Page 24 of The Best Worst Mistake (Off-Limits #2)
Dax
Damn these late nights with Lila and her affinity for Italian takeout. This deal has been kicking my ass. More accurately, Abby Torres has been kicking my ass. And not in the type of sexy ass-kicking way I’d have hoped for after seeing her walk in on that first day.
Ever since I gave Abby the yellow light on calling me two weeks ago, she’s been even more aggressive than usual in and out of these meetings.
She’s denied all the tactics we’ve deployed to steal The Nile Group out from under her client, while keeping Lila, me, and the rest of the team back at the firm constantly searching for anything we think might prove to be valuable in taking it over.
Some of the team members have been pulling forty-eight-hour work benders, not wanting a single advantage to slip through the cracks in the time we have left.
It’s incredibly unhealthy, and why so many M that is, if I can make it there before keeling over. “These late nights at the office have been demolishing me.”
“Silas riding your ass?” he asks, more as a comment than a question. “Not surprised. I had to send a fleet of pilots his way, since I couldn’t keep up with him myself. How’s he been doing? I’m worried he’s starting to fall back into his old ways with everything I’m seeing online.”
I cringe. Si has been canceling his plans to attend our negotiations in favor of these side trips. We don’t need him there, but it would definitely help his position.
“Yeah, I still worry about him sometimes,” I admit. “The media loves to use anything they can to paint him as off-kilter, but I think he’s doing alright. Just distracting himself more than usual right now, and who can blame him?”
“He called me last night, asking to fly him to Ibiza next week,” Rye says, chuckling, though finally showing signs of panting like me now that the sun has come out in full force. “I told him I would have loved to go if I wasn’t so busy running his aviation needs all over the map.”
The sun is hanging just overhead, drenching us both in our own sweat.
“I’d give my right arm for a spontaneous, zero-responsibilities trip to Ibiza right now,” I tell him. But I had to convince Silas that I wasn’t able to take a week-long break from working on his deal to join him there, too.
“He also mentioned something about Abby Torres sitting opposite you on this one.” Ryeson side-eyes me. “That true?”
“Yep,” I say, not really wanting to talk about Abby right now.
We haven’t spoken personally since I told her to wait longer than a week to call me, but the way she secretly looks at me during breaks on negotiation days has me nearly eating my words.
I almost called her myself last night after seeing her show up in a pair of those red-soled heels yesterday, just like the ones she wore on our date in New York.
I have a feeling she did that on purpose, just to remind me of what happened the first time I saw her wearing them.
I had to bite down on my tongue hard enough to distract myself when we all reconvened during lunch and after I’d spent a full fifteen minutes standing behind her in line at the snack counter down the hall.
“I like your shoes,” I said to the back of her hair, not loud enough for anyone else to hear within earshot. I couldn’t help myself. “They look a bit familiar.”
She looked over her shoulder, just enough for me to see one dimple come out to play, but kept her lashes facing the floor, so anyone watching might miss the interaction between us.
“They’d look even more familiar in the corner of my bedroom,” she whispered. “Don’t you think?”
Christ .
“How are things between you two now? Is it awkward after what happened in New York? What’s going on with her?
” Ryeson pauses to nod at a gorgeous blonde who rolls by us, wearing only a thong bikini and a pair of rollerblades.
“God bless Venice Beach,” he adds under his breath, grinning wickedly at me.
I laugh. This stretch of the boardwalk is known for its vibrant characters, many of whom are legends among locals with well-known nicknames.
Venice has always been a place where certain types go to be seen, while the rest of us just enjoy the unique opportunity to watch some of the most interesting people in the city.
“Did I mention we hooked up there a few months back?” I ask, focusing on not breaking my stride. I can see The KillJoy sign coming into view up ahead.
“Like, you had dinner and then went back to her place, yeah,” Ryeson says, nearly missing a young hoverboarder who rolls too close to the toe-end of his shoes.
We jog in silence for a beat before he swerves off into the sand to have a stretch.
“Thank God,” I mumble, feeling a slight charley horse kick up in my calf, and more than happy for the break.
We face toward the ocean as we stretch our calves, watching the waves kick up onto the shore and catching a breeze rolling off the water.
A few surfers are out, in wetsuits, but it’s still a bit too cold to be swimming without one. Most of the beach crowd is just sunbathers and families, looking for a day of fresh air and sun.
“What the hell happened after that?” he asks. “You sleep together in New York, then she shows up at your conference table in L.A. What are the odds of all that happening?”
I shrug. “Slim to none. There wasn’t much to tell after New York. though,” I say. “I left the ball in her court, literally, and she never called me. Then she turns up here, going after the same company as Si and me. You should see her though. She’s a force in that negotiation room.”
I shake my head, recalling every detail of her arguments yesterday.
The way she stood up in front of the room, her white blouse barely hiding the nude bra underneath, tucking her hair behind her ears, long nails brushing stray bangs back from her eyes, and how she licked her lip, biting the bottom one between her teeth between each important point she made, darting her eyes at me each time.
I remember every detail of her speech, except the words coming out of her mouth.
Lila had to give me a summary of it an hour later when we took a quick lunch break together.
“Having her in that negotiation room is killing me, man. I feel like an idiot for putting her off another week. The tension between us is like a fucking volcano. I feel like I might need to meet up with her just to be able to concentrate on the rest of what we need to do.”
“What’s her deal, anyhow?” Rye asks, pulling his foot up behind his thigh to stretch out his quads. “I always liked her. You know that. I was hoping things would work out after you two graduated.”
“I tried,” I remind him. “She ran. Then, after New York—”
“She ran again,” he says, finishing my sentence. “Are you expecting anything different this time?”
I shift my stance to brace my toes up against a guard rail and straighten my leg, stretching the back of my calf out. The slight cramp is disappearing, thankfully.
“I told you, I’m not really looking for meaningless hookups with women anymore,” I say. It might sound stupid to say that out loud to certain guys, but I know that if anyone will get it, it’s going to be Ryeson.