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“Oh yeah, it was.” Cole resisted a snort. “Still feeling sorry for Marisa?”
The woman had more up her sleeve than a cardsharp.
Jordan shrugged. “She may know nothing about who’s getting the construction contract.”
“We’ll see. Either way, I’m about to find out.”
* * *
Life was full of firsts—some of them more welcome than others. Cole had been her earliest lover, and now he was giving her another first. Marisa stepped inside Serenghetti Construction’s offices, which she’d never done before.
The company occupied the uppermost floors of a redbrick building that had once been a factory, square in the middle of Welsdale’s downtown. The website stated that Serg Serenghetti had renovated the building twenty years ago and turned it into a modern office complex. For years she’d felt as if she would never be welcome inside, but now she’d gotten a personal invite from Cole Serenghetti himself. It showed how life could turn on a dime.
Of course the actual call had come from Cole’s assistant. But Marisa had taken it as a sign that Cole might be softening his stance. She was willing to hold on to any thread of hope, no matter how thin. Because as much as she’d bluffed, she had no Plan B. She hadn’t tried to contact Jordan Serenghetti because it would be preferable for Pershing to have someone who’d graduated from the school as a headliner. Besides, she was sure Cole would block any attempt to recruit his brother.
In the lobby, Marisa tried not to be intimidated by the sleek glass-and-chrome design—a testament to money and power. And when she reached the top floor, she took a deep breath as she entered Serenghetti’s spacious and airy offices. The decor was muted beiges and grays—cool and professional. The receptionist announced her, took her coat and then directed her down the hall to a corner office.
Her
heart beat in a staccato rhythm as she reached an open doorway. And then her gaze connected with Cole’s. He was standing beside an imposing L-shaped desk.
The air hummed between them, and Marisa steadied herself as she walked forward into his office. She’d dressed professionally in a beige pantsuit, but she was suddenly very aware of her femininity. That was because Cole exuded power in a navy suit and patterned tie. This was a different incarnation than his hockey uniform, or his hardhat and jeans, but no less potent.
“You look wary,” Cole said. “Afraid you’re in for a third strike?”
“You don’t play baseball.”
“Lucky you.”
“You wouldn’t have summoned me if you’d meant to turn me down again.”
“Or maybe I’m a sadistic bastard who enjoys making you pay for past transgressions again and again.”
Marisa compressed her lips to keep from giving her opinion. His office was devoid of personal items like family photos and as inscrutable as the man himself. She wondered if this room had been Serg’s office until recently, or whether Cole had just avoided settling in by bringing mementos.
Cole smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “So here’s the deal, sweet pea. Serenghetti Construction builds the new gym at Pershing, no questions asked. I don’t want to hear any garbage about handing off the job to a friend of a board member.”
“What?”
“Yeah, surprised?” he asked as he prowled toward her. “So am I. I’ve been almost dancing with shock ever since I discovered you wanted me to be a poster boy for someone else’s construction job. And not just anyone else, but our main competitor. They’ve underbid us on the last two jobs. But that’s quality for you.”
“I’m sure the construction would be up to code. We’d have an inspection,” she said crossly.
“Being up to code is the least of your worries.”
Marisa felt as if she’d shown up in the middle of the second act of a play. There was a context that she was missing here. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What friend of a board member?”
Cole scanned her face for a moment, then two. “It would figure they didn’t let the teacher in on the discussion. Have you ever sat on a board of directors?”
She shook her head.
“The meetings might be public, but there’s plenty of wheeling and dealing behind the scenes. It’s you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. We’ll go with the headliner you want for the fund-raiser, but you’ll back my guy for the construction job.”
Marisa felt the heat of embarrassment flood her face. She’d thought she’d been so clever in her approach for Pershing Shines Bright. She hadn’t even let Mr. Dobson know she’d talked to Cole because she’d thought her chances of success were uncertain at best. She’d wanted the option of persuading Mr. Dobson to go with someone else without the appearance that she’d failed.
Now she felt like a nitwit—one who didn’t know what the other hand was doing. Or at least, didn’t know what the school board was up to. She wanted to slump into a chair, but it would give Cole an even bigger advantage than he had.
“That kind of horse-trading is corrupt,” she managed.
