Wasted Vows Page 7

  “That’s enough!” I stood up, and my chair toppled to the carpet.

  My ears rang in the resultant quiet. The men shuffled their papers. Lucas put the money clip away. He was the youngest of the men in the room, and he usually kept to himself, but when the jokes rolled out, he joined in.

  It disappointed me. I’d expected more from the kid. My mentee. He’d never get anywhere if he fell to the depths of the women as sex objects mentality.

  “I don’t care what you do in your spare time, but this is an office, not a frat party. Keep the dirty shit to yourselves or get the hell out,” I said. “We came here to do a damn job and plan an event that could land this company the biggest account in its history. Now, shut up, put your dicks back in your pants, and focus.”

  Timothy yawned but didn’t say anything else. None of the others broke into laughter either. I felt like a pariah only being tolerated for the time being, knowing that the second I was out of earshot, they’d fire right back up again like a pack of deranged hyenas.

  “Are we good?” I asked, meeting each man in the eye. “Can we finally get to work?”

  The men didn’t answer, but they didn’t break into another bout of vulgar jokes either.

  “All right,” I said and tapped the folder in front of me. “Let’s take a look at the things we think need improvement. Any thoughts?”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure about the band,” George said. “I mean, it’s great we can get them because they always draw a good crowd, but will they really gel with the guys? I feel like that’s a hit or miss situation.”

  “I agree,” I said and scratched down a note. “I’ll contact the manager and discuss it with him. Maybe he’ll have some valuable input for us.”

  “What did she mean when she said local cuisine? I didn’t like the mention of tater tots,” another of the guys said from the far end of the table. “That’s common food. If we wanted tots, we could get them from a school cafeteria. This is supposed to be upper-class cuisine.”

  “Didn’t you hear the mention of a Michelin star chef?” Timothy asked. “Haven’t you ever heard of the show Chopped, dipshit? They make award-worthy fare with common ingredients.”

  “Which chef? That’s the damn question. We could have–”

  I wrote down notes and drifted through the concerns with the other men. I wasn’t fully in the moment though. Some of the stuff they’d said struck a chord. What if I was pussy whipped?

  Shit, that was a terrible word for it. What if I had a thing for Luna that went deeper than just the business relationship we’d stumbled into? I couldn’t afford to get distracted by those kinds of feelings.

  Luna was an enigma. I didn’t understand how she operated and why she was on permanent ‘clumsy’ mode. The thing was, she’d switched out of it to take control so fast my head had spun. I’d lost my words. I wondered if she didn’t like me and that caused her bizarre behavior. A dull knife pierced my heart. For some reason, I couldn’t stomach the thought of her out there, working on my job and hating my guts, wishing she were working for anyone else but me.

  I wanted her. Like no other woman I’d ever met. And I hardly knew her. The sight of her up there, talking, power dripping from each word… shit, it’d made me excited for the company and to spend more time with her.

  “And then there’s re-organizing the entire lounge,” James said.

  “What about it?”

  He blew out a frustrated breath. “You realize that if we reorganize it at the start, we’ll have to move it all back again afterward. That takes a lot of work and the moving is extra money.”

  He had a point. I took down the note, then gestured with my pen. “We can’t cut costs at every corner. We want this to be extravagant.”

  “There’s extravagance, and then there’s waste,” James said and raised both of his hands to make the shape of a scale. “We don’t want to tip over onto the wrong side from a cost-benefit analysis standpoint.”

  He hadn’t made jokes about Luna. I could respect that. I could respect him and his opinion.

  “Point taken. Still, if we’re going to strike that balance, I don’t think changing the layout of the event will help us. These guys are used to seeing the locker room look the same every single time they play.” I tapped my pen on the page. “We want to leave an impression. One they’ll never forget.”

  James conceded the point.

  The rest of the meeting proceeded without mishap – or pussy whipped jokes – and the only time Luna was mentioned was to reference a particular section of her presentation. We finished up, and I read the notes out to the men, including the resulting to-dos, to make sure we’d discussed everything of concern.

  I checked my watch. It was noon, and I was due to have lunch with Ross in about fifteen. “And that’s it. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

  I whipped out my cell and shot off a text to Jeffrey to tell Lou to bring the car round the front of the IDS Center, then strolled over to the laptop. Without a doubt, Ross would have worthy input on the whole Luna thing. He’d have my back and tell me just how to handle it.

  I couldn’t tell him how I felt about her – God, what did I feel? If I said anything even remotely romantic about her, that news would sail straight from my mouth into Larissa’s ears. And if the women were friends, I could just as well drive over to Luna’s house and tell her I had an inappropriate crush on her. Kind of like what she’d already written in her journal. At least we’d be even. But then again, I kind of liked having the upper hand.

  My heart thumped. Sure, that would go down well.

  Hi, Luna, I read your journal last night and thought you did really well in the presentation today. I can’t get you off my mind. Wanna go on a date?

  Highly inappropriate. Fuck, why was my brain even entertaining these thoughts?

  I clapped the lid of the laptop shut, then unplugged it. The overhead projector clicked off. Timothy stood beside the switch on the wall, his gaze on me. That annoying rich kid smirk hadn’t dropped off his face.

  I wasn’t a violent guy, but I’d have given a nut to take a swipe at that little pervert.

  “Hey, pussy whipped,” he said in a low tone.

  Most of the other guys had already trailed out of the boardroom.

  I felt the muscle pop in my jaw. “What did you say to me?”

  “You heard me,” Tim said and took a step closer. “I think it’s cute you’ve got this little romance going on with the event planner, but you’d better watch your back. I don’t care to be disrespected in front of the other guys. My dad wouldn’t like it.”

  “Really?” I asked and lifted the laptop from the lectern. I pictured knocking him over the top of the head with it. My own version of whack-a-mole. Every time his head popped back up, I’d pummel it with all my might until his head never bobbed again.

  “Yes. News of your inappropriate liaison could get back to my father. Mr. Brooks would be highly interested to know you’re fucking a contract employee. It might call into question why you hired her in the first place.”

  “We’re not involved,” I replied and mentally winced at that response. It’d sounded defensive, giving Timothy the upper hand. “In fact, I just met her.”

  “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that,” he said. “Listen, I enjoyed your pep talk earlier.” He strolled toward the door but stopped right beside me, shoulder lined up with mine. “If you speak to me like that again, I’ll be sure to let Mr. Brooks know about your interest in Miss Faye.”

  I seethed on the inside. Outside, I maintained the same professional façade I’d perfected on my climb up the ladder. Fuck this guy. He wasn’t directly involved in the event or securing the account. He could go running to daddy all day and all night, and he’d never be able to prove anything. Because I was innocent of any of his off-color accusations.

  “Have a good day, Corban,” he said. He walked off, trailing the Armani cologne he wore.

  I waited until he’d left before I exited the boardroom.


  Chapter 7: Luna

  Light filtered through the massive front windows that looked out on the street and shone across the tables laden with food. The scents in here drove me wild in the best way possible, and after the grueling ordeal of the presentation, I deserved a little wild even if it came in the food form rather than the sexy guy form. But oh, what a sexy guy he was. I shook my head against the inappropriate fantasy of Corban Drake.

  Larissa had chosen the burger bar because she had a fetish for them. I couldn’t help but agree with her on this one.

  I grabbed the massive burger in the center of my plate and lifted it. I took a bite and savored the mixture of ground beef, barbeque sauce, tomato, and Monterey Jack cheese. This place had the softest buns in existence. With butter.

  “Oh my god,” I groaned around a mouthful of paradise. “This has to be the best thing I’ve ever eaten. What have you done to me? So many carbs.”

  “And fat, Luna. Embrace the fat,” Larissa replied and dragged a fry through ketchup. She lifted it and wiggled it at me. “Embrace the flavor. You deserve it.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you should be in advertising?” I asked and took another bite. I’d live in this place given half a chance.

  “My talents would be wasted on advertising,” Larissa said and deposited the fry into her mouth. She chewed as her brow furrowed in concentration, that oh so Larissa frown wrinkling her skin. “So, I’ve got news. I didn’t want to ruin your burger though.”

  “Oh god, what is it?” I asked and put it down, my stomach squirming with sudden nerves.

  “You’ve got a blob of sauce on the corner of your mouth,” she said and pointed with another fry.

  I grabbed a napkin and dabbed the offending splotch. “That’s your big news? I hate to break it to you, Lar, but I’ve always been a messy eater. This is not new information.”

  “Shush, shush, shush. You’re making my voices act up again.” After putting her finger to her lips, Larissa massaged her temples. “I’m talking about your journal, girl.”

  My stomach dropped into the tips of my toes. “Okay, now I understand what you meant by ruining my lunch.”

  “Sorry, not sorry.” Larissa gobbled down another two fries and didn’t say a word.

  “Uh? Hello? Are you going to tell me this news or just leave me hanging?” Complications with the ever-gorgeous, and therefore ever-dangerous, Mr. Drake couldn’t be tolerated. I needed this job more than I needed to feel his hands on my body. Gosh, where had that thought come from?

  “He’s got your journal,” Larissa said.

  My stomach wobbled in my toes. “Uh? I figured he found it but can you better define that? What do you mean by he’s got it? Like he’s got it at his office?”

  “I’m not sure where, but yeah, he mentioned to Ross that he found it,” Larissa said.

  “Has he read it?” Surely, I would’ve lost the event if he’d read it. No way would any man in his right mind keep me on board after reading my highly inappropriate internal thoughts. Even though I couldn’t remember my exact words, I did remember that I’d referred to the timbre of his voice. The first time it had floated over me, I’d wondered about the man on the other end of the phone.

  “I have no idea. But I do know that getting it back would probably be a good idea,” Larissa said. “I understand and adore your special brand of crazy. I doubt many other people would and Corban–”

  “Ugh, I know. What a total screw up,” I said and smooshed the napkin into non-existence. Pounding and tearing the fragile white paper felt good. “I’ve got to get it back, somehow. Not that there’s anything illicit in there.”

  The waiter arrived at the table and the conversation cut off. “Can I get you ladies anything else? A refill perhaps?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I said and shoved my glass toward him. He snatched it up and rushed off again. I never understood why servers did that. Why interrupt when they could clearly see you were in the middle of a conversation?

  One that happened to be more important than any other. I didn’t dare complain though. If the waiter recognized me, he’d probably spit in my drink. I knocked on wood and met my best friend’s gaze. “He read it, didn’t he?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know. I seriously doubt it though. Corban’s a great guy. He’s not the kind who’d go through someone else’s journal.” Larissa leveled a look at me. “And yeah, you do need to get it back.”

  I propped my chin up on my fist, the weight of my head too heavy for me to hold up any longer. “Right, so how would I do that?”

  “Uh, ask him for it?”

  I blinked. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then I’d have to talk to him about something personal and that’s not happening.” Additionally, if I asked about it, and he pulled any weird faces, I’d know that he’d read it and then I’d sink through a hole in the floor and into the burning pits of hell.

  The special ring that was reserved for social faux pas and a serious lack of etiquette. I wouldn’t handle rejection well in this instance.

  Larissa picked up her burger and took a bite. “You like him, don’t you? Not that I’d blame you. He is hot enough to make Satan sigh. If it weren’t for my epic love for Ross, I’d go for him.”

  I watched her chew, mind churning about how to deflect. Corban Drake still had my journal. He’d been impressed with my presentation, and that was great, but there was the off chance he’d read the journal and realize that I was a total loon, fawning over the voice of someone I’d had one call with. But the longer Corban had my journal, the higher the risk became that he’d get curious and go through it.

  I came dangerously close to biting my fingernails. “And I’m not into him, even though he is hot. We have a strictly business relationship. But my journal…I’ve got to get it back today.”

  “Whoa.” Larissa put down her burger. “Today?”

  “Yeah, and you’ve got to help me plan how I’m going to do it. You’re the one who’s good at subterfuge. All that addiction to Forensic Files and stuff.”

  “Are you kidding?” Larissa asked. “I can’t hide the remote from Ross during Real Housewives. You really think I’ll be able to–”

  “Lar!”

  She exhaled for so long I worried about her lungs. “Fine, fine, I’ll help.”

  I straightened in my chair and focused on her – laser precision, locked in my sights. “So,” I said. “What do I do?”

  “I said I’d help, not plan a heist for you. You tell me what you’re going to do. I’ll tell you if it’s feasible.”

  I pushed my plate to one side. “Okay, so he’s going to be at his office today. He has to be because the meeting is done and the Twins obviously aren’t his only potential account.”

  “Yeah, I heard he’s helping out with branding for one of the local boutiques. Some fashion store or whatever,” Lar replied. “He’s having trouble with it. Another thing you could help with if this current project goes well.”

  My heart tripped at the prospect. That would be right up my alley. “Did he mention anything else?”

  “Nothing super in detail. Just that he’s spent the last couple weeks working late on it and he needs the Twins event to go down super smooth. I think he’s really stressed.”

  I buried the pang of concern for the man I barely knew. The man who might not express that same concern for me if he read my innermost thoughts. Apart from concern for my shoddy degree of professionalism.

  “Okay, so he should be at the office after lunch. Oh wait, do you know how long his lunches are?”

  “Hmm.” Larissa ate another ketchup-doused fry. “He came to eat with us at our house the other day, and he was there for, oh say, an hour and fifteen? He’s a big shot. I don’t think he has to worry about punching a clock.”

  I checked my watch. “Okay, so I’ve got forty-five minutes to plan my heist, as you put it.”

  “Right.”

  “I need to get into
his office without him there and search for the journal, then hightail it outta the building before he spots me.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my napkin. “Oh shoot, maybe I should go now while he’s at lunch.”

  Larissa chewed her bottom lip in thought. “He’s eating lunch with Ross today, and I guarantee you he’s locked his office. Lunchtime espionage is a no-go. Unless you want to do this tomorrow. No, wait, he spends most lunch times at his desk. That wouldn’t work either.”

  “Yeah, and I want to do this today. Get it over and done with. Then I can focus on the event and stop worrying that he’ll fire me for wondering whether he was a Baldwin.”

  “You what?” Larissa burst out laughing and bits of fry dropped from her lips to the plate.

  “Ew, say it, don’t spray it.”

  “You wrote that down? That you thought he might be one of the Baldwin brothers?”

  I rolled my eyes, my face flaming in shame. I could feel the heat crawl from my neck up to the top of my head. It was embarrassing to admit even to my bestie. “I’d had a glass of wine, okay? Maybe two. He sounded super dreamy. I might’ve exaggerated my affections for his voice a little too.”

  “You are special,” Larissa said and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

  “Not since yesterday,” I whined. “Okay, so I’ll need a distraction. Something that will drive him out of the office, so I get my golden window of opportunity.”

  “Why don’t you call him a Baldwin and flash your tits? That might work.”

  I whacked the back of my friend’s arm. “Focus. I’m serious about this.”

  “I can see that.” Larissa rubbed the sore spot. “Look, hon, I’m not going to argue down on this one, but I just don’t see this journal deal as that big of a tragedy. So what if he reads it? He’s a good guy. He won’t judge you even if he did. Most likely, he’d be flattered like all the other overworked and undersexed executives in Minneapolis. Corban doesn’t get out much. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen him with a woman.”