Chandler: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (7 page)

“Genevieve, what are you doing here?” Edward Fasbender seems both surprised and irritated to see his daughter. “I specifically told you I didn’t want you interfering.”

Her spine straightens, and I feel the air bristle. “And then you brought Hagan?”

Hagan. Her brother she’d mentioned earlier. Yeah, now I don’t hate him, but he irritates me for another reason—namely, because he’s competition for her with her father, and though I don’t know a lot about her yet, I know that she’s better than this asswipe.

Maybe that’s an unfair judgment. But I know what it’s like to have a holier-than-thou older brother.

And then he says, “Sucks to be you, doesn’t it?” and I reinstate my first opinion. Hagan Fasbender is definitely an asswipe.

“Very professional,” Genny says, and I give her points for refraining from the name-calling I’ve resorted to in my head.

Edward ignores the exchange between his offspring. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he says, “Thank you for stopping by, but there isn’t a spot for you, princess. Why don’t you go join your stepmother at the nail salon?”

Jesus, he’s patronizing. My hands curl into fists and I can’t express how much I want to slug him.

But then I have another idea—a better idea.

I step forward and slip my arm around her waist. “She’s here with me, actually. As my date. Aren’t you, Genny?”

“Uh.” Startled, she squints up at me, and for a minute I think she might not play along.

Then she smiles. Tightly, but it counts. “Right. My date.”

Edward drops his hand from her shoulder but narrows his eyes in my direction. “And who are you?”

It’s okay. I’d be predatory about her if she were my daughter, too.

Thank fuck she’s not.

I extend my hand in his direction. “Chandler Pierce.”

“Ah, the younger Pierce.” The glance he throws his son is the kind I’m used to getting—the one that says, this man isn’t as important as his brother, but he’s still important; better kiss up.

I usually hate that glance. Tonight, I’m using it to put this turd in his place.

“Younger, less-exhausted,” I say. “I’ve been filling in for Hudson as much as I can. I was at the gala the other night. Your daughter meant to introduce me to you then, but it seems you were otherwise occupied.”

In other words, she’s the only reason I’m giving you my time right now. Get the point, buddy?

His expression says he gets it.

He’s about to fall over himself in flattering me—I know the drill. I don’t let him get that far. “Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to speak some time. Right now, I believe they’re starting to serve our meals.” I turn toward my pretend-date. “Genevieve? Shall we?”

“We shall.”

With my hand still on her waist, I nudge her away from her father and her stuck-up suit of a sibling.

“Goddamned narrow-minded tosser,” she mutters as soon as we’re out of their earshot. She stops walking to complain. “I can’t believe he brought my brother to this event. Hagan’s only interested in how many skirts he can get under in a single trip to the States. He collects sexual encounters like some people collect passport stamps.”

Ah, huh.

“I think I know the type.” I mean me. Hagan and I are cut from the same cloth, it seems. Realizing that, I stand behind my earlier harsh thoughts. I’m definitely an asswipe as well, especially with the speed I go through women.

Though I’ve barely noticed any other skirts since the one on my arm walked into my life.

Which is probably why I’m only just now realizing that I can’t actually have dinner with Genevieve. The reason I’m here in the first place is to feel out her competition. There’s no way I can do that with her at my table.

Just, how do I break the news to her?

“And you!” she exclaims suddenly in a tone that makes me think she’ll take the news just fine. “Are you happy now? You wanted me to agree to a date so badly, you must be happy as a clam that you’ve trapped me into one. You probably followed me here tonight just so you could find your opportunity.”

“What?” I’m floored by her turn of hostility. And I’m more than a little perturbed. “Let’s just get one thing straight right off the bat. I did not follow you here. You think I only have you as an item on my agenda? I do
work
, you know.”

“Really? Doing what? It seems that mostly you just stand around looking pretty.”

It’s probably not a good time to mention the trading company I manage in Iowa because, well, it’s in Iowa.

Besides, she’s kind of not far off from the truth. Not that I stand around looking pretty—though, I
do
look good, if I say so myself—but that I don’t actually seem to have a lot of responsibilities at Pierce Industries. Something that’s been bothering me more and more as of late. That’s a matter to take up with Hudson. Eventually. Not now.

Right now, my focus is on Genevieve. “For your information, I’m here not because of you but because of my job. My
job
. I have an important tête-à-tête on the menu.” So there.

She laughs. Actually laughs
.
“
Important tête-à-tête
. Well, aren’t you fancy.”

“Laugh all you want. I’m glad I can be the source of your amusement.” Is it weird that the more she mocks me, the more desperate I am to win her over?

But like I just told her, I’m not here for her. I’m here for Hudson. For Pierce Industries.

I force myself to stay focused on my agenda and pause to scan the room, orientating myself with the layout so I know where I’m going. “I believe that’s my table right there.” Nate and his date are seated there already. “Do you need me to put you in a cab before we part ways?”

Her jaw drops. “And now you’re abandoning me?”

“You mean, you
want
to stay for dinner? You just got mad at me for trying to make this a date, and now that’s exactly what you want this to be?” Is it totally bad if I kind of want her to want the date? “Which is it, Genny?”

Her eyes flare, I think as much from the nickname as anything else. It’s absolutely adorable.

It’s also absolutely confusing.
She’s
confusing.

“This is not a date,” she hisses. “I didn’t want or need to be rescued, but now that you’ve created this situation, you have to follow through. What will my father think if I suddenly disappear from tonight’s event? I can’t let him win.”

Yeah, I totally get that.

And shit, now we are in a serious dilemma. I can't do what I've set out to with her along. “Maybe he won’t notice if you slip out,” I say.

Except then I realize that he totally 
will 
notice if his daughter goes missing and, more importantly, that she isn't the only deterrent to my evening's agenda because two other people have just arrived at the six-person round where I’m supposed to be sitting, and fuck if it isn’t Edward and Hagan Fasbender.

Looks like it’s going to be one of those nights.

T
here’s
no way Hudson knows that the Fasbenders would also be sitting at his table. Not when he’s told me to keep the discussion with Nathan Murphy on the down-low. I have half a mind to text him right now and tell him the whole plan is off.

Except I’m not a quitter.

Also, I don’t want him to give me any reason for cutting the night short. I’m fucked in the head for feeling this way, but I’m actually kind of excited about having an excuse to spend a whole meal with Genny, and yes, I do take the excuse to let her stay. My assigned task is already hindered by her father. I might as well let her hinder it too.

We sit and make the necessary introductions. Nathan is younger than Edward by about ten years and doesn’t look as comfortable in his tux as the Englishman. His wife is young and mousy, and either extremely shy or extremely bored, considering the amount of effort she puts into the table interaction.

To be honest, the early conversation has me stifling a yawn myself. It’s mostly business gossip specific to the media world, a world I know very little about since I’ve only learned today that our company owns shares in the industry. Though I look for opportunities to add to the discussion, I can’t find any.

Genevieve is equally quiet beside me. From the furtive glances I’ve cast in her direction, I’ve noticed her lips are drawn tight, and I decide she’s biting her tongue. Whether it’s because she’s bristling over her father’s earlier remarks or because she’s pissed she had to lean on me for help, I don’t know.

Honestly, it’s probably a little of both.

It gives me smug satisfaction. So much so that I feel totally comfortable stretching my arm out along the back of her chair. God, the way she glares at me. If I thought following the conversation was hard before, it’s even harder now. And I do mean
hard
. I wish I knew what it was about this girl that makes me so completely turned on and intrigued. The mystery confounds me. I’m as far from understanding her as I am from getting what Hudson’s sent me to this dinner to do.

By the time our salad course is being cleared, I’m antsy. My leg is twitching under the table, my arm tingles from where it brushes against Genny’s shoulder, and I still haven’t found a way to talk covertly to Nathan Murphy when, miracle of miracles, he opens the door for me.

“Any special reason Pierce Industries is representing tonight? Are you guys finally looking to enter the playing field? With the innovative direction you’ve gone recently in the tech world, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that you were.”

Genny straightens in her chair beside me, and I feel all three pairs of the Fasbenders’ eyes move toward me.

This is probably when I should really be feeling the pressure, but it’s just the opposite. Even though I know nothing about the topic, I’m excellent at improvisation. “Haven’t got anything planned that we’re ready to announce,” I say, “but I’m interested in your observations. What sort of role could Pierce Industries take in media?”

I direct the question to Nathan—it’s the perfect opportunity to feel him out like I need to.

Except it’s Hagan who jumps in with an answer. “Easy. Network ownership. You already have the people and talent to start your own programming in either a cable situation or something competitive with Netflix and Amazon.”

I hate to say it, but Hagan Fasbender isn’t exactly the dummy that his sister wishes he were.

His father nods. “All the subscription-based services are focused on entertainment. Pierce Industries could bring news and business programming to the market.”

So Dad’s also a smart one. The two of them piggyback on each other for the next several minutes expounding on their ideas. They’ve obviously thought a lot about this. Their thoughts are well-researched, and it’s not exactly uninteresting.

Okay, it really is. Partly because the male Fasbenders aren’t the ones I want to hear from but also because everything is uninteresting next to the female sitting at my side.

She’s particularly interesting, I realize, when her mind is at work. After listening to her father and brother ramble on and on, she seems to lose her resolve to keep silent and pipes in with her own opinion. “Yes, that’s one possible avenue of expansion,” she says, shaking her head dismissively. “But it’s so narrow in its focus. Pierce Industries has the capability of much loftier objectives, like laying down Internet connections that are on par with Google Fiber.”

“Lofty goals are fun until you have to pay the bill. Remember that, Genevieve.” Edward follows up his patronizing remarks to his daughter with an apology to me. “She’s straight out of school. Hasn’t had a lot of hands-on yet.”

Perhaps it’s because I’m also straight out of school, but I think her plan is really intriguing. “That’s smart, actually. It will take years for Google to spread throughout the nation. There’s definitely an opportunity to step in there. It’s not like Pierce Industries can’t foot that kind of endeavor.” Particularly if Pierce Industries comes out of the dark on its affiliation with Werner Media.

The men at the table take a completely different approach to the idea once I’ve affirmed it, adding supporting commentary and looking on like I’m a wizard of some sort. It’s pathetic. Genny gives me a confused smirk, one that says she’s not sure if she’s grateful for my words or irritated.

It’s so sexy and such fun tormenting her that it makes me want to say more nice things about her ideas. Makes me want to pursue the subject further. Makes me want to lean over and nibble on her earlobe, but that’s probably not the best move I could make.

But laying network fiber…there are so many interesting directions to go from here, and I’m curious whether we could come up with a vision to share with my brother. The wheels start turning.

Until I yank them to a stop. It’s a good idea, but I’m here to find out what Nathan’s good ideas are. And so far I’ve heard practically nothing from the man.

Despite being even more attracted to Genny now that I’ve seen glimpses of her brain, I refocus on Nathan. I try several more times to pull him back into the conversation, but he seems more interested in listening. Maybe he’s not as innovative as Hudson thinks he is. Or maybe he’s just not as eager to brag about his ideas.

But then there’s a lull in the conversation, and it’s Nathan who breaks the silence. “Warren Werner’s receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award tonight,” he says. “What do you want to bet he names his successor in his speech? There’s a rumor you’re in line for the job, Edward.”

Edward answers modestly. “If I truly am, Warren’s not announcing it tonight. Because I’ve been made no such offer.”

“Oh really?” Nathan’s eyes widen. “Then the job might still be open. Whoever gets it is a lucky bastard. Imagine being able to helm that company. The magic that could be made. I would die to get my hands on that position.”

Ah! Then he
is
interested. I shouldn’t have doubted Hudson—his instincts are almost always good. Not that I’m ever telling him that.

But now things have gotten interesting.

Here’s the score—everyone at the table except Nathan and his lovely wife knows that Warren won’t be naming his replacement tonight—or ever, if Pierce Industries doesn’t approve. And pretty much everyone at the table (except Nathan’s lovely wife) is vying for the spot. Which means everyone at the table (including Nathan’s wife because I’ve given her the Chandler grin more than once) is looking at me.

Gotta say it’s a pretty empowering position to be in. Damn, sometimes being a Pierce is pretty fucking bomb.

With the table as my court, I lean back in my chair and ask, “Which direction would you take with Werner Media, Nathan?”

Genny kicks me under the table, and when I glance toward her she mouths, “What are you doing?”

“Making conversation,” I mouth in response and turn back to Nathan.

“But…” Genevieve’s hand falls to my upper thigh. My upper, upper thigh.

My head whips back toward her, and before I can second guess myself, I lean in and whisper, “A little higher and you’ll know exactly how much I’ve been thinking about what’s under your dress.”

I glance down at her lips, which have parted. She swallows.

And now I’m remembering what it felt like when she swallowed around my dick.

Puppies! Kittens! Nathan Murphy in the boardroom with Hudson!

I manage to get myself under control and direct every bit of my attention on Nathan and not the blushing beauty next to me. Definitely not thinking about the inappropriate comments I just made to her.

I almost don’t notice when she politely excuses herself from the table.

Okay, it’s a lie. I totally notice.

“Excuse me. Too much wine,” she says. Which is clearly untrue since she’s barely touched the cabernet in front of her. I’m convinced I flustered her.

I’m thoroughly pleased.

While she’s gone, I find it easier to concentrate, and somehow Nathan and I manage enough of an exchange for me to solidify his interest and mentally mark him as a possible candidate for the job.

Genny returns a few minutes later. After she sits, she moves her hand to mine under the table. I eagerly grab at it, desperate to feel her skin under the caress of my thumb, but she doesn’t let me hold it, pulling away after she drops something in my palm.

Something rough. Something flimsy. Something familiar.

I’m smart enough to not bring the material out into plain sight, but I’m too much of a guy not to look. When I’m confident no one’s watching me, I sneak a peek, and sure enough I’m holding a pair of black lace panties.

As discreetly as I can, I tuck the souvenir into my pocket. I’m biting back a grin when I next glance over at her. A big, big grin. And a semi, but that one’s easier to hide thanks to the whole I’m-still-sitting thing.

Her smile in return is tight. “You wanted to know,” she says softly. Cruelly.

Wanted to know what was under her dress. Yes, I did say that. Though I was more interested in the part that doesn’t come off. The part that the panties were covering.

Jesus, she’s not wearing anything now
.

I am officially never going to make it through this meal.

“What was that, princess?” Edward asks, and it takes me a second to realize he’s heard what Genny just said. I’m beyond glad the question isn’t directed at me because I’d have no idea how to answer.

Thankfully, she’s on top of it. “Chandler has a headache,” she says, patting my leg. “He just gave me a miserable look, and I asked him if he wanted to go.”

Oh, that’s good.
Want to go
does sound like
wanted to know
.

He buys it. “Sorry to hear that, Chandler. You do seem a little pale.”

Probably because I’m still in shock about the gift she’s brought me. And more in shock that she’s doing this to me on purpose. Throwing me off my game for…what? Spite?

“I’m fine. Probably just low blood sugar.” Or rather all the blood running to the wrong part of my body. “I’ll feel better once I finish eating, I’m sure.”

Except, try as I might, I’m no longer interested in eating. Not food, anyway. The only thing I want to feast on is half a foot away, bare under a small skirt of thin material. I barely tasted her today, and all of a sudden it’s the only taste in my mouth. The only taste I want more of.

Especially when she’s playing it so cool. I totally want to knock her off that throne. Want to show her I can get to her the way she gets to me.

I am smart enough to realize that the worst thing I could possibly do at the moment is reach over and stick my hand up her dress. I know this.

But it’s all I can think about.

I pick at my food. Conversation gets harder to follow. I say less and less because of it. At one point, I swear I hear Nathan say, “She’s good and wet.”

Luckily, before my eyes pop out of my head, I realize he really said, “She’s a good bet,” in reference to a stock exchange he and Edward are discussing.

Then dinner is cleared and coffee is served and the lights dim for the award ceremony, and I find that now that I’m not pretending to eat, I no longer have anything to occupy my hands. So it’s not really my fault that my fingers find their way over to her lap. And under her skirt.

Her eyes widen. Her mouth drops. But she doesn’t brush me away. She could easily, too, without anyone seeing. And she doesn’t.

So my hand rests there. Rests on her silky soft thigh, and I think for a minute that this is enough, that I don’t need more.

But I’m kidding myself.

Then she parts her legs slightly, and maybe it’s not an invitation, but it definitely seems like one and how can I know without taking the bait?

Slowly I climb higher, higher, past the natural swell of her leg, to the place I want to be most. My finger brushes against the lips of her pussy, and her breath hitches. I scan the others at the table, then, when I’m sure no one noticed, I make a second pass. This time I continue down to circle the rim of her hole.

And yes. She
is
good and wet.

Damn, it’s amazing.

Paybacks are a bitch though, because not only am I rock hard, but next thing I know, her palm is cupping my groin. She squeezes, and god, it’s all I can do not to let out a moan.

That’s it. I’m going in. I slide two fingers inside her opening. She’s so tight, so perfect. I want to be in farther. Want it to be my cock inside her. I turn so I can get a better angle.

Suddenly, our gazes crash into each other, and I know from the look on her face she’s had the same epiphany I’ve just had—we’re groping each other
in public
. Where who knows who could see.

She stands up and braces the teacup she’s just knocked from rising so quickly. “I’ve…got to go,” she says hurriedly then takes off.

“I’ll make sure she’s okay,” I say, following right behind.

It’s such an obvious exit. But who the fuck cares anymore? Everyone else was so enthralled in the awards, I’m not even sure they remembered we were there.

I keep my eyes pinned on Genny as I wind around the tables. She heads to the bathrooms, and for a moment I feel defeat when I think she’ll disappear into the ladies’ room.