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“Calvin,” she ground out. “We don’t have time for this shit. Memorial Day is in three weeks, and I want to get the ball rolling on this as soon as possible. Traffic to the area is already picking up, and I’ve got the bottling department on standby, ready to start production on the cocktails. If we get our asses in gear, I can have this stuff rolled out to market by mid-June at the latest, just in time for Fourth of July sales. Time is of the essence here, and you’re standing in my way.”
“And I’m going to keep standing in your way,” I told her. “I’m not giving you that kind of money up front.”
Amara’s cheeks pinked beneath her olive skin, a sure fire sign that she was ready to blow her top.
“Fuck you,” she said, hastily scooping up her things and rushing toward the door. Before she flung it open, she turned back to me and said, “You’re making a huge mistake.”
And with that, she was gone.
In the wake of Amara’s outburst, her family took that as their cues to leave as well.
“You didn’t have to rile her up like that,” Lena said as she passed me.
“We know you’re not exactly on board with it, but she’s still your boss. Treat her with some respect.”
Leon’s parting words were a demand I had no intention of complying with, but I simply nodded and gave him a cheeky little salute as he and Lena left.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Chloe asked the moment her parents were out of earshot. “She put a lot of work into this. And I know you two don’t like each other, but this conference room and these offices are no place for personal feelings. You’re stuck working together unless she decides to fire your ass. And need I remind you, Cal”—Chloe rose from her chair and moved so she was in front of me, one hand leaning on the table as she got within an inch of my face—“that stock you own does not save you from getting the axe.”
“We could avoid all of this if you guys would put your feelings aside and agree to vote her out once and for all.”
“You know that’ll never happen,” Ella said.
“It might.”
“Not in a million years,” Chloe promised, then swept from the room.
The three remaining Delatou sisters followed the eldest out, each shooting me glares and offering disappointed shakes of their heads.
Alone at last, I leaned my elbows on the table and dropped my head in my hands.
As much as I hated to admit it, Chloe was right. Amara and Ididhave to work together, and whether or not she hated me for analmostthat happened five years ago, and whether or not I found her lazy and incompetent, didn’t matter here. She was my boss, and I controlled the money. We were locked in a truly unfortunate and twisted symbiotic relationship, and we needed to find a way to coexist that wouldn’t burn this place to the ground.
So I did what any sane person would do: I followed her to her office, intent on hashing this out, right here, right now.
Amara’s assistant rose from her chair as I approached.
“I’ll let her know you’re here.”
“No need,” I said, moving past her desk without breaking my stride and pushing into Amara’s office.
“You do realize that storming out of a board meeting is only fuel for me, right?” I said when I walked inside, dropping onto one of the cozy armchairs grouped on the left side of her office.
“Absolutely fucking not,” she said, rising to her feet and stalking for the door. “Cindy!” she yelled, and her assistant appeared. “Why didn’t you warn me Mr. Ryder was here?”
Mr. Ryder, huh? I hated the way my last name on her lips had my cock twitching.
“He didn’t give me a chance,” Cindy said sheepishly, and Amara whirled on me.
“You need to leave.”
I shook my head. “No can do. We have things to discuss. Now sit down and let’s talk.”
“Don’t tell me what to do in my own office.”
“Stop acting like a child, princess, andsit.”
With a world-weary sigh, she shut the door and moved to the chair across from me. Instead of sitting, she folded her arms over her chest and tapped her pointy toed heel on the floor. My eyes trailed from those shoes—shiny, black, red-bottomed—and up her body. She wore a black suede skirt that molded to her thighs, leaving nothing of her curves to the imagination. Tucked into it was some sort of gauzy blouse, white and patterned with flowers, short, flowy sleeves brushing against her upper arms. A delicate golden chain hung around her neck, clinging to the edges of her collarbones and dipping against her cleavage. When I met her gaze at last, she was less than impressed with my perusal.
