I glanced at the time on my phone. It was after seven. I was the only one still at the office, and working my way through financial projections for my project in the event the bill didn’t pass. It wasn’t a good situation. Without this bill passed, we’d barely break even the first year. And for Titan Industries, that was unacceptable.
The last thing I wanted to be was one of those CEOs who indulged themselves with pet projects that wouldn’t add to the bottom line. Granted, this was my company and I had no shareholders to make happy, but it still grated. I’d come this far, made billions of dollars worth of decisions, and if this project had absolutely no emotional significance and were brought to me by anyone else, I’d tell them to show me the business case and move on.
But I couldn’t do that with this project. It was mine, and I had even more on the line here than the billions I would make if the damn politicians could pull the strings I needed.
Why? Because it was the same technology my father and I had argued about the day we’d climbed Zugspitze in Germany. Only one of us had come off that mountain breathing—and I’d come off it a killer.
He’d sworn I was wasting my time, that it would never work. But even now I was determined to prove he was wrong, that not only was my technology good, but it was marketable and valuable. I was valuable.
I gathered up the documents in front of me and slid them back into the file. I might as well get in a swim before Yve showed up, because I doubted I’d be able to talk her into one. I guess we’d see. It was hell on a man’s ego that the last two women I’d pursued essentially wanted nothing to do with me.
My father’s voice rose again in my head. Because you’re worthless. Always chasing the wrong things.
Whatever his voice said, I did the opposite. So that meant I’d chase harder.
Yve fascinated me. She was nothing like the socialites I should be courting, but they’d simper and fawn and never tell me the truth about any damn thing. At least, not until they’d gotten a ring on their finger.
Yve didn’t hold back, and for some reason her no-bullshit brand of honesty didn’t push the buttons my father had found so easily. No, she kept me on my toes, and she also kept coming back, which told me she couldn’t help the fact that she wanted me.
So I’d make her want me more.
THE GATE SWUNG OPEN BEFORE I touched it.
Obviously he knew I was coming. After all, I was the one who’d set the time and place, because this was my game.
About an hour ago, he’d responded to my text with one of his own.
I’ll come get you.
I’d simply replied, No, then hopped the streetcar to the closest stop and walked the rest of the way. Titan didn’t seem like he belonged in the Garden District; he belonged in some fancy penthouse condo overlooking the Mississippi. But I couldn’t disagree that I liked his digs here. I slipped inside the gate, shut it behind me, and made my way to the house.
I wondered if Jerome would be here, or if Titan would have sent him off somewhere for the night. I hoped the latter was true, not because I didn’t like the old man, but I didn’t want him to overhear the screaming I hoped I’d be doing.
Why am I even here? It wasn’t something I wanted to question too closely. I didn’t like examining my motivations. I told myself it was simply because Titan scratched my itch in a way that no one had before. He was also the least likely person to ever want to complicate things. I gave this thing between us one more night—two, max—and then I’d never see him again. I ignored the pang of regret that followed that thought.
The front door opened, and Titan stood there wearing only athletic shorts and a white T-shirt. His hair was wet and his feet were bare.
How was that fair?
I’d purposefully dressed more casually than I normally would have, but nothing like I had when we were moving furniture. I wore a simple cotton dress, magenta with a navy blue chevron pattern. My hair was up and out of the way because I still had the claw-foot tub in mind. It seemed too intimate, though, as if it was a place people made love instead of whatever it was we were doing. But I still couldn’t shake the idea. I’d just play this one by ear.
“Yve.”
“Titan.”
See, our greetings were even those of strangers. We weren’t intimate. This was just sex.
“Are you going to stand there, or are you coming in?”
He held the door open wider, and I stepped inside. When he shut it behind me, I froze, my plans suddenly deserting me. How was tonight going to go? My heart thudded in my chest as nerves took center stage.
What is wrong with me?
He must have sensed that something was off, or maybe not, but he asked, “How about a drink?”
“Yeah. Sounds good. Whatever fancy Scotch you’ve got would probably go down smoothly.”
“Then I believe you know the way.”