“That leaves two options: pony up the money yourself, which you’ve expressed isn’t happening, or take a corporate loan. It’s either that or finally get serious about playing for keeps. It’s an optics game, Dom, and you’re nigh on losing,” Dante states, ever the realist. He adjusts the cuffs of his shirt, his expression cool and calculating as he looks across the desk at me.
“Yeah, like marrying someone. Nothing says I’m a stable, boring, dependable billionaire business man like a diamond ring and a marriage license,” Rafe says with a smirk. The wordsmarrying,marriage, andmarryhang in the air like a leadweight, dropping heavily to the pit of my stomach. The guys staying quiet doesn’t help matters, either. They’re studying me, gauging if I’d laugh it off or throw my glass at the wall.
To the board, marriage is the ultimate contract. It’s stability, longevity, and a public declaration that a man is putting aside his need for toys and adventure. A traditional move that would muzzle the board at Sterling Capital once and for all, a perfect chess move, one that will end in checkmate. Christ, this is a lot. I stand up from my seat, grab the cut glass crystal filled with rum, and move to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the sprawling city. My reflection stares back at me, familiar—sharp jawline, perfectly tailored suit that screams wealth, and eyes that usually hold a glint of mischief. Except, that’s not what I see right now. Dead serious is the only way to catalogue them.
I don’t want a fake arrangement with some socialite who only cares about the name that comes with the man or the size of my penthouse. If I’m going to play this game, I want someone real. And as I stare out at the city, a very specific beautiful face flashes through my mind.
“You know,” I murmur, my voice low as I watch the traffic crawl along the streets below, “there is one woman I’ve had my eye on.”
“Just promise me you won’t screw things up with Alex.” Vik snorts, a sharp sound that shatters the quietness in the room. “She’s the first assistant I’ve actually been able to stand having in my office for more than a month without firing her or making her cry. She keeps my entire chaotic-as-fuck life running.” I turn around, and he continues after a brief pause, “And besides, we all know it’s not Alex you want, it’s her friend you were making googly eyes across the bar a couple of weeks ago. Don’t think for a second the three of us didn’t notice that little performance.”
I don’t deny the allegation, just lean my shoulder against the window, taking a slow, deliberate sip of my rum on the rocks.Vik’s right, as are the rest of them. Alex is indispensable, a brilliant force of nature who takes no shit when it comes to Vik. It’s her friend, who walked into the nightclub wearing a dress that should have been illegal, looking entirely unimpressed with the high-rollers and billionaires buying up the VIP section.
“This is going to be good.” Dante settles back in his chair, waiting for a response from me.
“I have no intention of screwing anything up, Vik,” I reply, the wheels already turning my head as I formulate a plan to not only solve my board member problem but to also go after the woman who’s kept my dick in a constant state of hard. “In fact, I think I’m about get very, very serious.” She completely ruined me in the span of a single evening with her effortless beauty that made my flashy cars and high-end watch collection feel entirely trivial. She’s exactly what I need to upend the board’s expectations. And more importantly, she’s exactly who I want.
“That settles it. I’m out of here.” Rafe stands up, announcing he’s done with the conversation and being at the office without his woman.
“Later,” I respond, walking back to my desk.
“Let me know if you need anything.” Vik raps his knuckles on my desk, setting his drink down, ready to leave.
“I’m not leaving for a while. You know where to find me.” Dante takes his glass with him, which means he’ll be back in less than an hour.
“Sounds good.” We all say our goodbyes, and my friends and colleagues head out the door as I take a seat behind my desk. I’ve got a plan to formulate and a woman to make mine.
CHAPTER TWO
corinne
The things I do for my friends, I swear. I’m currently carrying two brown paper bags from the deli around the corner, a favorite of ours. The savory scent of tomato soup and toasted sourdough bread is making my stomach growl. In my other hand I have the weight of the cardboard drink carrier, balancing two oversized iced coffees along with bottles of water.
I feel absurdly out of place as I cross the threshold of Sterling Capital. The lobby is bustling with activity, people in business suits with phones pressed to their ears or chatting with the person they’re walking with, and then there’s me. I’m dressed for the grueling twelve-hour shift awaiting me at the hospital after lunch. My ceil-blue scrubs are comfortable, what they don’t scream iscorporate workwear. The sneakers on my feet are clean, but no, they aren’t heels. And my hair is up in a messy bun, unlike the chic chignons others have walking around me. If it weren’t for Alex calling me, somehow persuading me to have lunch before I clock in for the day, I wouldn’t be here.
I’m at the security desk within seconds of entering the building, taking a deep breath and inhaling the mixture of perfumes, coffee, and expensive leather.
“Hi,” I start to say to the officer at the desk.
“Corinne?” The voice is low, a rich baritone that vibrates through the soles of my sneakers and sends an immediate shiver straight through my core. I freeze then slowly turn, the paper bag crinkling in my grip. My breath catches in my throat.It’s him.
The one and only Dom Mercer.
The one I couldn’t stop thinking about for weeks now.
The one who watched me from across a crowded room with an intensity that made my skin burn.
“You’re Alex’s friend, right?” His lips curve into a slow, devastating smirk that tells me he knows exactly the effect he has on me. Up close and personal, hot doesn’t begin to cover him. The word feels juvenile for the sheer magnitude of his presence. The man standing in front of me is tall, easily six foot three, has a sharp, sculpted jawline and eyes that suck you in with their sheer depth. Dom’s wearing another custom tailored, three-piece charcoal suit that hugs his broad shoulders and lean torso. He looks every bit the powerful billionaire he is.
“Yeah, I am,” I confirm a little breathlessly. Talk about mortifying. This is not who I am. I’m not some simpering, word-fumbling, sounds-like-a-porn-star woman. I clear my throat and show him my hands are full or I’d shake his, even when all I want is to feel what it’d be like to have his arms wrapped around me, but that’s for another time. As in late night, in the comfort of my own home, in my own bed, and with my own fantasies.
“I’m Dominic. Dom.” He steps closer. “And you’re the elusive Corinne.” His scent washes over me, overriding the aroma of my lunch, an intoxicating mix of dark spices, cedar, and all masculine warmth, a lot like a physical touch, heavy and heady in the best possible way.
“Cory. Nobody calls me that unless they’re trying to get their point across.” My heart hammers against my ribs.
“Cory.” My name rolls off his tongue, and now I want to hear him say it in a more intimate setting. “You look like you could use some help,” Dom notes, his eyes dropping to the bag of food and drink carrier, then slowly and deliberately traveling down the length of my body. His gaze lingers on the V-neck of my top, tracking the curve of my collarbones before sweeping down my legs. There’s no subtlety in his look. It’s all predatory, thick with an undeniable, simmering hunger that makes my core ache and my thighs clench.
“I’m good, well, except maybe being able to check in. I kind of need to do that.” I turn back toward the security officer.
