True Loves (A Collection of Firsts) (43 page)

S
itting
across from Dan Buchanan in this upscale restaurant, I take in his stern expression that’s intended to intimidate me and smile. Buchanan means to display worldly knowledge with his gray hair and multitude of wrinkles, but I know better. This man may have been a shrewd businessman at one time in his life, but not anymore. Being the sole contractor for building mini-bird helicopters for the U.S. military, he’s allowed the wealth he’s earned over the years to cloud his sound judgment making in both his personal and business finances, which is exactly what landed him with a company that’s about to fold. I’ve done my homework on him, just like I do on all my targets. It makes the kill that much easier when I know their weaknesses.

Jack slides the contract across the table to Buchanan. “Here’s the contract of sale, as requested. I figured we’d get the paperwork exchange out of the way so we can enjoy lunch.”

Buchanan’s weasel-dick attorney, Seth James, picks up the document and examines a few lines of it. “We’ll look over it and let you know.”

“Keep in mind,” I interject, “that I already own nearly half the stock in Buchanan Industries. I’m close to being a majority shareholder, and I assure you that will help sway the board in my favor when they see my plan of action to save this sinking ship of a business.”

Buchanan slams his fist down on the table. “Selling our technologies to another country is out of the question.”

I lean forward, resting an elbow on the table. “Regardless of your personal feelings in the matter, selling parts of the business is what’s best, and that is exactly what’s going to happen.”

“No,” he growls. “I won’t allow that to happen. I’ll find a way to buy my stock back from you.”

I set my gaze on him. “That’s not going to happen. You can’t afford it and you’ve already exhausted all your lines of credit to keep the company running long enough to fill the last order you received from the Navy for mini choppers. Face it, Mr. Buchanan. It’s over. Your fate now rests in my hands.”

Buchanan and I continue to stare each other down. I love the challenge in his eyes. Neither of us saying a word while our colleagues, plus his daughter, watch us intently—all of them feeling the tension too. Buchanan absolutely loathes me. I can tell, and I fucking love it.

He doesn’t want to let his baby go. I get that. It’s been his company for a very long time now, but he needs to understand that it cannot be saved. He’s in far too much debt, and he just needs to come to the realization that I’m going to end up with it to do as I please.

This is the most tense lunch I’ve ever attended even though Jack lectured me about keeping this meeting social.

“Good afternoon,” the male waiter dressed in a fitted black suit greets us when he approaches the table. “I am Gerald, and I’ll be your waiter this afternoon. May I start you off with some drinks?”

“Scotch on the rocks for me,” I say when he directs his attention to me.

“Water, please,” Margo answers when the waiter’s eyes expectantly zero in on her.

“I’ll have a scotch as well, and be sure to bring out bread with lots of butter,” Buchanan orders and then dismisses the waiter after everyone else has requested their beverages.

“Daddy!” Margo complains. “You know what the doctor said. Diabetics need to lay off the bread.”

Buchanan gives his daughter a half-sided smile, and it immediately brings the tension around us down a notch. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to bring her along after all. “I know, darling, and I have been, but a man needs to splurge every now and again. It keeps us sane.”

Margo rolls those magnetic blue eyes of hers and sighs. “I really don’t get why you men always want to do things that are so bad for you.”

“It’s in our nature,” he lectures. “All men have their own way of cutting loose.”

Her gaze darts over to me. “Isn’t that the truth.”

It’s hard not to laugh like a schoolgirl with the pure satisfaction I feel knowing that I’m getting to her, but I try to remain stoic without much luck. A ghost of a smile hints at my lips.

“Alexander, did you see this?” Jack asks as he slides his phone over to me.

An email from Yamada Enterprises’ president sits on the screen. My eyes race over the words, knowing Jack wouldn’t be showing me this now if it weren’t important since this is our interested buyer in the Buchanan deal.

I sigh heavily. “Gentlemen, it seems that you’ll have a bit of an extension in reviewing the contract. My business contact for the deal has requested that I meet with him face to face while he is in the states vacationing in Las Vegas. Mr. Sutherland and I will be leaving at the end of the week and will return on Monday—”

“I can’t do that, Alexander,” Jack says next to me. “It’s my . . . cousin’s wedding and I just can’t miss it.”

My lips twist. This isn’t like Jack. First off, he’s never interrupted me in the middle of something, and second, when did he start giving a fuck about some random cousin who he’s never talked about until now?

“Who cares,” I say. “I’m missing my sister’s twenty-fourth birthday party. This is business. Skip it.”

Jack frowns. “I can’t. There’s no way I can get out of this one.”

Before I have a chance to fire off more reasons of why Jack should stop being a pussy and go to this meeting, Margo’s voice cuts between us. “I’ll go with you. I am your assistant, after all.”

My eyes widen. The thought of being alone in Vegas, of all fucking places, with this woman, causes my dick to twitch. I can’t be around her that long and not fuck her. It’ll drive me out of my mind.

“That’s a great idea, Margo,” Buchanan chimes in. “You can make sure whoever is getting this company is worthy. It would be nice for you to make a few contacts.”

I hold up my hand. “Wait, just a minute. This is my deal, and I don’t think—”

“It’ll still be your baby,” Margo purrs next to me. “I promise not to interfere in any way. I just want to learn. After all, you’re known around this city for being able to charm the pants off anyone you set your sights on. I think I can learn a lot by watching you in action.”

“Oh, you’ll see me in action, all right.” I purse my lips and cut myself off, not wanting to say crude things to her in front of her father and fuck up this deal.

Fuck.

I sigh while both Margo and her father watch me intently, waiting for me to give in and take the enemy along with me. The information Margo could gain from this trip could be devastating to the deal, but I doubt they’ll be able to negotiate a better deal for Buchanan Industries with Yamada Enterprises. I have nothing to worry about by allowing her to tag along, and it’ll make Buchanan still feel comfortable that he has gained the upper hand on me because his sweet ball-breaking daughter is his little spy.

“Fine,” I concede. “Margo can go, but once we get back, we put this deal to bed. Agreed?”

Buchanan nods. “Agreed. I’ll have my answer for you by then.”

I roll my shoulders and relax a bit in my chair. Spend the weekend with Margo in Sin City—no problem. I can get through this.

W
hy couldn’t
Alexander King be a pudgy, fifty-something, bald man with bad breath? It would make it a whole lot easier to pretend that I don’t feel the weight of his stare on me every time I go into his office if he were hideously ugly. As it stands now, it’s hard for my body not to respond to him. It’s like I have this visceral reaction to him whenever I’m in his presence, and that scares the shit out of me.

His advances had backed off a bit from a couple of days ago when I caught the hooker blowing him in his office. Thank God. But I can tell he’s ready to make good on his promise to have me beg him to fuck me. He thinks fucking him will break me—that I’m some little twit who wears her heart on her sleeve—and that pisses me off.
He
pisses me off.

The countdown to Vegas is on. In just one day, I’ll be on a private plane heading across the country to the biggest adult playground in the world. I don’t know how being alone with him for an entire weekend is going to go. He was probably right. I’ll want to either fuck him or kill him with my own bare hands, but I guess it will be the latter.

“Margo?” Alexander’s voice rings through the intercom sitting on my desk.

“Yes, Mr. King,” I answer with as much professionalism as I can muster.

He quickly rattles off a list of tasks for me. “I need the daily stock report on Buchanan Industries, a dinner reservation for two at Per Se for seven tonight, and my coffee cup is empty.”

Out of all the things that he asks me to do, getting his coffee irritates me the most. Why in the hell do I have to fetch it? Are his legs fucking broken?

I sigh before plastering on a huge smile that will come through in the tone of my voice as I press the speaker button. “Right away, sir.”

The stock report and coffee are the easy things on the list, but securing a table at Per Se took some finagling. After I had disclosed exactly which Mr. King was requesting the table, it went rather smoothly. Seems his name has quite the pull.

I carry the report and coffee into his office. He holds his hand out for the paper as I set the mug on his desk.

I hope he fucking chokes on it.

I begin to turn away, but his voice quickly halts me. “I didn’t dismiss you yet, Margo.”

My nostrils flare as I spin back around to face him. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

Alexander pushes himself out of the chair and smoothes his red tie, attracting my attention to the definition hiding behind that blue buttoned-down dress shirt. I’ve noticed that when he’s working in his office, he removes his jacket. It almost makes him appear casual and more approachable, but I know better. He’s still an uptight asshole with or without the jacket.

He walks around the desk and stops in front of me before leaning back against the expensive-looking mahogany desk. “Are you all prepared for our trip to Vegas?”

I nod. “Yes. I mean, I will be once I finish packing—”

He shakes his head and a strand of dark hair falls across his forehead. My fingers itch to reach up and shove it back into place. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks.

Stop it! You cannot be thinking about touching this man. He is the enemy and a complete asshole. Get a hold of yourself. Don’t allow hormones to take control.

“I don’t mean your personal items, Margo. I meant do you have all of the necessary tasks designated to the support staff to cover in our absence.”

I bite the inside of my lower lip as it occurs to me that doing that hadn’t crossed my mind. “I didn’t think that was necessary since tomorrow is Friday. We’ll be back in the office by Tuesday, so I just planned to return calls then.”

Alexander studies me intently as he taps his index finger against the smooth wood of his desk. “Time is always of the essence—it’s even more valuable in my line of work. One missed tip on an investment could cost billions.”

I swallow hard as the complexity of my mistake becomes clear. “I’ll make sure Jack’s secretary fields all of my calls and notifies me if something is urgent.”

I have to keep shit together and up my game. While working for King Enterprises isn’t my real career aspiration, I can still learn a lot while I’m here—things that can help me once I’ve found my job niche.

He straightens the cuff of his shirt. “Have a car pick you up tomorrow promptly at eight. The private jet leaves at nine. Apparently the Yamada family has requested my presence at a pool party at the Hard Rock at two, and I’ll expect you to accompany me.”

My eyes widen. “You can’t possibly expect me to attend a meeting in a swimsuit! That’s . . . no . . . it’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not up for discussion.” His voice rings with authority. “You want this job—you play the fucking game and be a good fucking sport while we meet with my business contacts.”

I open my mouth to lash out and tell him that there’s no way on God’s green earth that I’ll be parading around in front of him in a bikini, but the moment he arches his eyebrow, I quickly decide against it. My father will be so pissed if I screw this up. He’s counting on me to schmooze this contact of Alexander’s so that they’ll go to my father directly and make a deal for whatever part of Buchanan Industries they’re after.

“Fine, but just don’t expect me to become one of your paid whores while we’re there. This is just business.”

A playful smirk flirts across his full lips. “I like this tough act of yours—the way you’re fighting against me. It will make the moment your lips are wrapped around my cock that much more enjoyable, Margo.”

I release a bitter laugh, and it fills the inside of his office. “Those suave lines may work on the women you’re used to dealing with, but I assure you, it’ll take more than a few pretty words and a bunch of heady stares to turn my head. I don’t date assholes.”

“But do you fuck ’em? That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it? I don’t ever remember promising you that we’d date. I said we’d fuck. Dating versus fucking is two very distinctly different things.”

I narrow my gaze. “That’s never going to happen.”

“We’ll see.”

We stand there staring at one another. Neither one of us says a word. I don’t know what it is about this man, but he brings out the competitive nature in me like no other. We are at an impasse—both wanting our ways. I need information to help my father, and he wants to destroy me with sex, causing me to tuck my tail between my legs in embarrassment. I don’t see either one of us conceding, so the best that I can hope for is whatever happens in Vegas to tip the scales in my favor and allow me to get the inside advantage that I need.

I
glance
down at my watch and sigh. Diem being late shouldn’t surprise me. After all, I’ve known her for officially twenty-four years this weekend, so Diem being late for her own birthday dinner is a given. That girl couldn’t be on time to save her life. Dad knew that about her too, which is why he left his business to me. He knew Diem was too much of a free spirit to ever be mixed up in the corporate life.

As I pick up my cell to call her again to ask her where she is, she comes bounding up to the table with the biggest smile on her face, making her green eyes brighten and accentuating the emerald shade of the dress she’s wearing.

“You’re late,” I scold her.

Diem waves me off dismissively as the maitre d’ pulls out the chair for her. She tucks a blond strand of hair behind her ear before she makes eye contact with me. “Stop being such a stiff. I wasn’t that late. Besides, I have a really good excuse this time.”

Staying mad at my baby sister is virtually impossible. It’s odd how she got on my very last nerve when I was younger, but after my father died that annoyance fell away and all I wanted to do was protect her. I had to become the man of the family at twenty. When my bitch of a mother decided taking care of an ill man with cancer and her then fourteen-year-old daughter was no longer
her thing,
I became responsible for Diem.

“What’s the exciting news?” I give in and ask because I can tell by the expression on her face that she’s bursting at the seams to tell me something.

Her smile widens. “I sold a painting!”

“You did?” Now the little shit has me grinning like a fool. “That’s excellent news. Which piece did they buy? The self-portrait?”

Her eyes widen and the smile drops from her face. “How did you know?”

I lean back, pleased that not only do I have a mind for business, but an eye for art as well. “I know good work when I see it, and that was your best work to date. It finally made me realize that sending you to that ridiculously expensive art school wasn’t a complete waste of money.”

Diem rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t even act like the money was ever an issue. Besides, going to that school was my dream.”

I sigh. “I know it was, and even though I don’t say it often enough, I’m proud of you. I’m glad you have aspirations and goals, even if they don’t necessarily align with the educational direction I wanted for you.”

She unfolds the white cloth napkin on the table and drapes it across her lap. “Not all of us mere mortals can become cut-throat business moguls like you.”

I smirk at her sassy tone as I reach into the inside pocket of my jacket and pull out the blue box containing her gift. “I shouldn’t give you this for that little quip, but because I don’t want to hear you complain that I didn’t get you anything . . . here you go.”

I slide the box across the table toward her. “Happy birthday, Diem.”

She places her hand on the box while her shoulders slump forward and her mouth draws into a pout. “Are you sure you have to go away this weekend? My party is going to be epic.”

“Afraid so,” I tell her. “Yamada is in the States, living it up in Vegas, and I have to meet up with him to secure a deal I’m working on.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Now I know exactly why you don’t want to cancel. You and Yamada back together again? I smell trouble brewing.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Trust me. Those days are long over with. Besides, I’m taking my new secretary to make sure things stay strictly professional and I don’t get distracted.”

“Margo Buchanan? The Feisty Princess? She’s your new secretary, right? I think taking her will cloud your judgment, and I know she’ll definitely be a distraction to Yamada.”

“The Feisty
what?
” I furrow my brow. “How do you know about her?”

This is news to me. How in the hell does my baby sister always seem to be in the know about everything in this town?

“Everyone calls her that.” She pauses for a beat and then shrugs. “Jack told me about her working for you. The whole Upper East Side is buzzing about it. I remember Margo from high school. She was a grade ahead of me. She’s beautiful, smart, and vicious when it comes to getting what she wants but loyal to the core in respects to the people she loves, or at least that’s what the word is. She’s kind of like the female version of you.”

Diem giggles, and I hate the fact that my sister seems to know more about Margo than I do. I don’t like thinking about Margo because it either pisses me off or makes me horny as hell every time I do.

I need a subject change.

My lips twist. “I don’t think I like you and Jack talking so much.”

“Why?” she fires back.

“Because, Diem, he’s my best friend, and it’s . . . I . . . it’s just asking for trouble.” I grab the glass of water in front of me and take a big gulp, unsure of why I’m allowing myself to get all tongue tied.

“We’re just friends, Alexander. It is possible for a man and a woman to just hang out from time to time without anything else going on.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re taking Margo to Vegas so doesn’t that make her your friend?”

“No, it doesn’t. She hates me. We definitely are not friends,” I tell her.

Diem frowns. “You should do something about that if you want this business arrangement to work out with her. You know Dad always taught us that you catch more bees with honey.”

Diem’s right. Father always said that, and he was known around this city for being a fair and honest man. Unfortunately, I couldn’t use his methods when I took over. I was far too young at twenty to be taken seriously at running a billion-dollar company, which is why I had to be tough—flex my muscle—and show people that I wouldn’t be fucked with.

I lean back in my chair and loosen my tie a bit. Maybe my sister has a point. Being a total dick to Margo doesn’t seem to be making any headway. “What do you suppose I do? Concede and let her win—let her think I’m a pushover? I can’t do that, Diem. It’s not in me to allow someone to get the best of me.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not saying to instantly become a pussy. I’m just saying to lighten up a bit. I know how you get when you think someone is your enemy. You become set on destroying them. Margo might not be as bad as you have her made out to be in your head.”

“Or she could be much worse,” I answer instantly.

“I doubt that. No one is a bigger badass than you.” Diem winks and then laughs. “I think you should just try to be a little nicer. Break through her walls a little and show her that you pay attention. It’ll make this business deal a lot more pleasant for both of you. This should be stress-free because you already have Yamada in the bag. Nothing Margo Buchanan can do will change that so you might as well learn to get along with her.”

My fingers run across my bearded jawline and I sigh. “When did you get so smart?”

She grins. “Turning twenty-four will do that to you. Speaking of that, let’s see what you got me.” Her fingers work nimbly to tear open the Tiffany’s box to reveal the diamond charm bracelet I bought for her. Her fingers slide over the engraving as she reads it aloud. “Love you, Squirt.”

She wrinkles her nose.

I laugh, loving that she still hates the nickname I gave her when we were just kids but won’t throw it back at me because of all the sparkly diamonds surrounding the name.

I pick up my drink. “Happy birthday, Squirt.”