Cecily Fragrance was the last thing I wanted to worry about. None of our investments meant anything if Frederick was running the show.
“They want to retain equity. In fact, I think they just want us to play banker—replace the loans at a better rate and let them run the business.” John took a seat in his normal chair opposite my desk.
“That’s not what we do. We add value by taking management decisions.”
“Err, yes. Thank you for reminding me,” I said.
“But did you remind them?”
“No, I forgot.” The sarcasm was running thick through my veins today. Did he think I was an idiot? “Jesus, what’s the matter with you?”
“Calm down, Captain Temper. What the fuck has put you in such a shitty mood? Did your doctor just call to say you have herpes?”
“Fuck off. I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit today.”
John and I didn’t argue. We joked around a lot but there was rarely an edge. Apparently, today was different. “Sorry. I’ve just got some family shit going on.” I wasn’t about to tell him he might be soon out of a job. And frankly, so might I. I would tell him when I had a solution. For once, this was a problem he wasn’t going to be able to help me solve.
“Hey, man. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I don’t want to get out my knitting and talk about my feelings.” I needed to forget about Cecily Fragrance and concentrate on Frederick inheriting the estate. “I need to work some shit out.”
I’d go to the gym. Clear my head. Sex hadn’t worked, maybe exercise would.
“Okay, let me know what I can do. We could always up our offer on Cecily Fragrance. You know we’ve been holding back a little.”
I shook my head. “Money isn’t going to do it for them.” They knew we’d offered a fair price. John might take longer to realize. But it was clear to me that we weren’t going to be investors in Cecily Fragrance. It was as simple as that.
“There must be something we can do,” John said. “The figures look great on this business.”
I had to talk to him about the issues I was having in relation to Frederick and the Westbury Group. Perhaps he knew of a woman who might want to do a deal of a different kind with me. I needed someone who needed the money but not too much. Who didn’t mind being married but didn’t want to be married to me. Someone who looked like I might want to marry her if I was so inclined.
“You’re obviously trying to figure it out,” John said, getting to his feet when I didn’t reply. He couldn’t know that I was thinking about how to save my company, not how to take over Cecily Fragrance.
The two issues merged into one in my head like tea and hot water. In fact, perhaps that was a solution—combine both problems and find a solution for both Scarlett and the Westbury Group.
Seven
Ryder
I paced up in front of my desk, trying to work out a way of telling Scarlett my plan without scaring her off. I’d called her as soon as John had left my office yesterday. I’d told her nothing of my dilemma but the hope I heard in her voice relaxed me and gave me reason to think I could convince her to do something that would work for us both.
My desk phone buzzed.
“I have Scarlett King in reception for you,” my assistant said as I answered.
About time.
“Show her in,” I replied.
I slipped my jacket on just before Scarlett entered my office.
“Scarlett, how nice to see you again.”
She frowned and I indicated the two gray couches opposite each other. She was clearly suspicious about this meeting. She’d tried to get me to reveal more on the phone but I’d refused. I’d never had a conversation about marriage but I was pretty sure they were best done face-to-face.
She was dressed in black—her hair disappearing into the fabric of her dress. She wore a large silver cuff on her left hand and hadn’t brought any kind of bag or notebook in with her.
She took a seat and I sat opposite her, clearing the latest copies of Forbes, the Economist and Rolling Stone from the coffee table that separated us. My assistant would be in with tea in a matter of seconds.
“Thank you for seeing me. I know you must be busy,” I said, and she pulled the fabric of her skirt down and tucked it under her legs.
“You said you had a possible solution to our impasse,” she said. I’d forgotten how sexy she was. How she carried herself in such a confident way. It had been a complete thrill when she’d undressed and opened her legs when I’d instructed her to. I hadn’t expected her compliance, but I’d hoped. I found the most challenging, clever women—the women who ate men alive in the boardroom—were the most pliant in the bedroom. As if they were desperate to give up some of the power they wielded during the day, wanted to take the pressure off and have someone else to decide how they would get their pleasure at night. Scarlett had been no different—she’d just been better than all the rest.
I needed to control the blood flow to my dick.
“Thank you,” I said to my assistant, grateful she’d arrived with tea.
She nodded and left the two of us together.
I reached for the teapot. Put the strainer over the cup farthest away from me and poured a cup for Scarlett.
“I don’t drink tea,” she said.
“You’ll like this. It’s good for the mornings.” In the morning I always had fresh lemongrass. Lapsang Souchong I saved for the afternoons and never served to guests. It was too much for most people to handle.
“I don’t drink tea,” she repeated.
I moved the strainer to my cup and poured. I glanced up to find her watching me.
I set down the teapot, took my saucer and sat back.
She stared back, waiting for me to speak. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes flickered from my mouth to my eyes.
“Drink the tea, Scarlett. You’ll enjoy it.”
She shook her head as if she was coming out of a daze. “I don’t want the tea.”
She was so determined not to follow my wishes it made the thought of her naked, her knees forced apart with the palms of her hands all the more entrancing. She was so different here in my office. “Fine. I want to hear more about what Cecily Fragrance means to you.” I needed her to be in the right headspace when she heard my offer. If she had at the front of her mind how important her business was, I hoped that would make her more likely to accept.
She leaned forward, the fingers of one hand curling over the other and resting on her knees, just a few inches from where she’d pulled her legs apart. I took a sip of my tea, in an effort to distract myself from the images flashing in front of me.
“Because you’re thinking of changing your mind?”