Page 28 of Ruthless Wars

The sweet-as-pie intern is a little lost puppy in a sea of sharks. Despite the heroic efforts of HR, we just haven’t managed to find the right position for the guy. Sometimes sharp, sometimes clueless, always smiling. Eagerly, he jumps in to be our part-time photographer today. It’s his go-getter attitude that helps me overlook the fact that his own camera phone seems to be kicking his ass.

The bubbly is quickly passed around, with Jean lending a hand to speed up the faux festivities.

“Mr. Byrne,” I say, faking a smile. “Assuming you’re the man of the hour who will be requesting a seat on the board, you could sign your letter of intent here and now.”

“Interesting,” he says, taking the glass handed to him. “What’s the rush, Ms. Long? We’ve just scratched the surface of the phone book of contracts for these transactions. How about we get to know each other before we rush into bed together? Figuratively speaking.”

“Well,” I say insistently with a wide smile, “we’ve got the perfect photo op. We’re all here, at the beginning of a historic moment for our companies. Unless there’s a reason you don’t want to. Or perhaps I’ve overstepped in assuming you would be submitting an intent.”

Silence fills the room.

The two-dozen people between us seem to squirm in their seats under the weight of his stare. Still composed, he darts a glare at me, and his lips take on a competitive twist that means only one thing.

The war has begun.

At the very heart of me, I’m a Long, and we Longs aren’t a bunch of power-hungry pussies who cower from a fight. My generational stock was built to kick ass, take names, and dominate the fucking world ... one power-hungry asshole at a time.

Salaciously coy, I hold my ground, batting my eyes defiantly.

Suppressing his irritation, Coop cools his temper with a smooth smile and holds up his glass. “I’ll take the champagne, but I’m not signing anything today. Far from it. As I said, we’ve barely scratched the surface of negotiating the controlling interest of a dozen of your subsidiaries. And as my appointment to the board is this unprecedented, I think a little time to digest all the fine print is certainly in order.”

Pointedly, and with a provocatively hot stare, he says to me, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Chapter Seventeen

Margot

Keeping my calm, I answer. “Oh, I agree.” After a quick sip of champagne, I continue. “I agree that most of these negotiations can be easily handled by the remarkable people in this room. Because as beautiful as you are, Mr. Byrne, sadly, my attention is needed elsewhere.”

Two not-so-subtle kicks smack my lower legs, pushing the slightest ow from my lips. They were deserved. My last-minute decision wasn’t exactly shared with Jean or Evie. I choose to ignore Evie scrawling Really? across an entire page of the contract.

Remorseful but leaving nonetheless, I rest a hand on each of their shoulders. “Jean is our head negotiator, and Evelyn Banks is lead counsel. So, unless there’s an objection, or something, uh, meatier that I can swallow, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave.”

I enjoy every bit of satisfaction at seeing Coop rendered speechless. That is, until his overt scan of the room clues me in to the myriad of wide eyes staring in shock at me.

Feebly, I make a weak attempt to cover my scandalous remark with, “Figuratively speaking.” I’m not sure, but I think that made it worse. Undeterred, I double-down on my play. “Good. Then it’s settled.”

Before my swift feet can take me through the door, Coop gets in one more frustrating last word.

“Actually,” he says, his word instantly making me cringe with what he might have to say, whether it be about my unprofessional comment or the lace thong tucked deep in his breast pocket. “Now that you mention it, Ms. Long, I feel positively foolish for not realizing it before, but I’m not exactly needed here either. Am I?”

His question spurs every head to whip right back to me, and he's managed to turn the tables. Now I'm the one rendered speechless. I see where this is going, and whether I like it or not, Coop is making it a point to leave with me. Well played.

My mind races ...

No doubt he’ll follow me into the elevator.

Maybe pressure me for a seat on the board.

Press me up against the wall, hike up my skirt, and give me one big throbbing reason to do it.

A pair of kicks from beneath the table shock three quiet words from my lips. “I guess not.”

“Good. Allison,” he says, practically massaging the girl’s shoulder as a big fat middle finger to me in front of everyone. “You’ve got this,” he says, releasing his grip as he captures me with his penetrating gaze.

Allison opens her mouth, probably to object, but snaps it shut after a subtle shake of his head.

“Simone will assist as lead counsel.”

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