Suddenly burning amber eyes pierced into hers. Tristan’s lips pressed together in a thin line of disapproval. “You giving us an ultimatum?”
She met his gaze head-on, refusing to flinch. Refusing to back down. “I’m giving you a proposal. A smart one. And I’ll be waiting for your decision. Adam wants to move quickly on this, so I’d like to be able to get back to him.”
“Fair enough.” Cal rose to his feet. “Give us some time to discuss. We’ll have an answer for you soon.”
She smiled. “I appreciate it.” Scooping up her laptop and empty coffee mug, she walked out of the conference room with her head held high.
She’d done it. Whatever happened next, she’d made her pitch and fought for what she deserved, for both her and Becca. After all these years in the background, she finally had her chance.
She intended to take it.
chapter two
Tristan stared at the stack of papers in front of him, neatly typed out, with impressive charts, graphs, and cost analyses. She’d handled herself like a true professional, reflecting a calm demeanor during his questions and delivering an adept presentation of exactly why she should be promoted to CFO.
Too bad she still pissed him off.
“Well, that was interesting,” Dalton commented, finishing off his third jelly doughnut. “I had no idea Sydney wanted to move up. She always seemed pretty happy with her duties.”
Cal leaned back in his chair. “I’m not surprised. Been waiting for this awhile now. Guess she was finally ready.”
Tristan regarded his brother from across the table. “You knew about this deal she concocted with Cushman?” he asked. “A deal she deliberately worked on behind my back?”
One bushy brow shot up. “No, I didn’t know about Cushman, but you gotta give her credit. We certainly weren’t pursuing the opportunity. Because she put herself out there and followed through, we may gain a lucrative contract.”
“I can’t believe you knew she was going for a promotion and you never told us,” Tristan muttered. “You may be president, Cal, but we’re all equal members at this table.”
Cal cocked his head. “Damn, bro, why are you so pissed? I didn’t know she wanted to be CFO, but I knew she’s been working for this company for years, ran the office from the ground up, and is probably getting bored with her job. She’s smart and ambitious. Why shouldn’t she go for CFO?”
“She’s definitely qualified,” Brady offered. “To be honest, not one of us has ever competently pitched our projects in this manner. I think we’d be smart to vote her in.”
“Agreed,” Dalton said. “Cushman is just an extra benefit. Letting her lead on this job will allow her to spread her wings a bit. She’s always been great with figures, but there’s a creative vision she never gets to follow through on. This will do it.”
Irritation spiked through Tristan. The worst part was he wasn’t sure why. But Sydney had always irritated him, whether it had been as a young girl following him around with those sweet, longing glances or as a mouthy teen with a body that had filled out with luscious curves and tempted him at every turn.
It certainly didn’t help how she’d only blossomed with age. She walked with the power of a woman who knew how to get what she wanted, perfectly demonstrated by today’s meeting. Her strawberry-colored hair now hung halfway down her back, still curly and wild as ever, like silk trapped in fire. She liked to wear it up now, shoving those strands into a neat chignon. Her face had always been a bit too round, her mouth and eyes a bit too wide, and she’d always despised the scattering of freckles across her nose and dotted generously over her white skin. He hated those black-framed glasses that hid her jade-green eyes and gave him fantasies about sexy librarians. Her wardrobe drove him slightly mad, with her tight designer suits, short skirts, and sexy high heels. She’d never been petite or small boned—no, her body was all Eve, lush and ripe like the apple that tempted her. In New York, he’d had a hard time meeting a woman over a size 6. Their makeup was always flawless, they regularly attended blow-out salons to kill any curls, and they were all vegetarians who believed in saving the earth. They never looked at him with adoration and always paid their own check and would instruct the bartender exactly how to make their Skinnygirl martini.
No, much easier to concentrate on the way she treated him like a bug she’d rather squash or her refusal to talk to him during Sunday dinners at the mansion or the cool tone of her throaty voice when she answered his demands, like he was slightly brain damaged.
Much easier to remember the depth of her betrayal.
If he concentrated on that truth, it was easier to ignore the persistent electricity crackling between them and the low thrum of arousal beating through each cold, deliberate word spoken.
Just lingering stuff from the past, he told himself. They worked better together when they avoided each other and stayed in their private corners.
But now she was challenging the corner he’d put her in.
“Listen, I’m not saying Sydney’s not competent at her job,” he said steadily. “But she’s never headed a project with flipped properties, renovation, and design. I’ve always been the one in charge, and I don’t like that ultimatum she threw out at us. She has no right.”
Dalton shrugged. “You would’ve done it,” he pointed out. “It’s good business. Offer something we want and present the hook to get it. Would’ve thought you’d admire her moves.”
“It’s different,” he gritted out.
“How?” Cal asked.
He clenched his fists under the table. Frustration rippled through him. “She tricked us. Plus, if she fails, we lose Cushman for future projects and put ourselves in a serious financial hole. It’s too risky.”
“I don’t think so,” Cal said. “She’ll have to be lead, but it’s critical you work with her at every step. That will confirm our success.”
He refused to acknowledge the slight trickle of panic threatening. “I’m too busy to babysit. I have my own shit going on.”
“Like what?” Dalton asked. “You said in another week you’d be clear. Did you take something else on?”
He tamped down the urge to pound on his brother. “I was planning on investigating some houses outside of town.” The vague explanation only made it more obvious he was full of crap. Dalton and Caleb shared a knowing look.
“Why are you so against this?” Cal demanded. “Don’t you think she’s earned CFO? Or is your problem personal?”