Bastard In A Suit (Book One) Page 2

  Chapter 2

  My stomach sinks so fast I’m spinning. “Mr. Kingston, please, we know the product isn’t perfect yet but…”

  Duke cocks an eyebrow. “That’s an understatement. The battery for starters--”

  “Needs a lot of work,” I say. I cup my hand over my mouth, realizing I’ve cut him off. Jake’s face has turned pale. Damn it. I’m totally fucking this up. I take a deep breath. “But that’s why I…we need you.”

  Amusement flickers in Duke’s eyes before they cloud over again. He’s enjoying this. I’m mad as hell but I keep talking. “With an experienced investor like yourself, we could fix the product’s…inadequacies.”

  Forrest clears his throat. “Sir, we believe we’re on to groundbreaking technology here.”

  “It’s too small.” Duke leans over the boardroom table, pressing his palms flat on the surface. My gaze goes straight to his arms. Jesus, they’re big. His biceps bulge under his jacket.

  “Wearables are in right now,” Forrest says.

  There’s a hint of desperation in his voice that makes me cringe. First rule of a pitch meeting? Never let them see you sweat. Ironic, maybe, since my entire body feels hot and clammy.

  “Something this small will get lost,” Duke says. “Or forgotten. It will fall off whatever it’s stuck to.”

  “Not if you help us improve the adhesive,” I argue.

  Duke’s eyes bore into me. My throat goes dry. I don’t get it, but he does something to me. Turns me inside out. Makes me want things I definitely shouldn’t want. A burning sensation creeps up the side of my neck.

  “The adhesive is only one of multiple issues,” Duke says. He walks to the wall of windows that overlook the city, hands in his pockets. I can’t take my eyes off his broad shoulders, his muscular, tapered back. My nails itch to scratch along that long, lean spine.

  Jake silently pleads with me to keep talking.

  “We agree that the product isn’t perfect,” I say. “If it was, we could have taken it to market and made a killing by now.”

  Duke pivots.

  I point to the iPad screen where the pulsing green dot continues to weave its way through the narrow corridors on the blueprints. Kyle has moved from the eleventh floor to the eighteenth—the Penthouse—and the signal is strong. “The MicroTracker is still on Kyle’s collar. It’s doing the job it’s supposed to.”

  Duke remains unimpressed. “Any one of my tech employees could have developed this device.”

  “Bullshit,” I fire back out of instinct.

  My stomach sinks with mortification. I am never this brazen.

  In my peripheral vision, I see Jake’s face redden. He’s pissed. And why shouldn’t he be? We’ve blown this meeting and it’s mostly my fault.

  “Your technicians could have built the MicroTracker,” Forrest says to Duke. “But they didn’t. We did. You could have them build it now and start from scratch—but you’d be at Ground Zero. Our product is seventy-five percent there.”

  And that is what I should have said.

  If only I’d listened and let Forrest take the lead on this. Instead I’m floundering.

  I used profanity—I swore at our potential investor. My stomach feels like it’s filled with lead.

  I should walk away. Concede the win.

  But there’s this weird tremor in my gut that tells me this isn’t over.

  “Most consumers will not want this product,” Duke says with finality.

  “The MicroTracker isn’t for most consumers,” I say.

  The room goes so silent you could hear a feather drop. Duke runs his hand over his beard and seems genuinely curious for the first time. I stay focused and pretend the movement isn’t sexy as hell, that my heartbeat isn’t pinging off the walls.

  “Kingston Industries is a company built on innovation,” I say, gaining confidence. I’m taking a risk, but I need to salvage this meeting or I can kiss my business aspirations goodbye. “

  “And it’s only by taking risks on products with the potential to have a big upside that a company grows to dominate the market the way your company has done. We are that kind of product. We may be high risk, but the rewards could also be great if we succeed.”

  A glimmer of interest glows behind Duke’s stony expression. “I’m always interested in great rewards,” he says, looking directly into my eyes now.

  My stomach flutters. “No doubt we—I—have botched this meeting, and I’m not going to offer any excuses.” I swallow hard. “But if you’d just give us a chance to regroup and come back with a second pitch, I know we can impress you.”

  Jesus. That came off cockier than I’d intended, but we could use a break here.

  Duke doesn’t say anything. I hold his stare and pretend my core isn’t tightening in response to his raw sexuality. His eyes travel the length of my body. It’s so subtle, and yet I feel stripped bare. Naked and vulnerable. My skin burns so hot I’m afraid it might catch fire.

  He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “I don’t give second chances.”

  The air pushes out of my lungs in a hard gasp. My eyes burn and I blink back tears.

  “But I will agree to hear a revised pitch,” he says. “Tonight.”

  My knees buckle with relief.

  Jake tilts his head back and lets loose a sigh. Forrest’s grin stretches from one side of his boyish face to the other.

  “Tonight?” I repeat.

  Duke nods. “At dinner.”

  My throat practically closes shut at the thought of having to do this again so soon. Facing Duke Kingston is like going before a firing squad.

  He glances at his watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting to attend.”

  “Of course,” Forrest says. “And thank you, sir.”

  “You won’t regret this,” Jake says, extending his hand. “We’ll look forward to dinner.”

  Duke dismisses them and locks his gaze on me again. “Just you,” he says. “My secretary will call you with the details.”

  A shockwave of thrill and fear ripples through me.

  Chapter 3

  Jake pours a glass of beer from the pitcher and slumps in his chair. “That guy Kingston is a motherfucker.” He shakes his head and his eyes go dark. “Thinks he can just walk all over people. Rich asshole.”

  I shoot him a look. “Calm down, Jake.”

  I think he might be getting drunk.

  Meanwhile, the delicious scent of fried cheese wafts from the deep-dish pizza at the center of the graffiti-riddled table. I resist picking at it, not wanting to ruin my appetite. Like I’ll be able to eat when I’m out with Duke, anyway.

  “At least we’re still in the game,” Forrest says, taking a sip of Guinness. Foam sticks to his upper lip and he licks it away.

  I pretend to be the reasonable one. “The important thing is that we have a second shot here. Let’s not blow it.”

  Jake snorts. “No, you have a second shot. Duke Kingston wants nothing to do with me and Forrest.”

  Forrest gives me a look as if telling me to ignore Jake’s whining. “If we make a deal, we all get paid regardless of who Duke Kingston meets with.”

  “Yeah, well maybe she’ll be able to do something you and me couldn’t do to close the deal,” Jake mutters.

  I turn to him, my cheeks blazing. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Forrest says. “He’s drunk and pissed off because Marissa broke up with him.”

  I sigh, trying to decide between feeling angry at the way Jake’s behaving or showing sympathy over his personal loss. I end up somewhere in the middle. “You guys will get back together,” I tell him.

  Jake just shakes his head and holds up his cell. “Marissa’s done. For good this time.”

  I’ll believe that when I see it. The two have been dating for the better part of the last three years. I’m not surprised Marissa’s called it quits, since they’ve always been extremely volatile. I am a bit shocked, however, tha
t Jake appears to accept that this time it might be for real.

  Jake’s never done very well when the two have split for short periods of time in the past. He has some kind of obsession with Marissa…and I suppose she must like it, because she keeps getting back with him again and again.

  “She’ll be back,” Forrest says, echoing my own sentiments.

  My thoughts turn back to Duke—his cold, calculating mind and that rock-hard body. Sin practically oozes from his pores. And those eyes. Wicked. The intensity of his stare almost gave me a damn orgasm.

  I cross my legs tighter together in an attempt to curb the tingle between my thighs, but it’s useless. I’ve been in constant discomfort since we left Kingston Industries. And that scares the shit out of me.

  Especially knowing I’m going to be alone with him in a matter of hours.

  “Can you believe that, Hailey?” Jake’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

  “Sorry, believe what?”

  A flash of annoyance crosses his face. “Can you believe that she said she won’t even give me one last face-to-face conversation for some closure?”

  I reach across the table to put my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, hon. She’ll come around.”

  He flinches away from me and his expression darkens. “She’d better,” he mutters.

  Our table falls temporarily silent.

  Forrest clears his throat. “Can we move on to issues of real importance?”

  Jake downs the last of his beer, and pours another. I’ve barely made a dent in mine.

  “We have a second chance with Kingston Industries,” Forrest says. He doesn’t meet my eyes, which tells me he’s put off that I’m the only one who was asked to go to dinner.

  “We need a strategy,” I say, nodding, looking to my partners for help.

  Jake snorts. “Not really.”

  I glare at him, my patience fraying now. “Just say what you want to say, Jake. You think I should sleep with him so he gives us the money?”

  Jake shrugs but won’t look at me as he guzzles his beer.

  Forrest tries to be the voice of reason. “I’m not saying you sleep with him, but maybe just…I don’t know. Flirt a little if he seems to want that.”

  I stare at Forrest, my eyes wide. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “It’s the way the world works,” Forrest says, itching his nose.

  Jake laughs and shakes his head, clearly bitter.

  “This is total bullshit,” I tell them both. “Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean that I have to be a sex object for some rich investor. Maybe he thought I was the smartest of the three of us—did that ever occur to either of you?”

  “Not really,” Jake says. He pours the last of the pitcher into his cup.

  I want to tell them both to go to hell, but then I remind myself that this has been an incredibly stressful day and none of us have handled it well.

  But now I’m deep in my head, waves of anxiety washing over me.

  I’m already worked up over the thought of going to dinner—what the hell am I going to wear?—and the last thing I need is Jake’s smart-ass sarcasm and bitterness infection my thinking as well.

  My thoughts return to the boardroom. I press my back into the chair, imagining what it would have been like to have Duke’s groin pressed against my ass, his cock hard through his pants. I close my eyes and allow myself to fantasize that his hands are on my bare hips as he bends me forward. His palms skim along the soft curve of my hip, skip along my abdomen and wrap around to cup my breasts. My nipples go tight.

  “Hailey?” Forrest asks.

  I snap out of my fantasy and pretend that I wasn’t just thinking about Duke fucking me in his conference room. “Yeah?”

  Forrest pinches is bottom lip as he broods. “All kidding aside, I think we need to target a more narrowed segment of the population.” He sighs. “I liked what you said to Kingston about having a big upside. His risk, high reward. If we could somehow sell him on the idea that the MicroTracker could corner a niche market, maybe he’d be more interested.”

  “Exactly.” I cup my hands around the beer mug, allowing the cold condensation to cool my skin. “But which market?”

  Jake types into his phone. “…fucking bullshit…” he says, to nobody in particular.

  Forrest shakes his head. “I don’t know. There has to be a natural fit.”

  And then my eyebrows raise and I feel the shock of the obvious. “How about law enforcement. Or…military, maybe?”

  Forrest sits up straight. “Hey, you could be on to something.”

  I know that I am, which gets my heart racing. If I can convince Duke that Kingston Industries will have exclusive patent rights to a device that could revolutionize the spy industry—for the greater good, of course—then I’m sure he’ll invest in the product. With a bit more money, we could make the right enhancements to make it worth everyone’s while.

  Forrest leans forward. “But do you think Kingston will go for it?”

  Movement across the street catches my eye. A man in a Chicago Cubs baseball cap hovers in front of the Nike store. There’s something familiar about him. I could swear he was there when we first arrived at the pub, standing and staring through the window in exactly the same position. Almost as if he’s been watching…us.

  I tap Jake on the shoulder, interrupting another animated discussion. “Hey, do you know that guy?”

  Jake leans forward to get a better look. “What guy?”

  “The one—” Just as I go to point him out, I realize he’s already gone. I try to shake off the unease, but my skin tingles with anxiety.

  Great, now I’m also becoming paranoid.

  I polish off the last of my beer and set the glass on the table. “I should get going.”

  I gather my purse and stand, smoothing out my skirt to avoid eye contact. Forrest, always perceptive, picks up on my discomfort and grabs my wrist. “Hey, we were just razzing you before about Kingston, Hailey. Don’t take it so seriously.”

  Right.

  I exhale hard. “But it is serious, Forrest. We’re not in school anymore.”

  Forrest seems chastened, nodding his head at my words.

  Jake is tapping away at his phone.

  “Not going to bother to wish me luck?” I ask him, feeling more and more annoyed at his bad behavior.

  Jake finally glances up at me, and his eyes are dark with venomous resentment and envy. “You don’t need luck, Hailey. You’ve got other assets far more important.”

  I want to tell him to fuck off, but instead I turn on my heel and head out.

  For all my partners’ boisterous talk, neither of them have the spine to sit face-to-face with Duke Kingston. They’re trying to pawn it off on me being a girl so they don’t have to deal with the fact that I’ve always been the leader of our group.

  Nothing’s changed.

  I still have to close this deal one way or another.

  Chapter 4

  Hot steam fills the bathroom. I climb out of my skirt, strip out of my blouse, my underwear and my bra, and step into the scalding water. It streams down my shoulders and along my spine, easing out the tension that has me wound up like a jack in the box.

  The overhead pipes groan as they struggle to draw from the small water tank. I’ve got about five minutes before this shower turns ice cold—and that’s only if old Mrs. Crockett upstairs hasn’t had two baths today.

  I fantasize about being rich someday, and buying an entire apartment’s worth of hot water tanks so I can shower for hours. Days. Maybe a whole month. I don’t even care if I shrivel up like a prune.

  I lather with soap and rub it across my stomach and under my breasts. My thumb catches on my nipple. I gasp and touch it again, this time pinching it between my fingertips.

  The sting is shocking.

  Soap suds slide down my chest, trailing down over the curve of my stomach. I reach around to wash my lower back while my thoughts return to Duke. I imagine his strong hands e
xploring my body. He cups my ass from behind, squeezes, and then slides one palm between my legs, massaging my inner thigh as his mouth closes in on the back of my neck.

  A strangled moan escapes my lips.

  The water begins to cool.

  I lather up more soap and bend to wash my legs, fingertips inching up along my thighs. My pinky grazes the tight nub of my clit and I clench in response. Cool water drizzles between my breasts. I imagine Duke’s tongue there, lightly flicking my skin as water streams down around us.

  My entire body aches for his touch.

  I unhook the shower head, turn the spray nozzle to a more powerful stream, and point it between my legs. The water pulses against my flesh. I grind my hips up against the nozzle, slowly at first, and then gaining momentum as I discover new pressure points. I lean against the tile and arch my back.

  Jesus. I have never done anything like this before. I can’t believe how amazing it feels. Pleasure sweeps over me in intermittent waves, the fantasy consuming my thoughts, my actions. I picture Duke’s face between my legs, the raw edges of his beard scratching at my inner thighs as his tongue licks and swirls and—

  The water turns to ice.

  I yank the shower head away, shocked, my desire deflating faster than a popped balloon. My breath comes in small shallow pants. I turn off the water, re-attach the showerhead and quickly towel off. My skin is so goose pimpled it’s like sandpaper.

  I haven’t washed my hair, haven’t fully rinsed.

  No wonder I’m fucking single.

  I wrap the towel around me, pull my wet hair into a loose bun, and pad through to the kitchen to check my phone—no messages or texts—and then to my bedroom. My cat, Onyx, stares at me with knowing eyes.

  “Stop judging,” I hiss. He flicks his tail and licks his lips. Smart ass.

  My closet creaks as I open it. I push some hangers aside, and that’s when panic sets in—I have nothing to wear. Wool skirts, pencil skirts, plaid skirts, even a damn tutu from that phase of my life. I find more cardigans than the local thrift mart. Every pair of jeans I own is riddled with holes—hip, but not professional—and my single pair of dress pants gives me about as much shape as a potato. Ugh. I wore my most professional outfit for today’s meeting. There is nothing in my closet except—