Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Are you ready to come work for me?” I question, loving the slight shock in her widening eyes. “The position’s yours.”
I expect Raven to be grateful. Relieved, almost. This is the only way I can imagine correcting the situation I’ve thrust her into.
I use people. It’s a way of life at my professional level. I play chess with lives, using people as pawns. You fuck with me, I crush your company. I’ve broken reputations when it was warranted, and I’ve elevated others when it served me. But never have I put someone at risk the way I have Raven, and this odd feeling in my chest is uncomfortable.
Is it guilt?
That seems most likely. In this particular chess game, I’ve sacrificed her to save the king—myself. It was somewhat unintentional, but the fallout is the same, regardless.
But I can save her. Fix this. She only needs to say ‘yes’.
Instead, Raven folds her hands in her lap, giving me a look that would make a professional poker player nod in admiration. Only her eyes betray her emotions. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea, Dylan.”
“No?” I ask, surprised myself. She’s turning me down?
It’s a splash of ice-cold water in my face. But at the same time, it’s intriguing, and I find myself wanting her more. She has to know what’s happening. She’s not that fucking naive.
The more I stare at her across the table, the more I want her to give in and trust me. Take the position and let me fix this.
I guess it is true, you chase what you can’t get. I just need this to be a very short chase. My reputation is also on the line.
“You’re struggling,” I tell her bluntly. “If I’m getting the whispers, then you’re getting it worse. Am I wrong?”
Raven swallows, and I see her bottom lip tremble. She murmurs her response, “No.”
“Tell me about what you’ve been through since the event,” I instruct her. “How many interviews have you been to?”
“Just three,” she admits. “Mr. Styles was the last. It wasn’t productive.”
I nod, not letting my anger show. Michael Styles wishes his firm were in my position. Hell, the way the man cheats on his wife with both his mistress and his wife’s friend on the side, he probably wishes that he were in my position with Raven the other night as well.
“Only three?” I question, hating the way anger brews inside me. She nods, and I swirl the glass of bourbon, hating this.
My intention was to help her and show Evan he was nothing, and that he couldn’t fuck her over like he’s done so many other times. Instead, he’s winning. All because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants for the few minutes it would’ve taken to get an actual room at the hotel.
“And the others?”
“Two flat out cancellations, and Ollie’s delayed our meeting until next week,” she says. Of course Ollie did. That’s unrelated to Evan’s machinations, but Raven doesn’t know that. I could tell her that Ollie took a quick flight out to check an investment in Wyoming and ease her mind, but instead, I keep quiet, letting her think that I’m her only option.
Does it make me an asshole? No. It makes me a shrewd businessman. And that’s what this is. In this moment, this is just business between the two of us, me hiring a new prospect.
“So accept my offer,” I tell her. “At my firm, no one is going to say a goddamn thing. And if you can produce as well as your resume says and as well as you talked at the party, then in five years, nobody’s going to give a shit about a rumor.”
Raven shifts around, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s not just that. Dylan, what we did that night was… fun,” Raven explains, heat coloring her high cheekbones. She looks away for a moment, and I bite my tongue, preventing myself from teasing her for the word ‘fun’ to describe what happened between us. “It was everything that I needed at that moment… but it was not a good decision for my career, and I can’t imagine working for you would…”
She struggles to express herself, letting out a frustrated sigh.
“I imagine you have concerns about working for me further hurting your reputation?” I surmise.
“Correct,” she answers with a grateful nod that I understand as her wine is delivered quietly by the waitress. She accepts it and immediately takes a gulp.
“Raven, I’m not saying there haven’t been consequences to what happened. Admittedly, more for you than me. But consider this. What am I getting out of making this offer to you? What advantage does it give me? Because that’s the bottom line in this business.”
“You’re not a charity, so don’t treat me like a charity case,” Raven hisses, anger showing for the first time, and I’m glad. I want her this way, not feeling sorry for herself but trying to figure out her best path forward. It’s a tough lesson in the Financial District, but in some ways, it’s a good thing she’s getting it so early in her career. “And I know what you want. You want a second go around… in a different location.”