Billionaire With a Twist (9 page)

Now, I just wanted to crawl under the
table and disappear.

“So, what did you do before you
took over Knox whiskey?” I said quickly, tossing the
conversational ball back to him and hoping that he would pursue it
instead of my revelation.

And bam, there was that tension again,
tightening his shoulders until they were nearly up around his ears.
His voice was much too carefully casual as he replied, “Oh,
nothing much. Wasted a lot of time and money, according to Chuck.”

Why did that defensive posture make my
heart hurt so much? Why did I want so badly to touch his cheek, to
tell him everything would be okay?

“I wouldn’t take anything
that asshole says too seriously,” I said instead.

“I kind of have to.” The
admission seemed to jump almost involuntarily out of his mouth, and
this time my gaze was the one startled up to his. His eyes were as
fierce as a hawk’s, and as intent. “You said your ideas
were coming along?”

“Yes.” Like I was going to
share them now, after he’d ripped my whole profession apart.
They were going to be untouchably, unquestionably, 100% perfect
before I let them go before his judgment now. “I’m still
brainstorming, but they’ll be ready soon.”

“Better not take too long.”
Did I say his shoulders were tense before? He had practically been
lounging compared to the stressed posture he assumed as he looked
away, out over the setting sun, almost drowned in the lake. His
profile was dark, cast in shadow by the meager lanterns strung around
the porch. He let out a long sigh. “Chuck is ready to launch a
takeover. I’ve only managed to retain forty-nine percent of the
shares.”

I couldn’t help it; I gasped.
“Chuck has the rest?”

“Only twenty-five percent,”
Hunter admitted. “But that’s a lot. And he can influence
the other shareholders. He…knows things, about a lot of them.
Things they’d want to protect, that they wouldn’t want
other people to know. So. They’ll follow his lead.”

I felt like the weight of the world had
suddenly been dropped on my shoulders. What was I doing, sitting
around mooning over this man? He clearly had bigger things on his
mind, and so should I.

“I—I should go.” I
stood. “Thank you for a lovely dinner, but I—should get
back to work.”

“I suppose I should as well.”

Hunter stood quickly, trying to push in
his chair; it bumped against mine, which whacked into my leg, and I
stumbled, cursing my decision to wear heels to dinner—

Hunter caught me.

“Are you all right?”

His voice was so deep, and it rumbled
through me—I could feel his chest rising and falling with each
breath, I could feel his heartbeat through his skin—he smelled
like bourbon and cedar and oh, his hands were so strong and warm—

His eyes, gazing down at me in concern,
his eyes were like molten gold—

“I’m fine,” I
whispered, breathless.

And then the moment passed. Hunter
released my arm, stepped away. “Good.”

I took a step backward too. I seemed
like the only thing to do. “Well, I’ll be going.”

And yet I didn’t move.

“So will I.” Hunter turned,
and then turned back. For a second, my heart filled with ridiculous
hope.

“Thank you,” he said. “For
all that you do.”

“We soulless minions aren’t
so bad after all, eh?” I tried to joke.

But his smile was perfunctory and far
away, and he was unreachable once more as he turned and walked away
from me.

I was hitting a brick wall. No. A brick
wall was practically a feather pillow compared to the wall that I was
hitting. This was a marble wall, no, a diamond wall, hell, this was a
wall made of some super hard experimental carbon fiber. And I was
running into it again and again.

I knew the social responsibility angle
was the way to go, but I just couldn’t make the copy sing. I
had to make the customers fall in love with the company, not bog them
down in a history lesson.

Knox has a long proud history of—

No, no, it was crap, it was all crap,
everything I had ever written was crap.

I couldn’t let Hunter down like
this.

Hey, bro, you hear about Knox?
They’re pretty dope, ‘cause—

Even worse. Fucking terrible. I sounded
like a ‘Don’t Do Drugs’ video written by a
fifty-year-old man.

Maybe statistics would save me.

Compared to liquor companies of a
comparable size, Knox has donated a quantitatively larger percentage
to charities and nonprofits—

“Dammit!” I threw my pencil
against the library wall and glared at the book. If it wasn’t
so old that it was worth more than my entire apartment, it would’ve
been getting the same treatment.

I needed a preliminary campaign by the
end of the week, and I was going around in circles. Knowing how high
the stakes were for Hunter wasn’t helping. There was so much
riding on this for both of us.

But apparently the universe thought I
needed a reminder of that, because just then my phone rang. It was my
boss.

“Just calling to check in,”
he said breezily. I could hear seagulls in the background. Was he
calling me from his yacht? He was definitely calling me from his
yacht. “How’s it going?”

“Great! Everything’s
falling into place; I’m on the right track.” It wasn’t
really a lie, was it? It was just a little…chronologically
misplaced. I’d totally be on the right track by the end of the
day, and what my boss didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Wonderful,” he said. There
was a little slurping sound. Probably downing champagne. “Do
you need any help? This is your first big rodeo after all.”

“Nope, I’m good!”

“Are you sure? Harry Blackstone
and his boys just wrapped up a beaut of a project for Mammoth Tire
Company, under time, under budget, and the numbers we got coming
in—wow! Those guys are definitely looking at some big Christmas
bonuses. I could fly them down, have them oversee your thing, give
you a few pointers.”

“No, I’m fine!” I
tried not to sound desperate, but the pitch of my voice sounded like
it had risen at least an octave.

“Uh-huh.” I couldn’t
tell if he was buying it, but his voice took on a warning tone. “I
went out on a limb for you on this one, Allison. Lotta guys on the
board didn’t think you were ready. Don’t be ashamed to
ask for help if you need it.”

“I will!”

“Well, all right. Long as you
don’t let us down.”

“I won’t, I promise!”

After a few meaningless pleasantries
that left my memory as soon as we made them, I ended the call and
tried to return to work. But suddenly, all my notes might as well
have been written in Sanskrit.

So much was riding on all this…what
if I failed?

I looked out the window, at the
beautiful expanse of green and gold and blue.

Maybe a walk would clear my head.

#

“Ally!”

Hadn’t even made it to the front
door of the manor house when I heard Martha calling my name. I caught
up to where she was leaning across a car in the driveway and frowned,
uncertain for a second why she looked strange to me before the answer
came to my wearied mind.

When I’d first seen her, she’d
been dressed professionally, with black slacks, a white button down
blouse, and her curls pulled back into a ponytail. Now she was in
lace-up boots, a short skirt, and a red tank top that showed off her
figure to great advantage without quite crossing the line into
trashy. Her hair was done all nice too, in soft waves that spilled
across her shoulders, and her nails were painted. She was even
wearing a few pieces of simple sterling silver jewelry.

“Hot date?” I asked.

“More like an investment in a
future hot date,” Martha said with a toss of her hair. “My
cousin wrangled me an invite to a frat party, and I figure I can
dazzle a few tasty college boys with a look at a real woman.”

“Well, I wish you the best of
luck,” I told her, while privately thinking,
better her than
me.
I’d had enough of frats in college, and the last thing
I wanted was to have to revisit those inebriated—

Wait a minute.

The college market was the one
demographic we were missing out on, big-time. Maybe the reason all my
copy was falling flat was because I was too out of touch. Maybe if I
saw our potential customers in person, I’d have a better idea
what to aim for.

“Could I—” I
hesitated, uncertain, then charged ahead. “Could I come with
you?”

“Really? Sure! But—”
She eyed me. “Want to change first?”

I looked down at my ratty T-shirt and
baggy jeans, chosen for this walk because they were the most
comfortable thing to have an anxiety attack in. Definitely not my
most seductive combo, but then, I wasn’t looking to get laid
tonight. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry I led you to
believe that was a question and not a command,” Martha said,
holding the door for me. “If you don’t have anything
good, we’ll hit the mall first. We’re taking the Rolls
Royce—Mr. Knox lets me use it for emergencies, and believe me,
the state of that outfit definitely qualifies as a disaster.”

#

The first few minutes of the drive were
spent trying to not scream as I clutched at the seat with white
knuckles, Martha laughing maniacally as she gunned the engine.

“Are you trying to exceed the
speed of light?” I shouted.

“Hey, if I can time-travel to the
start of this party, it just increases the size of my future
man-harem. You think I should stop at seven? I’m thinking I
could handle nine, but I don’t want anyone to get jealous. Sooo
boring.” She laughed wildly, and leaned on the gas pedal.

I hung on for dear life, mouthing
prayers to baby Jesus.

Once we got to the interstate, Martha
slowed down to something approaching the speed limit and turned down
the country music blaring from the speakers. Carrie Underwood’s
voice dwindled down to almost nothing as Martha turned to me. “So,
how’s work?”

“Ugh,” I said. “Like
slamming my face into a shark, but less rewarding.”

Martha laughed, and patted my knee.
“Oh, you poor thing.”

“I’m hoping going out
tonight will jar something loose,” I said. Maybe I shouldn’t
have been confiding so much in Hunter Knox’s assistant, but she
was just so laid back, so real, so easy to talk to. Also, the
near-death experience of her driving was making me want to get some
things off my chest. “Help some of the things rattling around
my brain connect, spark something.”

“Speaking of sparks, you and Mr.
Knox…” Martha started with a sly smile.

“He told you about that?” I
blurted. “It was just the one time, I swear—”

Martha’s eyes widened. “Holy
moly, girl, you mean you actually cracked old Stoneface?”

Well, the cat was out of the bag now. I
took a deep breath. “One time, like I said. Before I got this
job. Before I even knew he was the one who could get me this job.”

“And that’s the reason why
you haven’t been making any more moves on him?” She
cocked an eyebrow at me, paying an alarmingly low amount of attention
to the road. “Girl, your reasoning is flawed. Have you seen
that ass? Ain’t no amount of corporate ethics worth passing up
that ass.”

I admitted that I had indeed seen that
ass, and it was a fine ass indeed. “But I can’t get
caught up in some relationship drama. This is my first real big
chance to prove myself at work. And he’s got worries of his
own; he doesn’t need me mooning around over him. Plus, it was
nothing. Just a random hook-up. No big deal.” My attempt at
sounding nonchalant fell flat. I’ve always been a bad liar.

“Right.” Martha rolled her
eyes. “Look, I can tell he’s into you. I’ve never
seen him light up the way he does when anyone mentions your name. And
Hunter’s into all that noble ‘proving yourself’
bullshit too. But you’re like the ‘play’ to his all
work. And he needs that. So if you ask me, I’d say you two are
made for each other.”

I was barely listening to her rattle
on, because my mind was stuck on one thing that just didn’t
make sense. “Wait a second, Martha. What’s with the
‘proving yourself’ thing? He’s
Hunter Knox
.
What’s he got to prove?” I asked.

“Are you kidding me?”
Martha took a hand away from the wheel to gesture, and I struggled to
focus on her words instead of on my imminent death as the car swerved
slightly. “He spent a couple years after college trying to set
up his own business, and it tanked, and Chuck and all the rest of
those assholes on the board have never let him forget it. They treat
him like a total loser, like everything he touches is going to blow
up. Never mind that since then he’s actually brought profits up
across the board for Knox and gotten up one of the highest employee
satisfaction ratings in the country. Never mind how many times he
gets on the cover of Forbes or is asked to advise on a government
think tank. Nope, who cares about that stuff? For Chuck it’s
just a broken record of that one failure, over and over and over
again!”

She was practically shouting as she got
to the end of the sentence, and she struck the horn angrily as she
finished, confusing the hell out of the guy in the pick-up in front
of us.

I regarded her thoughtfully. “You’re
really loyal to him, huh?”

Martha’s face was serious as she
nodded. She took a deep breath, and went on more calmly. “He
took a chance on me. My last job before this…I messed up. I
messed up bad. My no-good drunk of a dad had cleaned out my savings,
and I was barely scraping by, and my boss…he left a bunch of
jewelry in his desk, in an open drawer. I saw it, and I thought about
all the times he groped my ass or yelled at me for dumb mistakes, and
I thought…well, I thought, this is compensation, you know?”