What They Don't Know (Won't Hurt Them Trilogy #1) (11 page)

“We do?”

“Bria, I told you
this thing is huge. Your talents may seem like nothing to you, but
you create magic. You also bring people together. Almost matchmaking,
a love connection even. You should be pleased that people will pay
for this sort of service.”

“Let me make
these changes, and I will send them to you right away. I have a noon
appointment, so I’ll have them to you before then.”

“Does this noon
appointment have to do with Bryant?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Good, I’m glad
you’ve reconsidered it.”

“Really, why? Tony’s
great with numbers.”

“He is, but you’ll
have Bryant’s best interest.”

Why does everyone keep
saying that? But I don’t say this to Mr. Wilke.

“All right.”

“See, this business
Bryant has bought into is not completely failing; but potentially it
will, if Bryant doesn’t step in.”

“Oh.”

“The issue is his new
business associate. Mr. King is no longer the owner of the company.
However, he doesn’t want to see his brother fail; it’s a family
business. Once he removed himself from it, his brother lost sight of
what’s important to the family name.”

“Oh.” I raise my
eyebrows.

“I know all too well,
what that’s like.”

“Right, I almost
forgot. Congratulations, officially.” Referring to the recent name
change of Wilke & Foster Industries to Wilke Industries Finance.

“Bryant’s ability
to rid a company of bad links is dead on.”

“I know, I’ve heard
stories,” I respond.

“He needs to focus on
that alone; and if Mr. King’s brother is the bad link, Bryant won’t
hold back.”

I wince at the
statement because I know how brutal Bryant can be.

“This will be where
you come in at Morgan Entitlement Enterprise companies.”

“Well, I'll make sure
the financial background matches all revenue earnings from prior
years. We will need to figure where the company started to have
problems.”

“Yeah?” he says as
if that's not the only reason I'm there.

“Is there anything
else I should know?”

“As a matter of fact,
there is. Be careful of Mr. King. Bryant mentioned that he is a very
single bachelor.”

“Mr. Wilke, this is
business, nothing more. Besides”—I shrug my shoulders—“Bryant
and I have talked about our ‘friendship’.” I motion air quotes,
as he laughs at me.

“Friendship,” he
says using the same gesture. I stand to leave his office.

“Yes. It’s
something, not sure what; but as long as I have my best friend, I
don't need a romantic relationship.”

“Unhealthy,
sunshine.”

I just stand there with
my mouth open. “That's what he said.”

Mr. Wilke just sits in
his chair and laughs. “That Bryant is a smart man; don't take him
for granted.”

“Trust me, Mr. Wilke.
I'm aware of Bryant's intentions. I just don't want to lose him in
spite of, you know?”

“Yeah, I do, so keep
him focused.”

“Will do,” I say.

“Keep an eye on King;
make sure he's legit. You can handle all of this, right?”

“I can. I won't be
full time with Bryant’s project,” I disclose.

“Right, right. How
much time will you dedicate to your own business?”

“My business?” I
say aloud. “I haven't even given that a thought.”

“Bria, I'm only
providing start-up cost, and clientele, love. You are the brains
behind this operation, which reminds me. You have to develop a LLC,
okay, by E.O.W.” He puts emphasis on it.

“End of Week, boss?”

“Yes. That's your
deadline.”

I stare at him as if it
can't be done.

“Are you okay with
that?”

“Yes, that's fine.
I’ll have one by then.”

“Good, it's all done
then, sunshine. Make those changes, send them to me for final review,
and I'll forward them to my lawyer.”

“Okay, boss.”

“Bria?”

“Yeah?”

“You can do this.”

I nod in agreement, as
I turn to walk back to my office.

Time gets away from me,
as I make the necessary changes to my business portfolio. I look over
it for a second time. When I’m done, I send it to my boss. I’m a
little pressed for time, but I manage to update the files for the
beginning of the week’s forecast. I email them to my counterparts
in the company, so they can stay on task. A promotion granted me
manager status and personal assistant to Mr. Wilke. It’s a bit
much, but I can handle it. There’s no consistency with my social
life, and I’m fine with that too. I love my job; socially I’m a
drag, but professionally, I rock.

As I prepare for my
noon appointment with Cruz, one of my co-workers walks into my
office.

“Hey, Bria, how ya
been?”

“Hey, Lisa, I’m
good. Can’t complain.” She’s holding a piece of paper that she
seems to want to question.

“Is this correct?”
She holds up the email I just sent out.

“Let me see.” I
look over the email; to assure I didn’t make any mistakes. The
figures are correct, and I look up at Lisa.

“Yeah, they are,” I
inform her, as she sits in the chair on the other side of my desk.
“Something wrong?” I ask. Lisa and I had a great friendship until
my promotion. She felt the need to revert to co-worker. I get the
feeling she thinks I would out her to our boss about our girls’
nights out. They are wild, but I’m not that person. She doesn’t
know that though. I couldn’t care less about what she does, and I
know Mr. Wilke doesn’t care one way or the other.

“Yeah, something is
wrong, Bria. I miss you. And is it true about the merger?”

“Oh, my non-mistake
in the email, was a ploy?”

She laughs, “Yeah,
Bria. I miss our nights out, our talks. Well, your ear is what I miss
most. You listen to all my life issues.”

“Lisa, it’s been
all kinds of hectic lately, and you went all David Chappelle on me.”
We both laugh. “There will be a meeting tomorrow concerning
business relations and what have you. So tell everyone announcements
will be made tomorrow. Oh, I see what you’ve done. You don’t miss
me, or girls’ night out.”

“What?” She lets
out an appalled scoff.

“You don’t really
miss me at all?” I make an inquisitive comment.

“Bria, I do. I was
worried, scared actually. You and Mr. Wilke are close; your families
know each other. I didn’t know what to think.”

“I understand, but
you have to know I’m not that type of person. I would be just as
liable as you would. Has that ever occurred to you?”

“No, not really. I
just thought, you know. You being in your current position—”

“What? That’ll I’ll
get a big head?” I interrupt her before she can complete her
sentence. I shake my head.

“I guess,” she
whispers.

“Not me. Lisa, you
know that. The things you and I have done together, I’ve only done
with you. I had no real social life before you. Then you distanced
yourself, and I went back to watching the Discovery Channel.” She
laughs with her hand over her mouth.

Lisa is a very
attractive woman. She’s two years younger than I, and wild as shit
after work. Two different people.

“You can laugh, but
it’s not funny, Lisa. I can’t believe you thought I’d out you.”

“I’m sorry!” She
jumps up, and runs around my desk to hug me.

“No apologies needed.
Just don’t go spreading any rumors, about how mundane I am.”

We both burst into
laughter.

“Let me make it up
you, Bria, please? Girls’ night out Saturday. I’m not taking no
for an answer.”

“Okay, crazy lady,
Saturday.”

“Yay!” she yells,
and claps like a two-year-old. Lisa is a hard-ass, but a girlie-girl
always. She’s rough around the edges, but her heart is huge. She’d
help the world if she could. That’s why I keep her around.

“I’m not trying to
put you out, but I have a noon meeting, which I’m not quite done
preparing for.”

“Okay, okay. I’m
gone. By the way, the forecasts are on point for this week.”

I let out a chuckle. “I
know, Lisa. You could’ve just called, but it was great catching up
with you.”

“Touché,” she says
and walks out.

* * *

I am fifteen minutes
early, as I pull up to a very masculine two-story office building off
LaSalle Avenue. The address Cruz gave me didn’t seem like the one
for the health club. According to my GPS, I’m here; however, I feel
like I shouldn’t be. Inside the lobby, there’s a security desk
with a handsome man sitting behind it. I laugh to myself because he’s
well dressed and looks as if he works as a member of the secret
service.

“Good afternoon,
Miss, can I help you?” The green-eyed man distracts me with his
smile. He is gorgeous; it’s hard to look away. “Good afternoon,
I’m Ms. Watts I’m h—”

“Oh, yes,” the
green-eyed man interrupts. “Mr. King is expecting you. You go
straight down that hall and make a left. His office will be right in
front of you.”

“Okay, thank you,
si—”

“Dusdin,” he
interrupts me again. “Sparks, Dus-din Sparks.” He repeats a
little slower and efficiently with his introduction, so I can
distinguish each syllable in his name.

“Dusdin, thank you,”
I reply.

As I walk down the
hall, I think that was a bit odd. He’s definitely an employee of
Cruz’s. I can see the developing arrogance. I get to the end of the
hall and turn left as I was directed. My eyes bug out at the sight
before me. I turn into what is the entire side of a building, which
happens to be huge. Why in the world does one man need so much space?
Before I sarcastically answer my own question, my attention is focused on a stocky man standing in what could be two doorways.

Cruz stands in the
opening to another area of his office. It's different, but I think
this is a foyer of some sort. It's nicely decorated in calm
colors; the paintings are of abstract art. Not Van Gogh or Monet, but
it still says high-class. Cruz’s hazel eyes are cold, and his stare
is intent as he stands there watching me with the door open. I'm not
quite sure when, but I start to move toward him. Cruz ushers me with
his hand at my back. His touch is very warm; I can feel it through my
blazer. Cruz hasn't said anything; the force in the room is alarming,
as he continues to guide me to a larger area with another door
attached. I break the silence.

“You have an office
in an office?” Cruz still hasn't said a word. With his hand still
on the small of my back, he continues to guide me to the chair at his
desk. He manages to pull it from his desk with his other hand, as if
he doesn’t want to lose the physical touch he has on me. As he
signals for me to take my seat, I notice his black slacks and shirt
are not necessarily business-wear, but are very complimentary to his
body frame. The man’s ass is—
Stop
it, Bria!

He sits behind his desk
and places his finger on his chin as if he's thinking. I look at him
quickly with a raised brow and back down at my briefcase, trying to
disregard his stare. I pull my portfolio from it, and he still
watches me. I have to break this awkwardness.

“Good afternoon, Mr.
King.”

“Good afternoon, Ms.
Watts.”

Thank
God, I was feeling a bit intimidated.

“What do you have for
me today?”

“Well, I've put
together a short business portfolio of what I know so far about your
company.”

“Not my company,”
he states. I eye him for a second in confusion.

I fumble with the
folder, turning it in my hand because my confusion has me
contemplating whether to give it to him or not.

“It's my family's
company,” he follows up from the last statement. “It
was
a family company I should say,” he clarifies. “I was bought out
by my brother some years ago. I wanted to broaden my investments. As
you know, Bryant will purchase half of the company’s investments.
That will make him a whole, but half owner of the company.”

“I see. Bryant
purchased a full half, as your family breaks up the other half, of
course.”

“Smart woman.” He
smirks at me. I hand him the portfolio with the plan to divide and
sell. I prepared two to present, in the event this conversation of
the company's background wasn't clarified.

“Besides broadening
your investments, was there any other reason you sold your part of
the company?”

He looks out his
big-ass window. Men and their need for big things.
Compensation,
I laugh to myself.

“Compensation,” he
says. I choke a little as his answer catches me by surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“Would you like some
water?”

“Yes, please.” He
walks over to what I clearly missed, a full bar. It looks like it
should come with a bartender and a tip glass. He hands me bottled
water. I take a sip from it to clear my throat.

“I need compensation
for other things I dabble in.”

“Right, like the
gym,” I confirm.

“Yes, and other
things.”

“Okay, anything that
would interfere with the business you have with Bryant?” I say
curiously.

He stares at me, his
hands on his desk. He lifts one hand, as he looks at his nails. You
know, the way men look at their nails when they are uninterested in
what an individual is saying.

“No.”

“Good.”

“Why is that good?”
Cruz asks.

“Business colleagues,
as you and Bryant are, should communicate on other dealings that
could interfere with the business you have together. You said it
wouldn’t interfere. I replied, ‘good.’ No need to speak of it
any further.”

He drops his hands and
looks at me. I mean
really
looks at me.

“You look out for
Bryant quite a bit I see.”

“Was that a question
or a statement?”