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Stand. Down. Now!
He pulled back—drinking in the sight of her lips, flushed and swollen, and her hair, mussed and vibrant. It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in years. But before he could crow about proving his point...
“I have to go.” August fled so quickly, he was left wondering whether he imagined the entire exchange.
From behind him, Molly made a noise of disgust.
“You might be right, girl,” he said. “I am utterly despicable.”
11
Fifteen minutes later, Keaton reached for a small savory pastry on the plate August had put together for him. When she’d come back from the food hall, she’d barely been able to look him in the eye. Not that he could blame her for that. But, true to her word—even with him being a dick—she’d brought him some lunch including all the things he liked and none of the stuff he didn’t.
The woman was a shoo-in for sainthood.
For a moment, it made a memory flash in his mind, of Ellery bringing lunch into his office when he was working on a hard deal. They’d always done that for each other—when one person was in the trenches, the other picked up the slack and made sure they were watered and fed.
It was the ultimate show of care, to him.
In truth, August bringing him lunch had unsettled him even more than the kiss. Because a steamy kiss was great, but it was more a battle of wills. Her looking after him was something else entirely.
“Keaton?” Thomas’s clipped voice snapped him back to attention. “Have you frozen again? Do they have squirrels powering the internet out there?”
“I’m still here.” He popped the bite-sized pastry into his mouth and chewed.
“What did you find out about the Waterline Press debt situation?”
“They owe fifty grand to a freight company.” His research assistant had done some digging and found out that they were severely in arrears. Fifty grand might not sound like a lot to his boss or his colleagues, but for a small company that was a make-or-break amount. “We could offer to alleviate that debt if they play ball.”
“Contact the freight company and encourage them to engage debt collectors,” Thomas replied, as though Keaton hadn’t suggested an action to the contrary.
“I don’t understand why we can’t agree to pay off the debt if the CEO lowers the selling price. Seems like a win-win to me,” he said stubbornly. They could absolutely get this merger over the line without casualties, he was sure of it. “They avoid having their company name dragged through mud for not paying their accounts, and we help our client get the price they want for a company that will benefit their business.”
“No.”
Thomas believed that compromise was weakness. Why give up anything, when you can totally annihilate your opponent in the process of winning?
Keaton scrubbed a hand over his face. The stubble on his jaw felt oddly rough against his fingertips. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t started the day with a clean shave.
“How do you think a named partner would handle this?” Thomas asked. The internet service was shitty being so far out of the city, and the image kept stalling and turning pixelated before clearing again.
His boss was sitting in his office, silver hair neatly styled and a sharp red tie standing out against the otherwise stark black and white of his suit and shirt. He looked ready for battle, like always.
But Keaton had seen another side to the man—the one who’d coaxed the whiskey bottle from his fingertips, who’d sat with him while he cried, who sent someone to patch the wall where Keaton’s fist had slammed through plaster and paint. He’d recounted the pain of his own loss, shared the things that had helped him make it through those hard, early days alone. That man had shown compassion, kindness. He’d been the fatherly support that Keaton had never had. The rock to lean on when it felt like the world was slipping out from under his feet.
It was Thomas who’d gotten him through his darkest moment. Some days, Keaton was damn sure he owed Thomas his life.
“I think a named partner always looks for the most advantageous solution to a problem,” he said.
“And you think spending fifty thousand dollars to fix someone else’s mistakes is advantageous?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.
“I think a quick sale is advantageous. Time is money, is it not? I know you’d rather have the deal show up on this quarter’s report.”
“I need to know you’re not getting soft,” Thomas said, his tone ice hard.
Soft.It was a word that got bandied around like a hot potato on Wall Street—the ultimate insult. The corporate equivalent of flapping your arms and calling someone a chicken just to see how they’d react.
“Do you think I’m soft?” he asked, keeping his face neutral. He couldn’t let the older man know how it stung when he said things like that—where he implied that Keaton was disappointing him. Because Keaton didn’t care to impress others, generally. He didn’t worry about what people thought of him or try winning them over.
