk, and I hurry to the elevators.

Chapter 2

As soon as I step through the door, the receptionists motion me over.
 

“Conference room A,” says Eliza. “You’d better hurry.”

Paula nods, pity in her eyes.
 

Still, I start toward the back of the office, toward my desk; an extra two minutes won’t make a difference.
 

Hawthorne turns the corner.

His dark hair is impeccably styled, and his intense blue eyes are fixed on some distant point. He’s wearing a somber suit, a crisp white shirt, and a navy tie spotted with faint yellow dots.
 

Because of his height and muscular build, I’m reminded of an athlete striding into an arena, not a grumpy billionaire businessman in the middle of a stressful week.
 

Buried in thought, he doesn’t seem to have noticed me. The man is money wrapped in power and dusted in sarcasm, and I don’t want to be on his radar.
 

Maybe I can squeeze by—

“Conference rooms are the other direction, Lindsay,” he says, tone abrupt. His gaze snaps to the receptionists, and his angular, symmetrical features settle into a deep frown.

“They informed me,” I say quickly. “I thought it prudent to procure a notebook.”

His head comes up a notch, like bringing a notebook to a meeting is a stupid idea. “No need to
procure
anything except a chair in the conference room. Let’s go.”

And then he snaps his fingers as he walks away, like I’m a doggie.

Hawthorne Tarraget. A man of undeniable sexual appeal—and he has the skills to back it up, believe me—but also, a pompous prick.

Also… my boss.
 

I have no choice but to follow him.
 

Inside the conference room, it’s chaos, with everyone running around. Hawthorne goes directly to Romeo and Slade, who are deep in serious discussion.
 

There’s an empty seat in the corner, and I carefully sit.

The bag goes on the floor, and I use my foot to push it under my chair and as far up against the wall as possible.

While I do this, I’ve got my head up, and I’m looking around. But Hawthorne has noticed. I meet his piercing blue eyes defiantly.
 

Thank goodness someone walks between us, sparing me from a staring contest of epic proportions.
 

My attention turns to Romeo. His tanned brow is furrowed in concentration, and the determined intelligence in his warm brown eyes means that whatever the problem is, he’ll fix it.
 

Romeo is a mess of contradictions. His size makes him intimidating, but his face is gorgeous, angelic even. My body responds on a visceral level. Any woman would.

Heat stings my cheeks as I remember what he felt like inside me.

After I learned his full name, Romeo Wood Bison, I looked him up. Stupidly, I assumed the Wood and Bison were hyphenated, but I soon learned that his ancestors have been in North America for thousands of years.
 

Watching him now, I decide that Romeo actually resembles a bison: imposing shoulders, corded muscles, and thick dark hair. He’s also the most sophisticated person I’ve ever met.

Slade comes over to me. With his classically handsome face and refined bearing, I can easily imagine him as a roguish gentleman on a spirited horse or engaging a villain in a sword fight.
 

“Ace is walking,” he says, his hazel eyes uncharacteristically grim.

He’s referring to Billy Ace, the founder of Food4All, the company my three bosses are about to buy.
Were
about to buy.

It’s not completely unexpected. Ace is slimy and a bit lazy. There are enough rumors that he stole the idea from a college friend that I assume it’s true. Hard to ask the roommate, who has since been deported back to China. I haven’t met Ace, but I know the type. Chip on his shoulder, thinks he’s smarter than everyone else. Not the sort of person I’d want to do business with, but what do I know?

“Why?” I ask.

Slade shakes his head and runs a hand through his silky dark hair. “He wants more money. Again.”
 

I glance nervously at Romeo. This deal has been very public, and a failure now will tarnish the reputation of the company the three men run together. I know better than anyone how important image is, how the right projection can throw doors wide open.

“Are you going to up the offer?” I ask.

“I want to,” Slade says loudly enough to get Romeo’s attention.
 

“One person blackmails us, then everyone’s doing it. Our company is too new to start off like this,” Hawthorne practically snarls. “We’ll be dead before we start.”

“This technology, with or without Ace, gives us an advantage,” Romeo says. His deep, rumbling voice makes me squirm in my seat. “We need to stay focused on our goal.”

“Buy it without Ace,” I suggest. “No one is irreplaceable. It would save a lot of money, too.”

Slade smiles. “I also thought that would be a good compromise. We get what we want, and we won’t have to deal with Ace going forward.”

Romeo holds up a hand for silence, and the room falls quiet. This joint venture of theirs is primarily financed with his capital, and the company is operating out of his offices.

I’m not sure why that is because all three men are extremely wealthy; they could have been equal partners. They chose this arrangement for some reason unknown to me.

“We’ll attend the meeting tomorrow as planned. Let Ace conclude that we’re giving in and are being surly. Then I’ll lower the offer by six percent, with or without Ace,” Romeo says.

“And if they accept but we don’t get Ace?” Hawthorne asks. “We’ll be overpaying by millions.”

“I’m more comfortable with that by the minute,” Romeo says. “The tech is solid. We don’t
need
him.”

Hawthorne barks out a disbelieving laugh.

“It’s… an elegant solution,” I say. “It makes Ace look unimportant and unnecessary. It’s also a vote of confidence in your own technology department.”

Hawthorne shakes his head. “No. It makes us look like suckers who overpaid.”

Slade taps his finger on the table. “Not if we spin it first.”
 

Arms crossed, Hawthorne leans against a wall. “Let the record show that I adamantly oppose this. If you’re lucky, they’ll turn down your offer. That’s the best outcome.”

Smiling, Romeo claps his friend on the shoulder. “Your objections are duly noted.”
 

Twenty minutes later, almost everyone in the conference room has been dispatched. I, however, haven’t been dismissed yet. I finger-comb my long hair and twist it up into a bun, which I clip in place.

Romeo comes over. “Where were you?” he asks.
 

Because of his impressive size, he’s scary when he’s not smiling. The way he’s looking at me now makes me wonder if I’ve got thirty seconds left to live.

“At the doctor,” I say confidently.

“No problems with your insurance card?” Hawthorne asks casually.
 

“Nope.” I’m starting to get a bad feeling.

“Not too long of a wait?”

“There was a delay. That’s why I’m late.” I try to smile, but it’s clear that Hawthorne suspects something.

He snorts. “This is the woman whose advice you’re following?” he says to Romeo. “Every word out of her mouth is a lie.”

I feel my face heating with embarrassment. Anger, too, even though yes, I did lie.

Romeo’s dark eyebrows gather together. “When we couldn’t reach you again, I was concerned, so I contacted the doctor’s office. The answering service said that due to a gas leak, they’re closed today and tomorrow.”

For a moment I’m dumbfounded. Obviously I’ve been caught, and in addition to the embarrassment, I feel… guilty.
 

Romeo and Slade, and yes, even Hawthorne, have been good to me. Better than I deserve. I wish I didn’t have to lie to them.

But it’s an automatic habit, a reflex. Nothing personal.

“Please wait at your desk,” Romeo says. “We need to discuss this amongst ourselves.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Did you need clarification?” Hawthorne asks me pointedly.

My mouth snaps shut. I’m halfway across the room when Hawthorne says, “You forgot your bag.”

I turn, too quickly. Hawthorne is already pulling out the chair to access the bag. My heart pounds a hole through my chest while he studies it.
 

“Not really your style, is it? Totes are practical, but you’re hardly a practical woman,” he says as he hefts it. “But then, you’re feeling
prudent
today.” Smirking, he finally hands it over.

Not trusting my voice at the moment, I just turn and leave. The second the door closes behind me, I freeze. I want to go back in and plead my case.

In the end it’s easier to walk away.

At my desk, I make space for the bag in the back of the bottom drawer, which I lock up tight.
 

Once that’s done, I turn on the computer and pull up my work. There’s still quite a bit of reading to do before the meeting tomorrow, and I need to know the material—which is all about negotiation strategies—backward and forward.

Concentrating when my gut feels full of rocks? Not easy.
 

Thirty minutes later, I give up. All the fluttering in my stomach is making me queasy, and something like tears lurks hot behind my eyes. It’s not just my future that I’m worried about. I betrayed my bosses. They probably don’t consider me a friend, but they’re the closest I’ve had since I was sixteen.
 

These men pulled me out of my crappy sales position and gave me a job with real potential. Plus the salary… far more than I deserve, even with my embellished résumé.
 

I’ve never felt so low in my life.

There’s no reason to believe my bosses are still in the conference room, but I go there anyway.

Just as I’m about to knock, I realize I can hear low voices on the other side of the door.
 

Telling myself that I just want to make certain I’m not interrupting something important, I tilt forward, my neck craned, my ear pressing against the polished wood.

“I’m telling you, she’s untrustworthy,” Hawthorne is saying. “Remember, I caught her stealing from Sunrise Imports. Yes, she’s hot. Yes, she’s smart and insightful. She’s got potential. But what good is that if we can’t trust her?”

His criticisms, while irrefutable, have me blinking away tears.
 

I want to throw open the door and tell him I’m not really like this. I want to fall to my knees and beg their forgiveness.

But that’s not who I am, either.

“You also said you think there’s more to her story,” Slade says.
 

“Obviously there’s more.” Romeo’s words are clipped. He’s not just angry, I realize; I hurt him. I made him look like a fool.

My racing heart slams to a stop, and I have to open my mouth to get enough air into my lungs. Romeo was always my biggest ally. Giving me this job was his idea.
 

“I don’t know, Romeo,” Slade says. “I agreed with you at the beginning, and I like her, or the glimpses of her that shine through all the bullshit. But it’s been almost a month and she’s still playing games. Frankly, I don’t know that sending her in tomorrow is wise.”

“It’s too late to find someone else,” Romeo says, and I feel a tiny flutter of optimism.
 

“He’s right,” Hawthorne says. “Let’s go forward as planned. As soon as it’s over, she’s gone. Romeo?” There’s regret in his voice, and it touches me.

“You’re probably right,” Romeo says. He sounds resigned. “But… I don’t know. Let me think about it over the next few days.”

Now my eyes are brimming with tears, which can’t be doing my makeup any favors. I hurry to the closest bathroom. It’s a strange location to be fighting a mental breakdown. The bathroom is soothing, an oasis. It smells faintly of baby powder, the lighting is pleasantly soft, and the floors and sinks are spotless.

My fingers curl into fists, so hard that my knuckles ache. I avoid the mirror, instead staring at the sink while I take calm, measured breaths and try to think clearly.

Hawthorne wants to get rid of me, but I don’t want to go. I feel safe here. The nature of their business, and my place in it, is more private than any of my previous jobs. There’s no list of employees and photos plastered across the website. I’m not spending hours every day on sales calls, leaving behind a trail of potential witnesses.

No, no matter how much my pride is hurt, leaving isn’t an option.

The solution is obvious. Hawthorne, Slade and Romeo may be angry, but they’re businessmen first and foremost.

My grandfather taught me that successful businessmen are predictable; they’ll deal with people they despise if it’s best for the bottom line.
 

I’ll just have to make myself indispensable.
 

When I walk out of the bathroom, Hawthorne is leaning stiffly against the wall, like he’s holding up the building.

I feel the blood drain from my face.

They must have changed their minds and now want to send me away immediately.

“I’m really sorry—”

“Follow me.”

Chapter 3

Hawthorne walks past the conference rooms, past the offices that he and Slade use when they’re working out of Romeo’s building.
 

I’m confused because as far as I know, there’s nothing at the end of this hallway. I can’t imagine why he would bring me here unless he wants to have a private conversation. But if he wants that, why not use an empty office?

But then he makes a sharp right, and I see a small doorway. He pushes through it and there’s a short hallway, an elevator there, already waiting. It’s small, barely big enough for two people, and paneled in red velvet.
 

It’s so out of place in an office building.

Hawthorne is facing me, his expression impatient, and I step into the elevator with him. It’s too close, and to distract myself, I stare at the control panel.