WickedTakeover (14 page)

By Friday, Lauren was so strung out, she couldn’t relax.
After her job interview, she had an appointment with the potential buyer for
the parlor. They’d agreed to meet at Starbucks. She should have been doing
cartwheels down the halls rather than wanting to throw up.

She still hadn’t told Dante or the rest of the team about
the buyer, only her interview. Every time Jasmina saw Lauren, she gave her a
hug and words of encouragement. Even Van Gogh had mumbled, “Good luck,” before
he ducked into his workstation.

Dante kept glancing into her office each time he passed.
Finally, he came inside. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your interview?”

“I already am.” She’d worn her suit to the parlor. Every
time she went up front, customers stared at her outfit then avoided eye
contact, no doubt worried she might try to convert them to some
fire-and-brimstone lifestyle. Lauren couldn’t blame them. After so much time,
she felt weird wearing corporate attire. Phony somehow.

“When’s your appointment?” Dante asked.

“Thirty minutes.”

“And you’re still here?” Grabbing her hand, he pulled Lauren
out of her chair. “Go.”

“It won’t take me that long to get there. It’s not that far
away.”

“You can use the time alone in your car to calm down.”

“Do I look unglued?”

He regarded her for a long moment then murmured, “You’re
beautiful.”

Oh god, she was going to cry and fuck up what little makeup
she had on.

“Hey,” Dante said, his expression confused and worried.
“That’s a compliment.”

“I better go.” Lauren grabbed her purse then tossed it on
the chair and threw her arms around Dante. Hugging him hard, she whispered,
“Thanks for everything.”

He held her gently as though she might break, or he was
already putting distance between them. “You’re going to do great. They’d be
fools not to hire you.”

She snuggled closer. Dante allowed it for a moment then
eased her away. “Go,” he said. “This is your future.”

Right. The parlor wasn’t. He wasn’t. Lauren knew that but
didn’t want to hear it. Trying to hold herself together, she grabbed her purse
again and left.

Dante watched Lauren from the front window of the parlor.
For the last few minutes, she’d been in her car staring at nothing or maybe
everything—like her dream of a new job, having enough money finally, getting
her life back on track, being able to escape this place. She looked so fucking
unhappy, he figured she was picturing it going up in smoke because her
interview hadn’t worked out.

It couldn’t be that she’d miss their days together here.

They’d had wicked fun, no denying that. Too easily, Lauren
had become a huge part of Dante’s life that he’d never regret. She got him. He
got her, except when he hadn’t a clue what she was thinking.

Maybe he should have asked more questions…or not.

Hell, it was time for her to move on. He couldn’t ask her to
stay even though he wanted that. It wouldn’t be fair. He’d be feeding his needy
soul while neglecting her happiness. How long would a relationship like that
last? Could they even have one after she left? Dante wondered if she’d want to
date him, hang out, something.

His gut twisted at the prospect of Lauren going along with
his plan for a while but eventually turning him down in favor of another guy at
her new job. They’d have time to bond at work and maybe play adult games. Him
telling her not to wear panties and to always be wet for him or there’d be hell
to pay. He might paddle Lauren in her new office, the ladies or men’s room
before hours, the staff break room, the stairwell, the—

Shit. You’re losing your mind.

Dante knew he should have gone back to his station to do the
parlor’s endless paperwork but couldn’t until Lauren pulled away.
Come on,
move.
Unless her appointment was just down the street, she’d have to
hustle. If she didn’t turn on her car soon and put on her air conditioner,
she’d probably pass out from the heat. He craned his neck to see if her face
was turning red.

Jasmina joined him at the window. “What are you doing?”

Grieving and behaving like a fool. Dante rubbed the back of
his neck. “Nothing.”

She looked where he had. Her eyes nearly popped out. “Wow.
Lauren’s still here? Shouldn’t she be at her appointment by now? Is she having
car trouble?” Jasmina elbowed him. “Go out there and help her.”

The help Dante had in mind wouldn’t get Lauren to her
interview. He’d offer to split his salary with her and throw in his pickup so
she’d stay at Wicked Brand, which was insane.

“Wait.” Jasmina grabbed his arm even though he hadn’t moved.
“She just started her car. She’s pulling out of her spot. Whoa, thank
goodness.” Jasmina squeezed his arm. “She’s on her way.”

She was leaving. One day soon, she wouldn’t be coming back.

On the drive to her appointment, Lauren tried to cheer up.
If by some miracle she got the job, it didn’t mean she was going to another
planet. She’d still be in the area, not all that far from Wicked Brand.

If Dante didn’t mind altering his schedule a little, they
could have lunch once a week. After the parlor closed for the night, they could
get together. Sure, it’d be late but she’d take a nap after work in order to be
fresh for him. On the weekends, they could stay in bed, snuggled together,
having fun, maybe even falling in love unless he had to work, which he usually
did. The parlor was busiest on Saturdays and Sundays. That wasn’t likely to
change once it got a new owner.

She chewed her lower lip. Okay, so they’d have a lot of
hurdles to overcome but getting together could be doable if they wanted that.
It might even be fun until it became too much of a hassle and he drifted away,
which any sensible guy would. Too many other women were prettier than she was,
built better and had schedules they could accommodate to his.

Lauren’s chest tightened so much it hurt. Ignoring it, she
reached the building where she was going to interview. The last time she’d been
here, there had been five other applicants vying for the same position. To her
surprise, the lobby was empty today except for the receptionist. The young
woman offered a welcoming smile after Lauren introduced herself.

“Please have a seat,” she said. “I’ll tell Ms. Ivers you’re
here.”

Lauren had barely sat when Karen came out of a side office,
dressed impeccably, looking like she ruled the world despite being no more than
thirty-five. She offered a warm smile that enhanced her natural good looks and
put out her hand. “Lauren. So good to see you again. I’m truly glad you could
make it.”

Although Lauren should have expected Karen’s enthusiasm,
given her previous emails, such warmth still floored her. Lauren had grown too
accustomed to third-degree interviews and snarky comments. Finally, she started
to relax and have hope. If she could actually get this great job after so many months
of rejection, maybe she and Dante could work things out. Someday, he might even
feel about her as she did for him. Anything was possible, right?

“Please come in,” Karen said, ushering Lauren into the
conference room where two other staff members waited, one male, one female,
both middle age. They, like Karen and the receptionist, gave Lauren friendly
smiles.

Buoyed, she fairly danced inside.

After introductions were finished, Karen spoke first. “We’re
very excited about this new opportunity, Lauren.”

She nodded, her pulse picking up.

“It involves taking over a new division,” Karen explained,
tapping a stack of papers near her. “We’ve acquired another company and need a
solid professional to make certain everything runs smoothly.”

“Of course,” Lauren said.

Karen fairly beamed at that comment. “The company is willing
to pay for relocation expenses. We need someone to start as soon as possible.
There’s a lot to be done.”

Lauren had stopped nodding moments earlier, not certain
she’d heard correctly. “Relocation?”

“Our newest acquisition is in Pensacola. We’re keeping their
current staff until we can eliminate duplicate positions. We want onsite HR to
make the transition less traumatic. Once that’s over, the HR director there
will operate as an arm of this parent office.” Karen leaned closer and spoke
conspiratorially. “We’ve learned it’s best to have local representation for
staff. A part of the job will be to make everyone feel valued and listened to
in order to reduce problems for management.”

Lauren nodded absently, her mind still stuck on Pensacola,
more than six hundred miles from West Palm Beach. Too far to drive for lunch or
to visit on a regular basis.

She glanced at the papers Karen slid toward her. At the top
was the salary offer, an astounding amount that made Lauren’s breath catch. She
hadn’t come close to making that much at her last position, nor had her title
been as great as this one. It was her entry into the big time.

Peter, the middle-aged guy who was the company director,
spoke of the job’s enormous potential, the growth opportunities it offered.

Lauren’s head continued to swim while her belly clenched.

After he wound down, Abby took over. She was Peter’s
right-hand person and assured she’d be available to offer assistance. “We want
to make this as comfortable for you as possible,” she explained.

They wanted her. Really wanted her. A wave of surprise and
sadness hit so hard, Lauren felt vaguely ill.

Karen studied her closely then said, “We’ll need your answer
by Tuesday as we want to move quickly on this. Please feel free to have your
attorney go over our offer.” She slid several documents across the table to
Lauren. “If you have any questions in the interim, you can call me at home.”
She pulled a business card from her pocket and wrote the number on the back.

Lauren was grateful her hand didn’t shake when she took the
card. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Karen said. “Do you have any questions about
what we’ve discussed so far?”

Lauren couldn’t think of any except why they wanted her to
move so far away and why everything had to be so needlessly complicated in
life. Why couldn’t this have been a job offer in this office? Why did she have
to choose between what she needed to do and what she really wanted but would
never have?

That, of course, settled everything, didn’t it?

As her chest ached with sorrow, Lauren went on autopilot,
behaving like she should, asking how she could best serve the company. What the
timeline was for the milestones they wanted her to hit. She next offered
suggestions for the transition that had all of them smiling.

At last, she was talked out and wrung dry. Everyone joked
for a few minutes and then the meeting ended on a casual note. As though they’d
all been friends for years.

Smiling as broadly as they did, Lauren shook their hands and
left.

For forty minutes she sat in her car, staring into space,
not wanting to think, afraid to feel. If anyone had told her six months ago
she’d be behaving like this after getting a great offer, she would have told
them they were insane.

She didn’t know what to do. Where to go.

At last, Lauren drove aimlessly even though it ate up too
much gas. She even ran her air-conditioning. There wasn’t much of a choice. She
was sweating badly then trembling with cold shakes. Stopped at a light, she
glanced at the time and suddenly recalled her appointment with the parlor’s
potential buyer, Mike Murreski.

Oh shit.

The first chance she got, Lauren made a U-turn and headed
back to West Palm Beach. Starbucks.

Mike was at one of the tables inside, looking remarkably similar
to his photos on the net. A handsome man, fortyish or so, he had a full head of
hair that had already turned silver. His tan enhanced his masculinity. Noting
her suit, and that she was the only one here dressed like that, he waved her
over.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said.

“It’s only been a few minutes. Can I buy you a coffee?”

Despite the chilled air in here, Lauren couldn’t seem to
stop perspiring. Her heart continued to pound. “I’ll have an ice tea.”

Mike ordered then brought their drinks to his table. “I have
to say,” he began, “I was very impressed with your presentation and video. Did
you shoot it yourself?”

She’d taped it one morning before Dante and the others had
arrived, not wanting to bum them out with what she was doing. Lauren nodded.

Mike smiled, showing dazzling white teeth. She wondered if
his tongue or any other part of his body was inked. His arms weren’t.

“Well then,” he said, “let’s get started. “I won’t make this
difficult. I’m definitely interested in buying Wicked Brand.”

Everything started spinning again.

“The price is fair,” he continued. “I love the building and
what you’ve done with it.”

“Van Gogh did all the artwork,” she said, pressing her palms
against the cold plastic cup, hoping it’d cool her down. “It was already there
when I inherited the parlor.”

Mike rested his beefy forearms on the table. “About Van
Gogh. That kid’s a genius. I intend to give him a huge raise right off.”

Lauren found her first real smile of the day. “He’ll love
that.”

“I’ll have him train the rest of the staff, see if he can
get them up to speed with what he does.”

“Oh no.” She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Dante
doesn’t need any more training. He’s fine as he is.”

Mike looked confused. “Dante?” He grew thoughtful for a
moment then nodded. “Of course, the manager.”

“He’s also a tattoo artist.”

“I thought he only managed the place.”

“No.” Lauren frowned. Hadn’t he read what she’d written
about Dante? “He inks and keeps the parlor running smoothly.”

Mike finished his sip of black coffee. “I’m certain he does,
but I have my own manager and crew. The young girl, Jade is it?”