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“So who says we have to waste it? Why don’t you just have the thing at your place?”
“Not big enough.”
“Says the man living in the two-million-dollar condo.” Minka shook her head. “How about your place at Sea Cliff?”
“Don’t like it.”
Minka gasped. “Says the man living in the four-million-dollar house!”
“All right, then.” Qasim smiled indulgently. “I admit I just don’t want the aggravation of it. There’s a certain convenience in not using your own place as the venue. Besides, neither of those places is right for accommodating that many people for a long weekend, hence the reason I always use hotels for this.”
Qasim’s midyear charity event was a highly anticipated gathering that benefited the summer camps he held each year for deserving high school football players. Thanks to the funds raised by Qasim’s Wilder Warriors Foundation, deserving students and senior athletes were able to receive all-expenses-paid educations following graduation.
Qasim watched his assistant, who didn’t seem to be in full agreement with his reasoning. “Hell, Mink, are the rates that bad?”
“I believe so. Yes.” She waved toward the folder he studied. “The venues we have in mind are even more outrageous than usual.”
Although Qasim wasn’t above paying any cost to fund his events, Minka saw to it that her boss’s generous heart didn’t bankrupt him. Her policy was to see to it that all charity expenses were paid from charity money allotted for such spending instead of directly from Qasim’s personal accounts. She had successfully made that happen since the onset of Qasim’s goodwill endeavors.
“The rates aren’t deal breakers, but...”
“So go for it,” Qasim urged.
“It’s just—”
“Are the expense accounts well-funded?”
“More than. Only...” Minka trailed off, watching Qasim reach for a pen to sign the documents up for debate.
He smiled, noticing that his efficient assistant had already included a drafted document for the legal department to review regarding Will Lloyd’s decision-making authority for the foundation.
“Very nice,” he commented upon scanning the page.
Minka slipped off the sofa arm and took a bow. “Thanks and for my next feat, I’ll get things straightened out between you and Vectra.”
The easy expression Qasim was working to maintain began to waver. He clenched a fist and groaned. “I don’t think there’s any trick that good.”
“Sim—”
“I appreciate the effort, but there’s a lot you don’t know. It’s not my place to discuss it.”
“So you deny going after the woman you love and deny any other man the chance to go after her.”
Qasim shuffled through papers on his desk without really seeing them. “I don’t want to think about it.”
Minka walked over and took the folder from his desk. “She may not give you a choice.” Waving the folder, she turned on her heel. “I’ll get this finished.”
Qasim fixed his gaze on the fist he’d clenched before he slammed it onto his desk.
* * *
Vectra had never been one to take hints exceptionally well. She usually had to be hit right in the face with something before she got wise to the situation. She couldn’t help but think that was the case now. His words and demeanor were giving off the distinct impression that there was someone else.
Boy, wasn’t that the literal truth, she thought while speeding down the winding dirt road leading to Carro.
Named for Vectra’s parents Oscar and Rose Bauer, Carro was a remarkably breathtaking wine-country estate in Saint Helena, California. It was Vectra’s home and her oasis—a place for rejuvenation and meditation. A place to hide? She shook off that difficult truth and then thought, What the hell? So what if she wanted to hide? It was time to retreat a little.
She’d had her fill of humiliation. Qasim Wilder was a man who didn’t want to be friends with her. Fair enough. Fair enough. Only... Well, jeez, he had to know she wanted more than that. She should’ve told him so long ago. Now, she was happy that she hadn’t. Humiliating, indeed, once he had given her such a polite brush-off. Of course, there may not have been someone else had she not been too much of a coward to tell him that she’d wanted their friendship to take a more beneficial turn.
Vectra parked her luxury crossover a short distance from the turnoff leading to the main house. Leaving the vehicle, she walked a few feet to the wooden fencing that marked the entrance to Carro’s lush vineyards.
Unmindful of her pumps, Vectra propped a foot on one of the planks that constructed the massive fencing. Resting her elbows on the top plank, she bowed her head and made a weak attempt at working the kinks from her neck. She inhaled, at once comforted by the fragrant air kissed by the plump, sweet fruit that clustered about vibrant green vines.
