After slipping his glasses back on, his expression softened. “Mitus came to me for help and I sold him on you. I touted your accomplishments. Bragged about your tenacity, intelligence and professionalism, yet you barely acknowledged his presence. This is a great opportunity.”
“It’s a strategic move on your part, designed to put a feather in your cap. I can leave and take the lion’s share of my clients with me.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me, though.” Leaning back, he clasped his hands behind his head. “You’re loyal, like I am.”
Seth had this over her and he knew it. His allegiance had been unwavering. He’d given her a chance when she’d needed to start her life over, asked few questions, and had restored her belief that not every man on the planet was a cold-hearted asshole. She owed him.
She ran her fingers along her silver bracelet with the gold lobster claw clasp. “As a favor to you, I’ll contact him next week.”
He jotted a number on a sticky and handed it to her. “I think you’re understandably rattled from Internado’s inexcusable behavior. Trust me on this one. I know what I’m doing.” A fatherly smile touched his eyes.
“I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but when I mentioned feeling restless, being at Mitus’s beck and call was not what I had in mind.”
“I have complete confidence you’ll make this work. By the way, he asked for references and is moving forward, full steam ahead.”
Not without a fight.
Seth stood. Meeting over. She left his office for the third time in one day, this time with her gut in knots. Glancing at her fingertips, she clenched her jaw at the tacky paper with the oh-so-familiar number. She couldn’t disclose her secret, not even to Seth. But she’d never work for Mitus. In a whoosh of unwelcomed memories, her unreturned calls to Mitus Conglomerate came racing back.
“Mr. Mitus, please. This is Eve Francesco again.”
“I’ve given Mr. Mitus all of your messages, Ms. Francesco. He’s not interested,” said the woman on the phone.
“I know my family’s business better than anyone.” Eve rubbed her forehead, trying to keep from screaming like a madwoman into the receiver. “I’m confident my ten-year growth plan will benefit him.”
“Mr. Mitus isn’t interested. Goodbye.”
Brigit ripped the sticky off her fingers and smacked it on her desk. For the last six years, she’d shoved her pent-up emotions into an imaginary cellblock, but today the prison door had been blown wide open and they’d escaped.
What a day. First, George Internado. He’d been one of her best clients, until he ruined it. Did he actually think she’d spend the afternoon screwing him? Tasting bitter bile, she crumpled into her chair, then rummaged through her desk for aspirin to silence her throbbing head.
But Internado wasn’t enough. Oh, no! Then Colton Mitus had to waltz in. She flung two aspirins into her mouth and swallowed them down. The most devastatingly handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. And what did he want? Her, to fix his ailing portfolio.
She knew, all too well, that things happened in threes. Goose bumps crawled across her skin and she glanced outside, her thoughts traveling to dark places.I’m safe. He’s behind bars.
Brigit packed up, said goodbye to Kat, and hoofed it to the gym, a block from her office on 19thStreet, NW. She shivered from a chill that had nothing to do with the brisk October evening and tugged her coat around her neck. After scooting inside, she flashed her ID and headed for the locker room.
As beads of sweat rolled down her back, she groaned against the weight of the leg press. She finished the reps and wiped the vinyl seat, but couldn’t wipe her scowl. Meeting Colton Mitus had fueled her grit. It had also done something completely unexpected and totally infuriating.
Jolted her libido from a long and lonely slumber.
4
THE POP-IN
The countdown to Fridayhappy hour started after lunch. With the end of the workweek in sight, Brigit could almost taste nirvana. Colton’s number, still stuck to her desk, glared at her. She sneered at it. She’d agreed to call him next week and not one day sooner.
Brigit redirected her attention to the power couple sitting across her desk. “So, Frederick, when will our conversations include your retirement plans? You’re working more now than you did a decade ago.”
Sixty-three-year-old Frederick Mundy, a lobbyist during the Reagan era, had turned into a successful business owner and multimillionaire. His wife, Alyssa, a former marketing exec, now focused her time on philanthropic ventures.
“Fear drives me,” Frederick replied. “Greatest motivator in the world.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Hisgreatest motivator.”
“I thought love was the greatest motivator,” Brigit said.
“If that’s the case, love will guide your life. Doesn’t matter how many millions I have, it’s never enough.” Frederick pushed out of the chair. “And on that note, it’s time for me to make some more.”
