Boardroom Sins

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“What did you see?” Brett narrowed his eyes.

Alana’s widened. “What did you do?”

Brett took in the amused but concerned faces of his friends. “It was nothing. But something came to me. I’ve got an idea.” He turned to Alex. “You know how we were talking about taking Collins/Fischer to the next level?”

Alex eyed him, his stance wary. “Yeah, what do you have in mind?”

“We’re going to be number one. And we’re going to do that by dismantling the competition.”

“Okay... How?”

“A takeover. I want us to buy out Daniels International.” He let it sink in, aware of the curious and cautious way his friends eyed him.

“What?” Alex asked him.

“What aren’t you getting here? They’re a real estate development firm,” Brett said. “So is Collins/Fischer. We’ll initiate a takeover. Buy them out. When we’re successful in taking them out, we’ll move on to the next one, then the next one, until we’re the only game in town.”

None of his friends looked convinced. They were silent until Alana spoke up first. “Why?” she asked.

He thought about his answer. He’d been looking for a project, the next business move. He’d always been in this for the long game—to be the only real estate firm in town. He’d been at battle with Daniels International for months, and the company’s profits had been declining for years, partly because of stiff competition from Collins/Fischer. Why not start there? It was a logical procession. But he would be lying if he didn’t admit that there was more to it. His lips pulled downward in a frown, and he let the flames of animosity fuel him. “Now’s the time,” he started. “We’re on the verge of being on top of this city. And isn’t that what we want? Our goal has always been to run this bitch,” he reminded them. “A buyout. We’ll get as many shares as we can.” He looked at Gabe, an equal business partner in The Brotherhood’s operations but also the group’s lawyer. “Think we can get the paperwork by Monday morning?”

Brett hadn’t even finished his sentence before Gabe had his phone in his hands, most likely writing a message to his assistant to start the work. “By 9:00 a.m.,” he promised before looking up.

Alex also had his phone out, clearly engaged in getting a takeover bid in order for Monday. He and Alex had worked together, known each other long enough to trust each other fully. All Alex needed was to know Brett thought it was a good idea, a good move for the business, and he was on board. Only Alana eyed him skeptically.

“What?” he asked her.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. We’re just planning what’s next for the businesses.”

“But it’s Rebecca,” Alana reminded him. “She was my friend in college, and I spent as much time with her as I did you. You guys have this weird history. I know how you are together.”

“How we were together,” Brett corrected. “And Rebecca was nothing more than a hookup.” When she eyed him skeptically, he amended his statement. “A hookup nemesis?”

“Who is this person?” Gabe asked, putting his phone back in his pocket. He hadn’t gone to the same college as they had, having attended Harvard Law, and he hadn’t heard the story. “Old girlfriend?”

“No,” Brett said, definitive.

“She was in our undergrad and MBA programs,” Alana explained. “She’s so smart and just as stubborn as Brett, so you know they zeroed in on each other. They rivaled each other to be top of the class in every course. They competed for the best grades and for awards, but despite all the fighting and scornful looks, they hooked up all the time. I don’t quite know how it happened, though.”

Brett sighed. He knew that Alana and Rebecca had been friends, but he didn’t realize that she’d been privy to all of the dirty details. Well, not all of them, apparently—she didn’t know how it’d all started. One late night in the library before finals, they’d fought over the last private study room in the business library. But the fight hadn’t lasted long before they’d agreed to share it. It had been only a matter of time before he had her lying on the small table of a study room, with his palm over her mouth to keep her from screaming out into the silence of the library, visible to anyone who walked by through the small window in the door.

From then on, they’d still challenged each other, in class and outside, but they couldn’t stop themselves from giving in to their desires and enjoying private moments in public and semipublic spaces around campus. And that had gone on throughout their MBA program until she’d gone off to New York. “It doesn’t matter how it happened.”

“Okay, then how is she going to react when she sees the takeover bid on her desk on Monday morning?” Alana asked.

Brett didn’t want to admit to his friends how much seeing her again had affected him, and how much his own reaction had surprised him. He had to fight the discombobulation that had come from being near her tonight, and even though he could still smell her on his fingers, taste her kiss on his lips, he’d immediately shifted back into business mode. Survival mode. When it came to work, he could overcome any feelings to focus on the business. He’d done it before, and he was goddamn sure he could do it again.

But he smiled, trying to appear more confident in his resolve than he felt. “It doesn’t matter how she reacts,” he told her. “It’s business.”

CHAPTER THREE (#ud6227878-2c2a-58c1-bd92-a529721aa991)

YAWNING, REBECCA SAT back in her father’s—no, her—chair, and picked up the take-out paper cup that had contained four full shots of espresso only ten minutes ago. She’d taken a sip. It hadn’t been enough. She’d needed more, and she gulped it down, completely draining the cup. The fear that she may need to go back to the lobby café was real. The coffee had done nothing to keep her awake, and she didn’t think there was any amount of caffeine or makeup that would make her look or feel like a human being this morning. She hadn’t slept in two nights, not since Mayor Thompson’s party, and it was all Brett Collins’s fault.

With a sigh, she dramatically threw her head back and swiveled around in her chair to face the back wall as she remembered how it felt to have him kiss her, touch her again. She’d gone five years not being with him. And she thought she’d rid herself of that ghost, but no. Just one word, one touch, one kiss, a mind-altering orgasm against Mayor Thompson’s terrace wall was enough to bring back the college-aged girl who had made a mistake... Hell, dozens—hundreds—of mistakes because of some weak, hormone-crazed moments during her academic career. Times when she’d hated the man in front of her, but she couldn’t help herself and had bent to his every desire, and bent him to hers.

She touched her fingertips to her lips, and they still burned with the feel of his mouth on hers. She’d spent half a decade trying to banish him and his devilish hands and wicked kisses from her mind, and she thought she’d been successful. Yet there was no way to quell the feeling that she wanted nothing more than to take the night further. But part of her still held back. Pushing him away had been the right thing to do, even though her body had screamed at her to comply.

She huffed out a frustrated breath. One moment of weakness had made it all come back at her like a backdraft in a fire. She burned for him, needed him, craved his lips, his fingers, the bulge of his cock that she’d felt pressed against her belly, as he held her close, his hands bringing her to a shattering orgasm. She gripped the arms of her leather chair and she clenched her thighs together. He’d been an amazing lover. They’d learned everything, experimented together, and she didn’t think she would survive being with him when he had five more years of experience literally under his belt.

A knock on her door startled her, and she whipped around in her chair to face it.

“Come in,” she called, not sure if her legs were sturdy enough to stand.

Her assistant, Amy, walked into her office, holding a stack of envelopes. “I’ve got your mail here, and a courier just dropped this off.” she said, holding up an envelope.

“Thanks so much,” she said, accepting it with a tired smile.

“You doing okay, hon?”

“I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Need some more coffee? I was just about to head down to get some for myself.”

Rebecca smiled. “That’d be great. Thanks!” When she was alone in her office, Rebecca tackled the large stack of mail on her desk. There were some invites to corporate functions, some junk mail, but it was the envelope that had been couriered, which bore a return-address label for Collins/Fischer, that caught her attention. Using her letter opener, she sliced open the envelope.

Her mouth dropped when she read the letter enclosed, and she knew that it had also gone out to the rest of the shareholders at Daniels International. It was a takeover bid. Brett was initiating a hostile takeover of her father’s company.

Shock and rage made her fingers curl over the paper, crumpling the edges. She pushed away from her desk and stood. She couldn’t let Brett get away with what he wanted to do to her company, the one her father had worked his ass off to build. She’d told them that Daniels International was done playing games with him and Collins/Fischer. She slammed her fist down on her desk, unable to staunch the curse words that flowed past her lips.

He’d been irritating her for weeks. Now she was angry.

* * *

Brett and Alex sat in Brett’s office on the top floor of the BH, the office building that was owned by The Brotherhood. Their mugs of coffee had long since cooled as the two of them discussed the next move in the takeover of Daniels International. They were pleased. Things had moved quickly already, and he had his amazing partners and their teams to thank for it. He and Alex had settled on a very generous offer for DI’s shareholders. They’d been willing to go far enough above market price so that the shareholders wouldn’t be able to refuse, and they’d already been contacted by quite a few of them. It would be only a matter of time before Daniels International fell under the umbrella of The Brotherhood, and they would then move on to dismantling the next, and then the next, until Collins/Fischer was the only firm in town. They were on a mission, and once they were on track, they wouldn’t be deterred. At least, if he kept telling himself that, he might be able to convince himself that was the only reason he was doing this.

Although Brett had told his secretary he didn’t want to be interrupted, she buzzed through on the intercom. “Mr. Collins,” she started, “I have Rebecca Daniels on line one. She says it’s urgent.”

Brett grinned and looked at Alex. She would have gotten her mail and their tender offer already. He couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say, and part of him wanted to hear her beg him to spare her company. “Put her through,” Brett responded. He kept the phone on speaker as the call was patched through.

“Rebecca, hi—”

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded over the intercom, interrupting him.

“Rebecca, please calm down,” Brett said in an attempt at placating her.

“Please, go fuck yourself!” she retorted. Brett and Alex both widened their eyes in surprise at the vitriol in her words, but she wasn’t done. “So what’s your plan here? You make me come and then take over my business?” Brett shot a quick look at Alex, who raised an eyebrow, trying to hide his smile. He didn’t try that hard. His friend was clearly enjoying the show.

Brett reached out to pick up the phone receiver, to allow them a little privacy, but Alex swatted his hand away from it. He wanted to keep listening. “It’s just business, Rebecca,” Brett said. “It’s not personal. It’s a strategic move for our own company. This sort of thing isn’t unheard of.” He stood, unsure of why he was putting space between him and her voice on the intercom.

“This is plenty personal,” she said, her voice cold. “But you know what, don’t bother explaining any further. You should hear this, though. There is no way in hell you’ll get your fingers on any part of my father’s company, or me, again. Have a nice day,” she said before the phone call disconnected.

“Well,” Alex said with a smirk. “She certainly hates your guts. Interesting.” He sat back, suddenly serious. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really behind this takeover? There is some personal shit here, isn’t there?”

Brett returned to his desk and sat down. He clenched his fists and hoped that Alex didn’t see the tremble in them. He was angry. Angry she still had the power to affect him, like she had years earlier. Sure, the past few months had been interesting—invigorating even—to have his former rival back in town pushing his buttons. But if their encounter the other night had told him anything, it was that she was a distraction big enough to throw him off course—and Brett had come too far and worked too hard to let that happen. He’d created a life for himself around specific things: his work, his business goals with The Brotherhood, staying fit, keeping up with his parents... There was no room for anything else. Certainly not for Rebecca Daniels, one of the few people who made him feel vulnerable and exposed—or at least she had once in college. He couldn’t let it happen a second time. “There’s nothing to tell,” he told his friend.

“And what about that part about making her come?”

“Would you believe me if I called it female hysterics?”

Alex guffawed. “I definitely would not.”

Brett sighed and sat back in his chair. “Okay, we had a bit of a moment at the party the other night. But business has nothing to do with that. Sure, the idea of a takeover occurred to me somewhat spontaneously. The plan started forming in my head when she left. But I know what I’m doing here. It’s business as usual, regardless of anything that Rebecca and I had.”

Alex looked unconvinced. “Jesus Christ, man. We’ve initiated a multimillion-dollar takeover to get back at a girl you used to hook up with in college? Who just happens to be sitting at the CEO’s desk?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then tell me, what is it? Do you want to start seeing her again? Because if you do, this is one hell of a way to get her attention.”

Brett’s blood burned in his veins. White-hot. “No. I’m definitely not looking to start seeing her.” Although he did extend an invitation for her to visit him at the club. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he was looking forward to seeing her there.

Brett was a man who didn’t deal in feelings. And as anger, ambition and desire all raged within him, he had no idea which would be victorious. He just knew that her appearance threw something inside him completely off-kilter and he needed her gone again. If there was nothing keeping her in Vegas, she would surely leave. Getting rid of Daniels International would send her packing back to New York or anywhere else. He didn’t really care.

Using every ounce of strength, he reined in his emotions, holding them back with a firm hand. “The timing looks suspicious, I know. But I’ve had my eye on this type of thing for a while,” Brett lied easily to his friend, something he’d never done before. “This move is what’s right for us, and you know it. It’s part of our overall vision for The Brotherhood.”

Alex stood and faced him, challenging. His friend was a strong, imposing man, and he had a slight height advantage over Brett. “I just want all the information, before you put our business and our names—and The Brotherhood—on the line.”

“You have nothing to worry about. I know what I’m doing.”

CHAPTER FOUR (#ud6227878-2c2a-58c1-bd92-a529721aa991)

REBECCA SLAMMED DOWN the phone. “That shady motherfucker,” Rebecca said to her empty office, trying her damnedest to bite back a frustrated scream. She gripped the edges of her desk. If she possessed the physical strength, she would have flipped the heavy oak behemoth over on its side.

Her frustration built and she took deep breaths to stop the shaking in her hands. But it wasn’t successful. She thought about her father and the business he’d built and how she couldn’t let it fall under the command of Brett Collins. She thought about all of the power and influence Brett had in the city. With what Brett was offering the shareholders for their shares, she wondered how many would stick with DI. It was a near-hopeless situation. But it was up to her to save the company. She was on her own on this one.

“I could see him again,” she told herself. “Try to appeal to him.” And if she couldn’t talk him out of it altogether, she would let him know that she wasn’t going to take it lying down. If that didn’t work, at least, she could hope to get a little dirt on him and his friends. Rebecca wasn’t into blackmail, but she wasn’t afraid to play dirty if she needed to.

* * *

Hours later, Rebecca found herself on the sidewalk in front of Di Terrestres. The exterior of the club was unassuming enough, just like many other buildings located in Las Vegas’s downtown financial district. It was located at the bottom floor of their office high-rise, which housed Collins/Fischer along with many other businesses. The sleek gold letters emblazoned on the sign bearing its name weren’t out of place in this neighborhood, but the burly bouncers guarding the door in black suits may have been a giveaway. There was a small line of people looking for admittance, and one by one they were afforded entrance. She’d heard about the club, but a Google search had provided only vague information at best. She’d surmised it was exclusive, intimate even, and she figured that if there was anywhere she would find Brett after hours, it’d be here.

Rebecca frowned, glancing up at the tall building once more. As she approached the lineup, she eyed the doormen, who consulted their lists on the tablets in their hands. Brett had told her to come by, but she was certain she wasn’t on whatever list they had in front of them now.

The key was to act like she was.

She straightened her shoulders and strolled to the door, bypassing the small lineup, ignoring the annoyed stares of the people she passed. She smiled at a doorman, but he barely looked at her as she approached. “Name?” His voice boomed. He was huge and had a no-nonsense demeanor.

“I’m here to see Brett,” she said, not breaking eye contact. “He invited me.”

“Name?”

She sighed, feigning impatience. “Rebecca Daniels. If you could just tell him I’m here—”

“You can go right on in, Ms. Daniels,” he told her, looking up at her, now smiling.

She tried to stop the surprise from showing. “Really?”

“Rebecca Daniels.” He gestured to the screen. “You’re on the list. Go right on inside. You’ll find Mr. Collins in there.”

She schooled her features, not letting her disbelief that it had worked show. “Thank you,” she told him, sauntering past, confident as any woman would be to meet a man at his exclusive club.

From the foyer, Rebecca passed through two huge lush black curtains and found herself in the luxurious environs of Di Terrestres. Her eyes widened, impressed. It was dark but not too dark. The walls were covered with more black curtains, and modern chandeliers and small wall sconces cast dim swaths of golden light over the shadows that crept from the corners. Despite the large size of the room, the design and lighting made it feel small, intimate, sexy even, and she clearly wasn’t the only one who thought so. She looked around at the couples and groups of people huddled together at the high-backed booths and tables lining the room. Some of them were talking, laughing, and others were locked in intimate embraces, in various stages of undress. She looked around and noticed how the guests touched each other, spoke softly, as if they were lovers. But the faces were familiar, and she recognized many of them as some of Las Vegas’s most influential businesspeople, politicians and celebrities. It left her wondering exactly what kind of place Di Terrestres was.

At the center of the room was a huge raised platform, and she imagined it must have been a dance floor, but no one was dancing; the patrons were so wrapped up in each other, it went unused. Her attention returned to the people around her, engaging in extremely private acts in a very public space, and she felt envious, not having been able to give in to her own desires in a long time.

As a younger woman, she’d exhilarated in exhibitionism, and it was Brett who had brought that out in her. Their semipublic physical encounters were still with her. Back then, they’d done it everywhere—the college library, empty classrooms, store changing rooms—and the heat of the memories made her skin flush as it came over her from time to time. She shook her head in an attempt to disperse the images.

Brett was nowhere to be seen in the crowd, but she did see a long bar along one wall and made her way toward it. If she was going to talk to Brett again, she needed a drink...or several. So she took her place on an empty stool between two men, who simultaneously gave her an obvious once-over before they both turned to her with interest as the bartender quickly made her way over to Rebecca. “What can I get for you?”

“Gin and tonic please,” Rebecca told her, trying to ignore the attention of the men who flanked her. “A double.”

The gorgeous bartender nodded. “You got it.” She quickly made Rebecca’s drink and placed it in front of her on a cocktail napkin.

Rebecca withdrew her credit card from her purse to pay for her drink, but the bartender shook her head at her and walked away to serve the next customer. Rebecca’s eyebrows drew together as she watched the bartender take payment from another customer, and she wondered why she hadn’t been charged.

Her question was answered almost immediately when Rebecca caught a whiff of cologne—the spicy, leathery scent she remembered so vividly from the night of the mayor’s party. Brett’s cologne. A dim shadow fell over her, blocking the already-low light, and soon she felt a wall of warm muscle come up behind her and press against her back. She stiffened, and the other men turned their attention back to the bartender, apparently not willing to interfere in Brett’s affairs. Brett rested his palms on the bar on each side of her, trapping her between it and his chest. She didn’t turn around, and she felt him lean closer, bringing his lips to her ear. “I knew I’d see you again soon, Becca.”

“And I knew that I’d have to remind you again that I go by Rebecca now.” She sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. He was as gorgeous as always. In an attempt to steady her shaking hands, she cupped her glass and took a deep swallow of her drink. The gin was definitely top-shelf, and it hit the bottom of her empty stomach. Maybe she should have skipped the drink—no, going in sober wasn’t an option—or maybe she should have stopped to eat dinner before going to the club. And maybe, she thought as she looked up at Brett, either way she was making a huge mistake.

She needed to keep a clear head, especially when the memories of the party had clouded every rational thought she’d had since that night. His proximity only made it worse. Her throat dried and she took a deep gulp of her gin and tonic and turned back to look at him once more.

He was wearing gray slacks and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at his throat with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the tanned skin of his strong, corded forearms. His thick dark blond hair was tousled, and a five-o’clock shadow dotted his firm jawline. It looked like he’d left work and come to the club. But it didn’t matter what he wore, he looked just as good as he had wearing his more formal blue suit a couple of nights ago at Mayor Thompson’s house.

She steeled herself, attempting to hold back her emotions, her desire, reminding herself of the job at hand. But tell that to the breath she held in her lungs and the stirring in her core. She swiveled on her stool, rotating around to face him. He was standing over her, so closely that her knees brushed high on his thighs. While the shock of the contact racked throughout her, he didn’t even appear to flinch. But that was Brett—always so cool and in complete control.

“Can I get you a club soda, Brett?” The bartender had reappeared.

“No, I’m good. Thanks, Tanya,” he said without looking away from Rebecca.

“You put my name on the list.” Rebecca looked up at him. His face was only a few inches from hers. It wasn’t a question. He’d obviously done it.

His smile was cocky, his dimples deep. “I did,” he said with a nod. “I knew you’d come here eventually. That you couldn’t stay away. Especially after Saturday night, I knew you’d be back for more.”