One year earlier
“Not every woman enjoys climbing the corporate ladder.” It’s the last bit of good, wholesome sisterly advice I can give Jaclyn face-to-face, at least for a while. I need to make it count. “Don’t forget to take time away from empire-building. Maybe climb a guy.”
Out of nowhere, she wraps an arm around me, pulling close to lean that head of ass-length hair against my shoulder. The squeeze of her side hug does something to me.
Perusing the giant menu board at the downtown Dallas Starbucks, I keep my gaze high on the words I’ve seen a million times, intent on holding back the stubborn tear that wants to break free.
“Not finding anything?” Jaclyn asks, not bothering to actually place an order. With her daily need for high-octane caffeine, an unoriginal order of cappuccino with almond milk is already in her hand. The barista must have seen her coming.
I glance around, taking a quick inventory of the patrons of the nearly empty coffee shop. A rushed woman heads out with a newspaper, leaving only one other customer—an attractive man buried behind his laptop with a set of wireless earbuds in his ears. I tear my gaze away before I lose another wasteful second staring at him and pining for a life I’ve put on pause.
“I just can’t decide,” I say, letting my words trail off.
My salacious tone is enough to force Jaclyn’s hand over her face, smacking her smile to mask it. She already knows where I’m going with this.
“Please don’t embarrass me,” she whispers. “I’m in here every day.”
“Exactly. I promise that once I’m gone, you’ll remember me every single time you return.”
Encouraged, I watch the manager move behind the register, her fingers ready to punch in my order as she greets me with an attentive smile.
Grateful for an aproned barista who’s at least old enough to know what a cassette tape is, I’m eager to bypass the pretense of a PG scene and stamp my order Rated R.
With a seriously cocked brow, I tap a finger to my lips. “I’m not exactly sure what I want. Perhaps you can suggest something. I’d like something big,” I say, drawing out the word while my hands stroke the air suggestively, demonstrating the cup size desired with a distinct telescoping motion.
“Obviously,” the woman says, laughing in agreement and diving right into the deep end of an order for Starbucks—After Dark. Her wide grin shows off the bright lipstick of a woman who puts herself together well before the crack of dawn. She’s probably dying for a morning laugh.
I notice her nametag, the unusual spelling accented by a star. “See? Aimee gets me.”
“Hell yeah, I do,” Aimee says with an enthusiastic nod.
“Yes, the biggest you’ve got.”
“Size matters,” Aimee says matter-of-factly with a wink.
“Have you got a size that I can handle with both hands?”
“For the love of God, Margot, they don’t do Big Gulps here,” Jaclyn says impatiently, keeping her eyes down as she scrolls feverishly through her phone with one hand. Despite her narrowed eyes, her untamed smile keeps me going.
“And I need something creamy. And thick. Definitely thick and creamy.”
“You sound like a horny Rain Man.” By now, Jaclyn has set her drink down, freeing up her fingers to anxiously drum the countertop. My guess is she’s itching to get back to whatever semi-emergency is pulling her attention away.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her, bravely taking a daring sip of her coffee in the face of her unamused death glare. “Let me order my extra-big cup o’ cock, and we’ll head out.”
Startling me, a man clears his throat from right behind us, and Jaclyn and I both whirl around.
A tall man with his arms crossed gazes down at me. For anyone else, his closeness might be intimidating. But for me, he’s comfortably close, though I still have to crane my neck to look up at him. His height's impressive next to my petite frame, and my pulse races as I take all of him in.
His smile tilts just enough to give the pop of his brow a decidedly naughty look. And the tattoo peeking from beneath the short sleeve of his shirt fills me with curiosity. The gorgeous man is wearing a T-shirt unable to hide the carved muscles beneath its loose fit, and I feel myself gawking.
Where the hell were you twenty-four hours ago?
Trapped in the pull of desire that stirs between us, I fervently wish to God I had just one more night in Dallas.
“You know,” he says in a deep, panty-melting timbre. “Some of us are waiting to order our own cup o’ cock.”
With that, he shakes an empty cup at Jaclyn but keeps his darkening gaze on me, giving me a close look at his hazel eyes. His pupils dilate, but brilliant gold flecks surround them, wreaking havoc on my imaginings.
“Ahem.” Jaclyn huffs under her breath, swiftly yanking me from my tawdry thoughts and lingering stare.
Thank goodness. A second longer, and I’d be climbing the man like a redwood.
I turn back to Aimee. “I’d love a venti frap. Salty.”
“Salted caramel,” Jaclyn says, elbowing me in the exact same spot she always manages to hit.
“Ow.” I wince, wondering when I’m ever going to learn to jerk away when her swift elbow aims for my ribs. Rubbing my side, I say, “Yes. Make sure it’s absolutely dripping with caramel. Thick ropes of salty caramel,” I sing naughtily as Jaclyn drops her face into her palm.
“No cream to lick off?” the man asks, damn near tempting me to lick him off.
I’d literally give a kidney—or a Maserati—for just an hour with this gorgeous hunk of man before crossing the threshold into celibacy.
I’m about to answer when Jaclyn interrupts, tossing a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.
“Seriously, I need to get back to work.” Wildly pointing to each of us, she channels Oprah in a wholly inappropriate way. “Drinks are on me. You get a cock, and you get a cock. Aimee, the rest is your tip for putting up with these eighth graders.”
* * *
Later that day, I sit in a comfy leather chair across from my challenger’s desk and stare him down with a practiced glint and a sugary-sweet smile. In true Texas form, I know the best way to close business transactions is with honey.
“It’s the deal of the century,” I say evenly, masking my excitement. “We put up a handful of our underperforming subsidiaries as collateral and grab these companies on margin. When the transaction is done, whatever we’ve leveraged will be absorbed in the new holdings, and we keep the smaller companies that no one has gobbled up. It’s genius.”
“It’s risky,” my adversary says.
“Come on, Dad. If you do this right now, I’ll get to see the fruits of my evil plan and watch them come to life before I take off for Europe.”
Unconvinced, my father—Texas tycoon Everett Long—glares at me impatiently. “And why do you insist on running away every time you hatch a scheme?”
It’s a valid question. Jaclyn, the COO of Long Multinational and my remarkable half-sister, is the heir apparent to his throne at the helm of this multibillion-dollar empire. Not that I mind. If anything, I’m relieved to not be shackled to the business world Jaclyn so adores.
Jaclyn has always been in the position of being primed for greatness. She’s postured to become one of the most powerful—not to mention richest—CEOs in the world, which is perfect. Her hard-charging demeanor, laser focus on the bottom line, and genuine love of the company make her the perfect CEO-to-be.
My talents have another calling. Puppet-mastering from the sidelines is as lucrative as it gets and keeps me exactly where I want to be—in the lap of the luxury I enjoy, while free to do whatever the hell I want without concern for public scrutiny.
Europe is fun and guilt-free, and I can hopscotch across countries on a whim. Schussing the slopes of Switzerland one week, eating at my favorite chocolatier in Paris the next. With my pick of men, it’s been easy to stay unattached.
At least, until now.
“I like Europe,” I say. “And it gives me a little extra time with Wyatt.”
“Wyatt,” Dad says sadly.
Disappointment pours from him, stemming from having a son who’s always half a world away. Everyone misses Wyatt. But the life of the party couldn’t be caged in Dallas. My brother was born to fly free, becoming a world-renowned interior designer to whomever has the deepest pockets and the most interesting architecture.
His taste for extravagance and penchant to spend other people’s money work hand in hand. Which means most of his work is in Asia or Europe, with at least a few months a year in Dubai. Dallas is Wyatt’s stomping ground only for the holidays, when he shows off his latest smoking-hot boy toy, practically double-daring me to seduce him straight.
I do love Christmas.
“Why don’t I go with you?” Dad asks. “Just for a week? Jaclyn can hold down the fort.”
I force a small smile. “It’ll be hard enough to do this. Honestly, I’m not sure I could with you watching.”
Dad nods, his eyes filled with understanding as well as sadness. “Now,” he says in a firm voice, refocusing us both, “walk me through this play again.”
I smile widely, filled with excitement. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a maybe,” he says, taunting me with his hesitation.
“Oh, come on.”
“Fine.” He huffs, smiling through feigned irritation. “We’ll do your play. But without Steele Holdings.”
“If you say so,” I say slowly. “Though it’s not exactly the picture of profitability. Sentimental value?”
Dad dons a scowl normally reserved for several rounds of ball-busting negotiations, and I take the hint.
“Agreed. No Steele Holdings,” I say, rolling my eyes as if I’d given in reluctantly. With a wide grin, I square my shoulders decidedly. “I won’t need it. Oh, and if this works—and it will—I get five percent of your first-quarter profits.”
Dad frowns. “What are you, my manager?”
“Keep it up and it’ll be ten percent, mister. Besides, this is a fifty-million-dollar deal at the low end, and a hundred million at the high end. I think you can spare a measly five percent when your bottom line is about to go through the roof. And it’ll all settle right before the quarterly earnings report to shareholders.”
Without another word, he presses a button on his space-age desk phone.
In half a ring, the call is answered. “Hey, Dad.” Jaclyn says distractedly, obviously focusing on some mundane business task that’s taking up most of her brain cells.
With a small wink to Margot, Everett stays businesslike to Jaclyn. “Can you drop by?”
“Um . . .” Jaclyn’s stall is undoubtedly to give her a moment to shuffle her calendar around on the spot.
“Only if it’s convenient,” Dad says, giving me a wink. “Your sister has an idea to make us tens of millions overnight, and—”
“I’ll be right there.”