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I understood Bridget’s need for me today. She was involved in doling out money that wasn’t hers. There was no question Mav would put some kind of prenup in place when they got married, which was definitely going to happen, but this was corporate cash, not Mav’s personal income. Besides, she was giving it to small businesses for local growth, not to renovate a kitchen or a girl’s trip to the Maldives.
If my brothers weren’t available, I needed to be. But I could also have some fun… and orgasms.
“Fine.”
“Put that coffee in a to-go cup and put some pants on. The plane leaves in forty-five.”
13
EVE
Ever since Isubmitted the online form for the James Corp Hunter Valley Small Business Advancement Program, I’d been antsy and eager for the interview.
Bridge reached out and said after reviewing my application it was a done deal, especially the way Mav loved my coffee, but the papers weren’t signed. The money wasn’t in my bank account. Which meant Cheney and his threats still loomed over me.
I hadn’t heard from him since he left the shop that day. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was still in the bathroom or if he was expecting me to crawl back to him and my parents.
Either way, I didn’t care. I just wanted him out of my life for good. While he was executor, I didn’t have to deal with him if I didn’t want money from the trust. I’d get it in a few years. I could leave it untouched until then.
I walked into the building that held the James Corp Hunter Valley office jittery and nervous as if I’d had a Devil’s Brew triple espresso. I detoured to the ladies’ restroom beside the elevator and stood in front of the mirror.
“You can do this. You can do this. It’s this or Cheney,” I whispered, looking myself in the eye. I dressed fairly conservatively, considered what a banker might wear and dressed accordingly. I wasn’t wearing a Steaming Hotties pink tee to a loan meeting. “Fuck Cheney.”
With that, I spun around and made my way across the hall.
A woman at the reception desk greeted me warmly.
“You must be Evelyn,” she said.
I smiled back. “Eve.”
“I love your coffee,” she said. “I’m Jemma. They’re waiting for you. Just head in there.” She swiveled in her chair and pointed to an open conference room door.
“Thanks, Jemma.”
When I crossed the office, I overheard Bridge through the open door. “No, mashed potatoes can’t have lumps. It’s against the law.”
“Against the law?”
I stepped into the doorway, listening to the weird conversation my friend was having with someone. A man.
When I leaned in, afraid to interrupt, even though the topic definitely wasn’t about work, I saw it wasn’t just any man.
It was Silas.
Mr. Big Dick.
“Eve! Hey!” Bridget stood from the huge conference table and came around to me.
I ignored her and kept staring at Silas. In his suit. And tie.
He stared at me right back.
“It’s you,” he murmured, with complete surprise on his face. His gorgeous, bearded face. The smile that slowly spread meant he was happy to see me.
“Oh shit. What are you doing here?” I asked, then winced. Not the best first line for an interview, but THIS WAS SILAS. MR. BIG DICK. Dressed, thank God.
I tried to process why he’d be in this meeting, and it wasn’t computing. Not fast enough, at least.
