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“Do you two know each other?” Daan asked, surprise colouring his tone.
“No,” Cassidy spat at the same time as Denyer said with a smile, “Yes.”
Dieter raised one eyebrow and flicked his gaze to his colleagues. Cassidy could practically hear him call her unhinged. She needed to explain just what kind of man they’d been speaking to and quickly. She had to strike while the iron was hot. Hard and fast. She had to give Denyer a taste of his own medicine. Cassidy explained, “Through a prior deal. He stole a listing from me.”
“I won the client fair and square,” Denyer said quietly, his eyes downcast and hands in the pockets of his dress pants. Cassidy could see the shame oozing from him like the stench of the cheap aftershave she thought he’d wear. A cold smile formed on her lips, a win in her war against him buoying her.
But then his words registered, and Cassidy narrowed her eyes, her smile turning into a sneer. “You took my research—”
“They wanted something different to what you were offering.”
Cassidy laughed, the haughty sound filled with derision. “Oh yes? What did they want?”
“Someone a little less ruthlessly efficient.” Denyer lifted his gaze and gave her a sympathetic smile, his lips pressing together and one side of his mouth twisted up, before he turned to the men watching on with interest. None of them met her gaze, and Cassidy’s gut sank, a knot forming deep inside. Denyer held out his hand, shaking each of theirs firmly. “Gentlemen, it was great seeing you again. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Ms Phillips.” Denyer nodded and walked away slowly. She watched silently as he picked up two glasses of wine and slipped out the door.
What had just happened? Cassidy stared at his retreating form, speechless. His words had struck her with the force of a nuclear bomb, slamming into her and leaving only charred ashes in their wake. She blinked. Sucked in a stuttered breath. Blinked again. “Ah...” She hesitated, totally lost for words. How could she rescue the conversation? He’d done it again—completely derailed any chance of success that she had, leaving her to stitch back the tattered remnants he left in his wake. The man was a menace. With the ethics of a jackal, he’d waltz in, destroy everything in his path and then pick at the scraps until he’d had his fill, leaving everyone wanting. “I apologize about Mr Denyer. He’s somewhat unsavoury.”
“If you’ll excuse us, we need to get ready for our presentation,” Marcello replied. Cassidy forced her lips into some semblance of a smile. She guessed it looked more like a grimace with the heat crawling up her throat to her face until it flamed, and shook each of their hands.
“I hope that we get a moment to speak later in the evening.” What else could she say? Dickhead Denyer had struck again, blowing any chance she had. Now her only hope to avoid losing the account altogether was to do what her boss had instructed, leaving the presentation to him. What an arsehole Denyer was. Of all the places he had to be, and of all the times he had to be there, he’d chosen that one. At least the executives knew what he was like. They knew the truth. Not that they seemed to appreciate the inside knowledge.
“It’s not a bad trait, you know. Being ruthlessly efficient.” Marcello’s words jolted her out of her spiralling thoughts, and Cassidy nodded mutely. He tilted his head to the small stage set up in the corner and led the men over to it. A projector screen was mounted to the side, the Accord Hub logo dancing across the screen.
The evening passed in a blur, none of the presentation sinking in. Denyer’s words played on the loop inside her head. There was no doubting it—she was ruthless. She was efficient, but she wasn’t a bitch. She had personality. Drive. That was good. It was a trait she admired. She was popular too, wasn’t she? She had friends. Some, at least. Cassidy reached for a glass on a passing tray and downed half of the rich red in a single gulp, but it could have been vinegar for all she tasted. Or was that just the bad taste that Denyer left in her mouth?
The hum of conversation rose as the drinks flowed, and the evening slipped into a more relaxed vibe after the executives stepped off the stage. Ties were loosened and jackets slung over arms. Laughter became louder and the flirting more brazen. Even though Cassidy was right there in the middle of it, it was as if she were in a glass box, separating her from the people around her. Sound distorted as her mind turned over Denyer’s words. She had goals, damn it, and a career path that would lead her to the top. She wanted to be the best of the best and was going to get there in the shortest possible timeframe. If it meant people thought she was a shark, so be it. The apex predator of the ocean had a nice ring to it.
But that glass box she was stuck in was suffocating. Cassidy needed air. She needed to escape. She looked longingly at the three executives who’d been surrounded by people since they spoke on stage. Cassidy knew when to admit defeat. They would have to be tomorrow’s problem.
The quiet of the courtyard outside beckoned, and Cassidy wound through the mass of suits gathered in the intimate space before pushing through the doors. The chill of the evening hit her first, a surprise after such a mild spring day. She couldn’t decide whether to stick around and just take a breather or head home early. Her feet ached in her stilettos, and she was starving, not having eaten anything since breakfast. Trackie bottoms, a greasy pizza, and her TV keeping her company while she caught up on her work sounded perfect.
Cassidy scanned the shadow-filled space, noticing for the first time two men wrapped in each other, their lips locked as they kissed in the shadows. The click of her heels on the slate pathway as she wandered along it must have alerted them to her approach. They turned to her in unison with lips swollen and pink and kiss-drunk eyes. She recognized Mal, a business banker she’d worked with on a deal a few months earlier, and she forced a smile she didn’t feel as she made the snap decision to head for home.
Straight ahead, standing in the shadows, was another man. Denyer. Leaning against the sandstone wall, ankles crossed as he twirled the stem of his empty wine glass between his fingers, he looked lost in thought. His bun was loose, locks of hair having fallen and now framing his face. He stared at the ground, and Cassidy watched him silently. His chest rose on a long inhale, and she heard the soft rumble of a groan as he rested his head back. His eyes slipped closed, and he shook his head, the subtlest of movements.
Damn, he was beautiful. How could a man with such an ugly personality, the worst possible traits in business, be so incredibly sexy? She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to slap him or get lost in those vivid blue eyes, but Cassidy found herself closing the distance between them. She shook off the unreasonable desire coursing through her—he was not a man to get involved with—in favour of embracing her justified anger. She needed to finish the discussion they’d started earlier. Put him in his place once and for all. If he was out to thwart every move she made to level up her career, he was in for a painful trip. Like the couple she’d just passed, the click of her heels drew his attention, but he looked away quickly. Good, he should be intimidated. She wanted to shake him, grasp his pale pink shirt, and make him understand just how pissed she was.
Her hands trembled with pent-up rage, and her voice cracked as she spat, “Look, I don’t care what you think of me, but it was completely unprofessional—”
Denyer peeled open one eye and huffed, shaking his head. “What was completely unprofessional was you accusing me of theft—”
Cassidy threw her hands up in the air, taking a step closer to Denyer. Her voice was a harsh whisper, the words grating between her clenched teeth, “They were about to sign on the dotted line. That listing was important to me. You. Stole. It.” She punctuated each of her words with a poke to his chest, her pale pink nail polish almost an exact match to the hue of his shirt.
Denyer grasped her hand, his warm palms and long fingers curling around hers, stopping her from continuing her assault. Cassidy froze, and heat pooled in her belly. He bought her knuckles to his lips and pressed a kiss to them, the scrape of his five o’clock shadow above his top lip only adding to the sensory overload. “Let me make it up to you,” he rumbled. “Let me take you to dinner.”
Shock electrified her. Or was it the instant flash in her mind’s eye of naked bodies writhing together that she experienced when those sinfully sensual lips touched her bare skin? Confusion reigned supreme. An equal desire to ride him like a bucking stallion and simultaneously maim him fought for dominance. Cassie snatched her hand back, balling it back into a fist, needing to put some space between them, stat. “You can’t be serious. Are you serious? There’s no chance in hell.”
“I am, and you should say yes. I dare you to.” This time his smile, that seductive tilt of his pouty lips and secretive heavy-lidded bedroom-eyes stare, held more of a challenge, and Cassidy couldn’t help but narrow her eyes. He was dreaming.
“Yeah, no.”
“It’ll give you a chance to apologize to me.” He quirked an eyebrow, gave her that same lopsided grin, cheeky and teasing, and slipped out from against the wall, placing the wine glass down. He took a few steps before he tossed over his shoulder, “Come on, I know a good place.”
“I have nothing to apologize for,” Cassidy called, chasing after him. She had to make him understand that he was in the wrong here, not her. Why didn’t he get that?
He slowed down, waiting until she caught up, and smirked. She wanted to wipe it clean off his face. “Yet you’re still coming.”
