No and run away. I clench my jaw and wait for him to expound.
“Assistant to the CEO,” he continues in that evil robot voice. “Double whatever pay and benefits Blackthroat is giving you now.”
I raise my brows. “Double?” I echo. I once took a negotiating class, and the teacher drilled two basic skills into us over and over. Either keep silent or repeat the last thing the person on the other side of the table says.
“To start. You obviously have valuable skills and experience. It would take very little training for you to get up to speed. On the Benson deal, for example.”
I nod slowly, pretending to think things over. “Thank you for your offer. I’m flattered that you took the time to corner me in a dark alley to give it to me, but I must respectfully decline.” There, just enough sarcasm to get the point across. I pivot away and continue walking as fast as I can without spilling my dinner. The beefy bodyguard looms in front of me, blocking my way, but if I’m fast, I can swing my take-out bag, give him a face full of eggplant lasagna, and hope the surprise gives me enough time to slip past.
“Come back, Madison,” Aiden calls.
I have no intention of obeying, but something in his voice makes me stop and turn. It’s like my body doesn’t belong to my own mind.
“How much does he pay you?”
I hate that I’m walking back to him. I don’t even know why I’m doing it. “That’s none of your business, is it, Mr. Adalwulf?”
His lips twitch, like he finds my rudeness amusing. “I’ll double it.”
“I’m happy with my current arrangement.”
“I’ll bet you are.” His eyes glitter silver under the streetlights. “How long have you been fucking your boss?”
I’ve been expecting someone to say it to me, but for some reason it still gets under my skin. I’m usually great with snappy comebacks, but nothing surfaces, so I whirl on my heel to truly leave this time.
“Madison, did he tell you his secret?”
I stop again. Dammit. There’s nothing more aggravating than a dangled puzzle to solve. “What secret?”
Aiden saunters toward me, his shined shoes clacking on the broken pavement, his long coat flapping open as he steps. I’m both repulsed and fascinated by the spectacle he makes. Even the shadows don’t hide the fact that he’s as handsome as Brick. Fair where Brick is dark. Slick and falsely-friendly where Brick is jagged-edged and surly.
“You don’t know?” His lips twist into a wicked smile. “Interesting. He doesn’t plan on keeping you, then.”
My heart thunders in my chest. What does he mean by that? I know this guy is fucking with me, but I can’t stand when I don’t understand what’s going on.
“Nobody’s keeping anybody,” I snap. “We’re human beings with free will.”
Aiden snorts. “Oh, sweetheart. You really have no clue.” He gives me a mock-sympathetic look, reaching out to touch my cheek with his gloved fingers.
I frown, trembling although I’m not sure what has me so riled up. Goosebumps raise on my arms. “Why are you here?” I demand as I try to piece together the conversation and his possible motives for coming.
He didn’t really think he’d lure me away with the promise of a higher wage, so what was his goal?
“Mm. I heard you were smart,” he says in a strange echo of what Jerry just said to me. “Not smart enough, though.”
The asshole steals my dramatic exit, by turning and striding back to his limo, impossibly graceful for such a large man.
Madi
Full confession-I’ve never even been inside Tiffany’s before. The Blue Box Cafe is as much an artistic experience as it is culinary, with a bright but luxurious setting. I have that nineties song “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” playing in my head-it’s another favorite oldie of Aubrey’s-as I walk in.
I have to fight the feeling of not belonging with every step I take. Good thing I’m adept at faking it. Perhaps it’s a test-Ms. Harrington wants to know if my table manners are good enough before she brings me into her fold.
I’m ushered to the older woman where she sits in a prime spot by a window. She stands when I approach. I extend my hand and she clasps it with both hands.
Weird.
“Madison. I love that you contacted me.”
A waiter appears to push in her chair when she sits back down.
He comes to mine, but I’m already sitting.
“Yes, thank you for seeing me.” I open my attache case and fish out the crisp resume I printed on a translucent vellum paper. I assume Torrent Cosmetics has a twenty-first century HR department where you upload all pertinent materials, but I’m guessing Ms. Harrington is old-school and likes to hold something in her hand while she interviews.
She takes the resume but doesn’t look at it.
“I should start by saying I’m not actively looking for a position at the moment. I just want to keep my options open in case things change where I am.”
Eleanor arches a manicured brow. “That’s an excellent negotiation tactic. Are you trying to work me, your present employer, or both?”
“Neither at the moment.” I’m unruffled by her attempt to call me out. “As I said, it’s purely networking.”
She nods, apparently liking my answer. “You seem quite bright.” She glances at my resume. “You graduated from Princeton with a perfect GPA and landed a position with a notoriously hard-to-work-for CEO.”
I incline my head. I’m feeling guiltier by the moment for being here. This was a mistake.
“Moreover, your current boss appeared annoyed when I attempted to poach you.”
“I’m flattered you even offered me your card.”
“I know potential when I see it.” She verbally pats herself on the back. “Tell me about yourself. Things I wouldn’t find on this resume.” She waves the paper in the air.
I hesitate. What is there to say? That paper contains the whole of what I would show to anyone who isn’t extremely close to me.
“At the moment, my work takes up most of my time, so I can’t say I have any interesting hobbies, unless you count beating my own record at how fast I can complete a New York Times crossword.”
Eleanor laughs, as if I’m particularly amusing. I’m honestly not used to interviewers being this warm and fuzzy.
The waiter stops by, and I order a salad for lunch. I need to keep this meeting short so Blackthroat doesn’t get annoyed.
“How do you find working on Wall Street? I wouldn’t have expected a sociology major to end up there.”
“No, I wasn’t planning on it, but the opportunity arose, and it seemed the sort of thing to do while I’m young.”
“You didn’t consider graduate studies?” She studies me with great curiosity.
It’s a strange line of questioning.
“I did, actually. I was accepted at Harvard and Yale” -I’m not above a good name-drop when I’m being interviewed by a Manhattan socialite- “but, I decided a change of pace was in order.”
“Aren’t you just a glorified secretary, now, though?”
I give her a professional, unruffled smile. “A very well-paid one.”
She sits back with a smug expression. “So it was about the money.”
I don’t let my irritation show. “The money and the challenge. You mentioned that my employer is notoriously difficult. I found that challenge appealing.”
A knowing smile spreads across Eleanor’s face. “And you succeeded in meeting the challenge, as you apparently have succeeded at everything you’ve tried.”
Ms. Harrington’s interview style is an interesting mix of jabs and compliments. I suppose she’s trying to keep me on my toes.
Our food comes, and I attend to it, trying to keep this lunch from drawing out any longer than it already has.
“What sort of position did you have in mind for me?” I ask, not because I’m actually considering it, but to turn the interview around, so I’m asking the questions.
“Something similar. Assistant to the CEO.” She puts her hand on her chest. “
Moi. I’ve been looking for a young protege I can mold in my image, and I think you might have the brains and grit to fill the position.”
I draw in a breath, somewhat taken aback.
What could I possibly offer that any other Ivy League graduate couldn’t? What is it about me that makes her believe I’m moldable to her image?
“Well…that’s extremely flattering. As I said, I’m not looking for a new position at present.”
“Yes. I imagine it’s quite exciting on Wall Street. But at Torrent Cosmetics, you’d be a part of it all-creative challenges, business negotiations, marketing a billion dollar empire. Surely that appeals to your sense of challenge.”
My heart beats erratically. The achiever in me is tempted by the position. Especially knowing things with Brick could blow up any day. But that fundamentally loyal part of me refuses to walk away.
Not until things actually do implode.
He’s become something integral to my identity and purpose. I need to see this thing out with him, whatever it is.
“Is this a limited-time offer, or would you be open to me contacting you in the future when my situation changes?”
The older woman appears slightly disappointed but not surprised. “Contact me any time, Madison. I’m interested in you. I’d like to see you at Harrington now or in the future.”
Color me surprised. It’s an unheard-of opportunity. I’m used to working hard for things, not having them dropped in my lap. Apparently my position with Blackthroat has raised my social status more than I realized.
“Thank you so much for your offer-and for lunch.” I wipe my mouth, set down my napkin and stand. “I do need to get back to work, but I appreciate your time and consideration.”
“Stay in touch, Madison.”
I walk out, feeling more confused and guilty than I was walking in. Am I really turning down the opportunity of a lifetime to stay in a situation I know will end up crushing me emotionally if not professionally?
Yes, I am. Because even though I know I’m racing toward a cliff’s edge, nothing would stop me so long as Brick Blackthroat is involved.
* * *
Brick
Madison left the building for a lunch appointment. I’m already edgy as hell because she seemed cagey about where she was going, but when she comes into my office smelling like Eleanor Harrington, my wolf rages.
Those damn high society humans. We mix with people like the Harringtons at our charity events. We’ll take their money, we’ll manage their investments, but they are nothing like us.
I’m not pissed at Madison. Scratch that. I definitely am, but my wolf isn’t. My wolf wants to protect her.
Sully believes she is, most likely, the unacknowledged daughter of Brett Harrington, Eleanor’s son. It’s not clear whether he knows he has a daughter and wants nothing to do with her or whether he’s been in the dark the entire time.
What is clear is that Eleanor anonymously paid for Madison’s prep school education and made phone calls that ensured her entry into Princeton with a generous financial aid package. I gauge Madison’s mood. She doesn’t seem shaken up or disturbed now, not like she would if she’d just learned the old lady’s secret.
“I’m sure you remember the company holiday ball is tonight.” She’s in a sweater dress with cutout shoulders and a peek-a-boob chest. I already had her up against the window this morning, but I’m feeling territorial, and that makes me desperate to get inside her again.
“Yes.” I purposely direct my attention at my computer because I’m not fully in control at the moment. My wolf needs to tone it the fuck down.
“I have to be there early, but we need you there by seven or eight to formally greet everyone.”
“We’ll drive over together,” I clip, still not looking her way.
“I have to be there by five-thirty to make sure everything is running smoothly.”
Now I give her my full attention, and it’s with the air of a reprimand. “When I gave you the task of liaising with HR for the party, it was not for you to run it. It was for you to represent me and my interests. You’re not their staff; you’re mine. So you’ll go when I go.”
My wolf is disgruntled by the lie. She’s not mine. Not the way he needs her to be.
She hesitates for a beat. “You’re the boss.”
“Big Bad Boss,” I mutter as she turns to sail away.
“Madison.” I catch her before she reaches the door, my tone business-like.
She pivots. “Yes, sir?” She still plays subordinate seamlessly which tells me what I always suspected-that it’s been an act and a game from the very start. I never had her respect, nor her fear.
Why do I love that so much?
“With whom did you have lunch?”
She hesitates a second before tossing back, “Why do you ask?”
“Answer the question.”
She must hear I’m not fooling around, but she still cocks a hip. “Am I not allowed to take a lunch break?”
I don’t answer. Don’t release her from my gaze. But I should remember that Madison has negotiation skills that far exceed her age or station. She simply lifts a brow, staring right back.
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