Page 13 of Rival Desires

I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of leather and gasoline that filled the car. It was a familiar smell, one that always made me feel grounded.

I could do this.

As I swaggeredinto the office on Monday morning, my heels clicked away confidently on the polished concrete floor. The glass door shut behind me with a snappy “click” that practically screamed, “Brace yourselves, folks, it’s game time.”

I was packing an assortment of pastries from the poshest French bakery just around the corner because even the toughest financial associates enjoyed a little flaky delight with their high-pressure meetings.

After placing the elegant treats in the minimalist conference room, I sent a quick, firm email to my team: “Mandatory strategy meeting in ten minutes. Conference room. Urgent.”

My employees soon trickled in, chatting in hushed voices and exchanging uneasy glances as they helped themselves to pastries and coffee. They settled into their usual spots around the imposing glass table.

I inhaled deeply and scanned the room, taking in my team’s faces, etched with a mix of anxiety and curiosity about this urgent meeting, as I straightened my shoulders and prepared to deliver the news that would shake up their Monday morning.

“Alright, folks,” I began, “I know this is out of the blue, but I’ve been cooking up a new plan.”

A few eyebrows raised, and whispers erupted around the table. Most of them looked hesitant. But not Sergio. My newest recruit leaned forward, his gaze locked on mine, a fierce determination in his eyes. “We’re changing strategy?”

I could see the fire in his eyes. He was already on board no matter what.

“Well, kind of,” I said, drawing out the word with a grin. “Our goal is still to reel in new clients everywhere we can, but now we’ve got our sights set on a juicy target. We’re going to snatch up every single account we can from Gracen & McCrae, our so-called ‘friends’ down the street.”

The room went silent, then Sergio’s eyebrow quirked up, almost like he relished the challenge. The others? Not so much.

“Good call,” Sergio declared, slapping the table for emphasis. “Let’s shake things up and show those old-school assholes what we’re made of.”

A smirk danced across my lips. Sergio might be a little over the top, but this was exactly the kind of enthusiasm I’d been fishing for.

Sergio hung back as the team dispersed while discussing strategies in hushed tones. He flashed me a roguish smile. “You know, we should toast to our new mission. What do you say we grab a drink tonight?”

I hesitated, biting my lip. I had a strict policy against mixing business and pleasure. But there was something about Sergio’s confidence that made it hard to resist.

I raised a hand, shaking my head. “Sorry, Sergio. You know the rules. I can’t cross that line.”

His smile faltered, but he quickly recovered, giving me a nod. “Right, right. I understand. Just thought I’d ask.”

Alone in the conference room, the earlier exhilaration seeped out of me, leaving behind a deflated sense of longing. I slumpedinto a chair, its plush leather cushion doing little to comfort my restless body. My thoughts drifted to Cory McCrae, his chiseled physique, and that generously proportioned package that had left me breathless. I could still feel my hand wrapped around it, the heat of his skin searing my palm. A shiver ran down my spine, and I bit my lip, savoring the illicit memory.

“Get a fucking grip, Rylee,” I muttered, trying to shake off the distraction. I sighed, rubbing my temples as if I could massage away the desire that pooled in my belly. Maybe I did need that drink after all. Anything to dull the edge of my frustration, to quiet the insistent voice in my head.

NINE

Cory

When I told Fury about Rylee Palmer, I knew we’d be working overtime. It wasn’t just about keeping Gracen & McCrae’s new investment management strategy on the straight and narrow; it was also about giving Rylee a taste of her own medicine.

But man, trying to push those thoughts of the mind-blowing sex we had to the back of my brain? It was like trying to stuff a beach ball into a shoebox. No matter how hard I pushed, the memories kept bouncing back, reminding me of just how incredible it felt to have her body pressed against mine. It was infuriating, really. I mean, here I was, attempting to concentrate on business and revenge, and all my brain wanted to do was replay our two juicy encounters on an endless loop. Talk about a fucking distraction. Literally.

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

Stupid, stupid brain.

A rap on my door jolted me back to reality. Warner, my trusty sidekick, peeked his head in. Despite being thirty-one, he hadthat youthful vibe going on with his baby face. But don’t let that fool you. He was the best assistant I’d ever had.

“Fury’s summoning you,” Warner informed me, his face expressing his disapproval of Fury’s tone. Typical Fury turning into a bit of a tough cookie when he’s set his sights on something.

“Appreciate it,” I replied, hopping up from my seat. “Reschedule my morning appointments to the afternoon, would ya? Just in case Fury’s got a lot brewing.”

“Sure thing. Text me if you want lunch ordered in,” he said, returning to his desk.

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