Business and Pleasure Page 2

*****

  Nicki meets me at Le Caire right at six o’clock, punctual as always, a personality trait I truly appreciate. I absolutely cannot stand when people are late. Nicki and I walk inside and claim our normal table. I love Le Caire—coming here is like stepping into another world. The bar’s dimmed lighting, red draperies, understated décor, and hookahs on every table makes you feel as if you are in the Middle East, a million miles away from downtown New York. One can’t find a more relaxing place to lounge.

  Nicki and I decide to order two French martinis and the strawberry hookah, intending to relax and let the music take us wherever we want to go. I fill Nicki in on what’s going on at work, and by the look on her face, I guess she’s just as shocked as I am. The more I talk about the situation, the more furious I become. I cannot wait until tomorrow, so I can meet the ass who has disrupted my life and tell him where he can go.

  “Damn, Lizzy. I can’t believe someone actually wants to buy your business. I mean, you’ve only been in operation for three years.”

  “I know…right? Why me? What’s the big attraction?” I let out a sigh, and then flag down the waitress so I can order another martini. I’m still entirely too tense.

  “Are you sure you want another one? This’ll make five, and you need to be fresh for your meeting tomorrow morning.”

  Shit. She’s right, of course. Last thing I need is to face my nameless adversary—why the hell hadn’t I thought to ask the man’s name?—across the boardroom table with my head pounding and my stomach rolling. “This will be my last one.”

  Nicki gives me a soft smile as she sips her martini. “Maybe you should think about relieving your stress the way you usually do, if you catch my drift.”

  She gives me a wink then goes back to her martini. Yes, I know exactly what she’s talking about, and actually, I’m already one step ahead of her. I laugh and say, “I already texted Mark. He’s meeting me at my place at eleven.”

  “Mark again, huh? Not Steve, or Phil, or Ryan?” She adds her laughter to mine.

  “Ha ha. Very funny. So…I have a lot of guy friends. What’s your point?”

  Nicki makes a noise, as if she’s choking on her drink. “Friends? I think they’re a little more than just friends.”

  “Friends with benefits? Isn’t that what they call them?” I tease her. “Yeah. But so what? I like sex. I like sex with different people. Sex helps relieve my tension. And it’s not as if any of them think they are the only one. They all know I am not looking for a relationship, so they’re all happy to…give me a hand, so to speak.”

  Nicki downs the rest of her drink. “Yes, but Mark again? It’s been Mark the last few times, hasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so, but he’s the only one who really knows what I like, and he is very generous. It’s not about him when we are together. He’s the only one, who takes care of me, and it’s not just about sex with him; he’s also one of my best friends. He’s like you, but you won’t sleep with me.”

  We both let out a huge laugh at that one.

  “No, Lizzy. I love you, but not that much. Come on; let’s get you home, so you and Mark can have some fun.”

  I call my driver, because it’s late, and I don’t like walking home after dark—never have. Although, I probably shouldn’t call Joseph my driver; he’s actually my head of security, but he also prefers doing the driving. Within minutes, he pulls up next to the curb, driving the solid-black CTS-V Sedan I love so much. The tinted windows provide a sense of safety and privacy, since no one can see inside. Let’s face it; money creates a need for additional security. As we pull into the garage beneath my building, I can’t stop thinking about the meeting tomorrow. And the more I think, the angrier I become. The drinking did nothing to calm my nerves, so I’m praying spending some time with Mark will help me relax…at least to the point I can get some sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Tonight, I decide not to bother with lingerie or make any fancy preparations. I throw on my t-shirt, pour myself a glass of wine, and sit at my window overlooking Manhattan while I wait on Mark. Thankfully, I didn’t have long to wait. After roughly ten minutes, there’s a knock at the door. I draw in a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and go to answer, but the minute he sees my face, he obviously knows something is wrong.

  “What’s going on, Lizzy?”

  He calls me by the nickname I reserve for only a certain few special people. Only Nicki, Becca, and Mark are allowed to refer to me as anything other than Elizabeth… A professional woman must maintain a certain level of decorum—especially in public—but those closest to me call me Lizzy, reminding me I have a vulnerable, feminine side. One I’m feeling all too much tonight.

  I let out a sigh and fall into Mark’s arms.

  “Someone wants to take over my company.” I manage to tell him through my sobs. “There is no way I will let someone buy me out.”

  Mark starts rubbing my back, and I sigh again at his touch, having had no idea how much I needed the comfort.

  “Shh, Lizzy; it’ll be okay. No one can outsmart you. You’ll show them whose boss and make sure they know they can’t have your company. I can’t imagine someone going up against you.”

  He always knows just what to say. He pulls back and looks me right in the eyes. “You are a professional, hardheaded, stubborn woman. I would hate to be the guy that pisses you off. No worries, Lizzy. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  I stop sobbing as Mark leans forward and kisses the tears from my cheeks. Yes, this is what I need. Someone to take me, overwhelm me, and make me forget everything.

  “Shall we go into the bedroom?” Mark asks, but he knows the answer and has taken my hand to lead in toward my room.

  He knows his way around my house almost as well as I do, considering he’s been here a hundred times, easy. Being with him like this feels comfortable. In fact, he’s the only one with whom I feel this at ease. Neither Steve, nor Phil, nor Ryan can make me feel the way Mark does. Mark and I discussed the possibility of dating—of forming an exclusive relationship—but we decided against the idea. There are too many risks involved. If we were to date and then something went wrong or it didn’t work out, we’d both lose a best friend. I don’t think Mark could live with that, and I know I couldn’t. So we have sex. Sex, interesting and intelligent conversation, and we comfort one another. It’s a perfect set-up. That is until he finds somebody, and I find myself alone again. I don’t worry about finding someone I love enough to walk away from what I have with Mark…I can’t imagine caring about someone else that much. I’ve attempted relationships before, but something always screwed things up—whether it be my money, my job, their life…there’s always something that gets in the way of my happiness. I am beginning to lose faith in relationships.

  As we make our way into my bedroom, Mark releases my hand long enough to remove his black t-shirt. He then takes my hand again as we walk closer to the bed. There, he lifts my t-shirt over my arms and allows it to fall to the floor. He tucks each index finger into the waistline of my thong and begins inching it toward the floor to join the shirt. His hands travel down my legs, brushing my sensitive flesh. I step from my underwear, and Mark straightens. He looks me in the eyes and kisses me, and his warm gaze holds the promise of future delights. I smile when he pulls back and unbuttons his jeans. As usual, he wears nothing underneath; why bother, he once told me. Might as well come prepared. After we are completely nude, he lays me back on the plush, white comforter, and then wastes no time climbing on top of me. Looking into his crystal blue eyes, I’m lost, completely and utterly lost. These are the only times I can let myself go, let my guard down, and allow someone else to take the lead. I forget everything that’s bothering me—hell, I forget my own name, at times. He’s that good…

  Mark kisses me again, and the heat between us grows to a scorching hot level. His lips are velvety soft against mine, and before I know it, his tongue is invading my mouth, joining mine. He breaks the kiss, trails feather-light kisse
s down my throat, making me squirm. His hands find their way to my breasts, and I moan as he teases each nipple, pulling at them, until he finally slides one hand down between legs and dips his fingers into my core.

  “Oh, yes; you’re ready for me.” He slides his fingertips up and down my sopping wet slit.

  “Yes…please. Take me“

  “Just a minute, baby. Patience, my love. Patience.”

  He uses the pad of his thumb to circle my swollen clitoris. The tension increases, until I feel as if I might explode. I need release. Now. But Mark has his own agenda…one he apparently means to follow until he drives me mad with desire. He strokes and plays with my pussy, and my moans grow louder. I cannot hold back any longer. If he doesn’t take me…

  “Mark! Now!”

  He raises his head and looks at me, a huge, mischievous smile lighting his handsome face. “You are such a demanding wench.”

  Wench? Hmm… We’ll see about that. But not right now. Right now, I need fucked. “Please!”

  “Please? Well, since you’re asking so nicely.”

  Finally, he kisses his way back up, starting at my stomach, pausing briefly to suckle each nipple, and then raising up to look me in the eye. Our gazes locked, he places his lips against mine, shifts his hips, and then slides inside me. He’s not the largest man in the world—um, sexual anatomically speaking—but he knows what he’s doing. He thrusts inside me, and I cry out. God, he definitely knows what he’s doing…

  “Yes. That’s it. Let go.”

  No problem… I couldn’t hold back if I wanted to. My body begins to tense up, I can feel every muscle get tighter and tighter, until sweet release overwhelms me. I fly, my spirit soaring, but Mark doesn’t stop. He continues pushing into me, again and again, each time harder and deeper than the time before. I have no time to recuperate before I can feel my body tensing once more. This time, I keep pace with him, and we climb to the summit together. We both cried out at the same time, and a part of me marvels at the additional pleasure to be found in a simultaneous orgasm. We collapse onto the bed, both of us drained but sated. I should say something, tell him how wonderful he was…thank him for helping me distress, but I can’t find the energy. Not yet. I’ll just lie here for a moment…wait until I catch my breath. Mark pulls me close, and despite my best intentions, I slip quickly into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

  *****

  I awaken the next morning to a bright and beautiful view, but my head is pounding so badly, I can barely appreciate it. I roll over to find a note, two aspirin, and a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. The note is from Mark.

  Take these aspirin and drink this entire glass of water. You need to be at the top of your game this morning. It will all work out, Lizzy. XOXO.

  Oh, thank the heavens. He always knows what to do…always anticipates my needs. I quickly pop both pills into my mouth and down the glass of water. He must have left only a little while ago; the water is still cold. As my senses start to return to normal, I reread Mark’s note, which reminds me what I have to do today. My heart races and a sense of dread makes my hands shake. I am not looking forward to my 9:00 a.m. meeting. Assholes. Yes, I know this is just business, and I realize these things happen, but I’ve already decided I hate them.

  I glance at the clock on the side table. Seven, already. Time to get moving. I jump into the shower, hoping the hot water will wake me up.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m back in my room, feeling moderately refreshed. The aspirins have done their job, and my head no longer feels as if someone’s beating on it with a sledgehammer. I throw on my black pantsuit over top of a dark red shirt, and slip into a pair of matching red Christian Louboutins. Once dressed, I twist up my hair and pin it to the top of my head, and then I apply a little makeup, keeping it on the neutral side. Today, I want to achieve a sophisticated yet powerful business woman look, and as I study my reflection in the full-length mirror, I feel satisfied with the end result. Looking good, I’ve discovered, gives one a sense of self-confidence, no matter how tough a situation one might face.

  Everything will be fine, I tell myself as I leave the house and head to work. I stop off and grab my vanilla latte, requesting an extra shot of espresso because something tells me I’m going to need the added energy boost, By the time I reach the office, I’m wide awake, my headache is completely gone, and my mood has significantly improved. The walk in always gets my blood going, and today is no exception. In fact, if anything, I feel better than normal…probably due to the amazing hour or so I spent in Mark’s embrace the night before.

  I push away all negative thoughts, settle in at my desk, and read my email as I sip my coffee. The buzzing intercom makes me jump.

  “Yes?” I press the button and talk into the speaker.

  “It’s almost nine,” Bob says. “We’re meeting in the conference room instead of in my office.”

  My gaze goes to the little clock in the bottom, right-hand corner of my laptop. 8:56. I have four minutes to gather my nerves.

  “Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you in a few.” I release the button, disconnecting Bob’s call, and sit back in my chair.

  For the next sixty seconds, I practice a few deep breathing exercises…something I learned while watching a yoga video Becca found online a few weeks ago, when she was having trouble relaxing before a big exam. This wasn’t the first time the silly practice helped me get my head together, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  A little calmer, I head for the conference room, but the closer I get, the more my stomach twists. By the time I arrive, it’s in knots, and my hands are clammy and shaking.

  “Elizabeth should be here any moment. Can I get you anything? A cup of coffee? Some water?”

  Standing outside the door, I hear Bob making smalltalk. He sounds like such a kiss ass…and he’s kissing the wrong ass, that’s for sure. If I did not know better, I would think Bob was all for selling out. But he has to know I’ll fire him, if I have to. This company is mine. End. Of. Story.

  I take a final deep, calming breath and step inside the conference room. Quickly, I size up my…competition. There are two people—strangers I’ve never seen—sitting at the table. One, a fairly nice-looking woman who looks to be in her mid-thirties, glances at me briefly, before looking away. She has long, wavy blonde hair, she’s wearing bright red lipstick, and she looks more like some rich guy’s arm-candy wife than a businesswoman. She remains seated, but the guy she’s with stands. My gaze travels up…and up…he has to be at least six feet tall. He has emerald-green eyes and short, dirty-blonde hair that sweeps to one side in the front. My knowledge of style allows me to recognize he’s wearing a very nice, gray Armani suit. My knowledge of the opposite sex allows me to recognize he’s one of the nicest-looking men on the planet. Definitely in the top ten percent.

  Why are we here again? Sheesh. My mind’s going to mush. His fitted suit does nothing but make me wonder what he might look like without it. I even imagine walking my fingers down the front of his shirt, releasing each button along the way…

  I give my head a shake. Snap out of it, Elizabeth! The man is here to take over your company. I should not be fantasizing about him. Thank goodness, Bob begins to make the introductions.

  “Elizabeth, this is Christina Miller, CFO of Preston Enterprises.”

  Christina stands up finally, and we shake hands. Her palm is icy cold against mine, and I quickly release her hand to turn and greet her extremely good-looking associate.

  “And this is Alexander Preston, CEO.”

  Our eyes meet as he leans forward to shake my hand. I feel an instantaneous spark, but I try to ignore it.

  “Elizabeth.”

  I nod. “Alexander.”

  “Please, call me Alex.”

  I nod again; very aware of the fact that I am borderline staring. Once again, Bob saves me from completely embarrassing myself.

  “Okay,” he says, and claps his hands, “shall we get down to business?”

  W
e sit and talk for an hour, easy, constantly going back and forth with no real results in sight. I just want these people to leave and never return. I will admit, they make a good argument. They make the idea of selling sound like a good idea—beneficial to everyone, but especially to me. But this company is my baby, not theirs. They will not care for it the way I do. Preston Enterprises owns everything. They buy out all their competition. They already own several small publishing houses, so why do they need mine? Oh…that’s right, I’m the competition. Even though I do not feel like I am. I never look at the publishing business that way. I never see myself as competing.

  As the meeting wears on, I become more and more frustrated, and Bob is no help. He seems to love the idea of Preston Enterprises taking over, introducing a whole new set of authors to us, opening the doors for “bigger and better things,” but Bob doesn’t own this company. I do. Me. Not him. Not them. I will not let them take over and turn my business into some stupid empire where no one actually works or cares about their authors or the material that comes through their doors. Worse yet, I will not allow them to buy me out, only to shut down the business. Although they’ve assured me that’s not their intention, I’m smart enough to know it’s always a possibility.

  “I hear what you’re saying, Alexander, but again, I’m not interested. I started this business three years ago, and I have no plans to sell it. Not to you; not to anyone. We’re doing just fine—which you already know, obviously, or you wouldn’t be here. So, thank you for your offer, but we will not be selling.”

  “You do realize I’m offering a partnership, not a take over? You would still be CEO of Hamilton Publishing.”

  I give him a slight nod. “Yes. I understand completely, and I am still not interested.”

  He looks downright depressed. “Okay. Well, I thank you both for meeting with us.”

  I stand up immediately, relieved this meeting is coming to an end, and offer my hand to each of them. Christina barely said five words throughout the entire meeting, and now she barely returns my handshake. Alexander, however, seems unwilling to release my hand once he has it. A part of me recognizes and returns the attraction, but the other part of me, the more rational part of me, wants him out of my building. Bob steps up, interrupting the magnetic moment, and shakes their hands, as well.