Page 5 of Nothing to You (Nothing to… #7)

THE NEXT TIME the door opened, she was the one with the handle. Someone had knocked. Again, she expected Helena. Instead, it was Franco. Suited, looking dapper.

She smiled at his slow perusal of her body.

“Wow, and I thought I’d need to persuade you,” he said.

“Why would I miss the welcome dinner?” she asked, stroking her hair from behind to bring it forward over her shoulder.

“Helena said she told you to stay put.”

“Mm,” Roux said, stepping back to showcase the long sparkling dress with spaghetti straps and a wide slit that showed off her leg, all the way to her hip. “I spent a fortune on this dress. Do you think it should stay in the closet?”

Smiling, he offered his crooked elbow. She slipped her keycard into her clutch and closed the clasp before taking his arm.

They started down the hallway.

“You look incredible,” Franco said. “You’re the hottest woman in our department, maybe the building…” They stopped at the elevator; she pressed the call button. “You know, you’ll laugh, but…”

When he didn’t continue, she sought his gaze. “But what?”

“I promised myself if you broke up with Joyner…” He cleared his throat. “I’d ask you out.” She smiled. “Stupid, right?”

“I broke up with Greg four months ago.”

“I know,” he said on a sheepish laugh. “Making a promise isn’t as easy as keeping it.”

The elevator doors opened. “Story of my life, Franco.”

They went inside and selected the ballroom floor. “You’re the most intimidating woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “Most guys I know are terrified to talk to you.”

“I’m not intimidating,” she said, then thought about it. “Am I?”

“You’re independent.”

“A lot of women are independent.”

“You’re opinionated.”

“Most women have opinions too,” she said, touching the long diamond earring dangling from its hook in her ear. “Is there something wrong with women forming their own opinions?”

“No,” he said hurriedly. “Nothing at all. You just… express them… vehemently.”

“Hmm,” she said, taking his elbow when the doors opened to let them out. “Do you know where our table is?”

The ballroom was directly opposite the elevators. Suited attendants stood by the wide, open doors. The scope of the place was impressive. A glittering chandelier hung over the dozens of tables beneath. A podium in front of the small symphonic band suggested someone was going to speak at some point.

Champagne was offered at the door. She took a flute and let Franco worry about them finding their table. If they wandered around long enough, Helena would catch sight of her and make herself known.

Sure enough, just as Franco found purpose, someone rose in her eyeline. Helena. Her escort let go of her not long before they got there. He wouldn’t want to be blamed for tempting her out of her room. What Helena didn’t know was that she’d never intended to stay put. Cowering wasn’t her style.

“I thought I told you to stay in your room,” Helena leaned in to hiss when she sat.

“I apologize,” she said to the table. “To everyone… for my behavior at the pitch.”

“Guess we shouldn’t have expected you to keep a lid on it,” Myles said. “You were super passionate about Huddle Hope.”

“I am passionate about it,” she said. “I don’t think of it in the past tense.”

“Do you think we still have a chance?”

“No,” Helena said. “Not after the way she laid into Xavien Rourke.”

“The guy on the panel said Rourke wasn’t assessing anything,” Myles said. “Maybe he wouldn’t—”

“It might have helped if the figures were rock solid,” Helena said, glaring at Franco. “Did you fix them?”

“Yeah, I… I’ll sleep on it and go over them again tomorrow.”

“I can’t find any way to submit additional materials,” Helena said. “I tried to ask about it, but everyone else handed out their packs at the pitch. We don’t get a second shot.”

She could get additional materials to the panel.

Through Hotshot. Rourke, is that how she was supposed to think of him?

Xavien. It was too weird. And that kiss.

What was that about? He’d just kissed her.

Boom. Taken charge and… Helena was still talking; servers were somewhere in her periphery passing out plates.

Her fingers ran through the loose curls of her hair on her shoulder.

Meeting him. Kissing him. It was still processing. Getting ready for dinner had given her a distraction, something to take her mind off him.

After that weekend, if he stuck around for the conference, they’d have no reason to talk to each other again.

The safety of what they’d been was gone.

Their security. Their carefully crafted personas, hidden in a digital world, had been blasted to shit.

God knew what the guy was really like. Sure, she’d figured Hotshot was no slouch, he’d told her he had a business.

Mosaic was more than just a simple business.

It was a massive multinational with interests in many industries.

Huddle was just a tiny piece of the man’s overall empire.

Empire. Hotshot had an empire. Was successful. Rich. Powerful. A model dater… What the hell was he doing hanging out with her night after night on Huddle?

They got through dinner. She didn’t say much. The guys talked about their figures and got excited about the possibility of reaching the next stage. Helena wasn’t optimistic.

Huddle Hope meant something to her. Yet the idea of moving to California wasn’t as appealing now knowing Hotshot lived there. Overbearing, infuriating, rude Hotshot.

Her clutch vibrated on her lap.

Helena was again talking about how they’d lost their chance. She switched off and opened her clutch to check the screen.

HOTSHOT: Excuse yourself.

What a dick. Did he think giving orders would be endearing? At least now she understood why he was so goddamn arrogant.

Ignoring the message, she slipped her phone back into her clutch and picked up her wine. Downing the last of it, she didn’t hesitate to pick up the bottle and refill it.

“We worked for months on this,” Helena said. “All that work’s just disappeared because Roux couldn’t keep her mouth shut.”

“You’ve said that,” Roux said. “Repeatedly.” Helena was a grade above her, technically her superior, but she wasn’t a supervisor. “I said sorry. What else is there to say?”

“This was a massive opportunity. We could’ve been catapulted to… We could’ve been successful. Lived the LA life!”

“Mosaic isn’t based in LA,” she said.

That was true. Why were they in LA for the conference? Wasn’t it just a big inconvenience for the executives to travel south for the party? Maybe they needed the separation to drag themselves away from the office.

Another vibration. She slid her phone from the clutch just enough to read her Huddle messages.

HOTSHOT: Come outside.

Apparently, this guy didn’t take no for an answer. Why was he so persistent? They couldn’t hang out in public. Couldn’t hang out at all.

HOTSHOT: The terrace doors in the bar are open. Walk out and down the stairs.

Was it his compulsion to treat people like idiots? Just because she didn’t follow his instructions didn’t mean she didn’t understand them. They were clear. Unlike his reason for breaking what had been working for them.

More wine. That would help.

HOTSHOT: You going to make me come get you?

Blackmail? Really. If she didn’t leave, he’d come in and get her. What gave him the right? Someone needed to set this guy straight. Somewhere along the way, he’d confused her for a pushover.

Her glass was still in her hand when she stood up. She gulped half of its contents, then put the rest down. Her colleagues could wonder. With the adrenaline amping her, she couldn’t make polite excuses.

The bar was by the entrance; she’d seen it as they came in. There were matching glass doors to the terrace from the ballroom, but they weren’t open. The doors in the bar were, and it was busy enough that she doubted anyone cared who went outside.

Smokers used the beautiful deck. With dinner not long over, plenty of people were getting their nicotine hit. The glass perimeter barrier around the raised wooden terrace continued down the stairs to the path into the grounds.

A trickling fountain at the end drew her closer. Light beneath the water shone up, illuminating the pool in a sparkling glow.

“You’re a cheap date, Radley.”

Spinning toward the male voice, she found him seated on a carved stone bench, hidden between ten-foot hedges. The fountain didn’t matter to him. The grounds didn’t. The people. The party. He fixed his smirk on her and didn’t flinch.

“Don’t deal idle threats,” she said, grabbing her dress at her thigh to hold it up as she crossed the grass.

“Never do. Never would.”

She stopped in front of him. “So what was that don’t make me come get you message?”

“In thirty more seconds, I would have.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she said. “You don’t want the world to know about this. If you did, you could’ve posted a company memo.”

“Saying what?”

“That you get your kicks arguing with subordinates. Did you talk to my boss? Ask him for all the gossip? Any rumors about me?”

“Why would I do that? You tell me shit every day.”

The reminder heated her blood, though a chill crossed her shoulders. “I can’t believe you’re… You know, it’s probably illegal… Isn’t it catfishing?”

“Which in itself isn’t illegal. And I didn’t claim not to be me. You didn’t ask.”

“Why would I?” she asked, exasperated. “You’ve been in the perfect position to know everything about me from the beginning. I bet you stalked me, didn’t you? You stalked my personnel records.”

“No. You think I have time for that shit? I’m a busy man. I never looked you up.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Didn’t need to,” he said and snickered. “Why are you mad? I didn’t extort or seduce you. Our friendship was mutual.”

“Changing it, this, wasn’t.”

Resting back against the bench, he laid an arm along the cool concrete. “You going to sit down?”

“No,” she said.

“Because you pace when you argue with me.” He reminded her of their connection. “Walk it out, baby.”