Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 99918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“Yes, sir. Looking good, Tristan,” she said, looking up from her monitor and giving him a wink.
“It feels off,” Tristan said, moving his hands in the air over his clothing.
“Looks professional and hot all at the same time,” she said, laughing at his grimace. He wasn’t the suit and tie kind of guy. He actually hated wearing these things. But these guys were from Dallas—Southern Bible Belt types—and he figured they wore these formal kinds of church-going clothes.
“Don’t say that too loud. Landry will hear you, then I’ll have to fistfight him in his fit of jealousy, making for an even worse Human Resource nightmare than marrying your boss,” Tristan responded loudly. Landry’s doors were open and right beside her desk.
“I do think I might have been harassed…” she said as loudly.
“No. It’s only funny when I joke about it,” Tristan teased. “You can’t after all the legal I had to sit through to make sure all parties were completely covered when you two decided you couldn’t live without each other. I’m here for another reason besides how I look. I need the weekend itinerary for our guests.”
“Sure. I placed a copy on your desk and sent one in email.”
“Good job—very thorough. Can you resend it to my email now?”
“Tristan, you should open email. I assist you and I might have something important to tell you,” Amy lectured, working at her computer as she spoke.
“Tell Landry.” Tristan palmed his phone, pulling up email, waiting for her to resend the original.
“When Landry handles everything, things like the security fiasco downstairs happen,” she whispered never looking up, her fingers clicking on the keyboard.
“I knew it was him. That had Landry Prescott written all over it,” Tristan scoffed, but he didn’t hide the disapproval in his voice.
Amy looked up at him. “It’s your vision, Tristan. No one runs this office like you. We miss you here.”
“I hear you. Even thought the same thing just minutes ago, but not a conversation for right now,” Tristan said, eyeing her closely. He’d hired her for a reason. Even after the sickeningly sweet love she had for Landry, she was still very loyal to him.
“They’re here. Jamison, your favorite security guard down there, just sent them up,” Landry announced, sticking his head past his office door. His brow narrowed as he stared at Amy and Tristan huddled close together. “Are you still trying to get her to sign that release? I married her for Christ’s sake.”
“I’ve decided I can’t live without her, and I’m convincing her I’m the one for her,” Tristan teased while he glanced over the itinerary on his phone. Meet and greet, tour, dinner, drinks. He stared down apathetically at the dates, times, and names. This schedule contained nothing more than schmoozing for three full days. He hated this part the most. The elevator ding saved them all from Landry’s answer. Tristan went directly to the elevator to meet the men himself.
Everything in the Wilder, Inc. office was overly bright and cheerful with a contemporary, pleasingly ergonomic flair. The company clearly spent an incredible amount of money on its environment to bring the employees a stimulating and creative workspace. Dylan himself had looked into changes such as these for his Dallas office but could never fully justify making such sweeping modifications with his already overtaxed budget. Yet, as far as he was concerned, the facility impressed him before they even started the tour. His employees, the ones that relocated, would do well here.
“The concierge service is cool. Even if we don’t do this, I think we should add that service for our staff,” Rob stated. More so than David, Rob agreed with Dylan and always pushed to give back to their staff.
“I can’t see why we wouldn’t take an offer if they give us one this weekend,” David added quickly, right before the elevator doors opened. David was Dylan’s jump-into-the-frying-pan kind of guy. Between the three of them, they covered all the bases. Dylan was most definitely the study-all-the-angles type. He wouldn’t let all his employees down by getting overly excited about a showy exterior. He needed to see the details and inner workings before decisions could be made.
“Shhh,” Dylan whispered. From the articles he’d read in Science Digest, he easily spotted Tristan Wilder. Two things struck him at once. First, the president and CEO of the multi-billion dollar empire, Wilder, Inc., was standing there, apparently ready to greet them, and second, he was much better-looking in person than he had been in the magazine article. And he’d been damn fine in print.
Dylan let David and Rob step out first. He kept his eyes on Wilder as the man greeted his senior management team. He couldn’t help but notice the wide shoulders and broad chest hidden under a well-fitted designer suit. With short-cropped, blond hair and strong facial features, all complemented by a perfectly chiseled jawline, the man had the whole modern day Nordic god thing going on. Dylan found he couldn’t quit staring as the striking man finally turned toward him.
“Hello, welcome to Wilder. I’m Tristan.” He gave a warm smile that drew Dylan’s eyes to his full lips. During his greeting, Tristan took a step back and motioned them from the elevator area. Tristan was about his height, maybe a little taller and had no problem looking him directly in the eyes. His heart skipped a beat under the weight of the man’s stare. His body even reacted enthusiastically to Tristan’s proximity.
Tristan’s hand was warm against his, and as he squeezed, those unusual and intense steel gray eyes never left his. He wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d held that handshake when he noticed the corners of Mr. Wilder’s smile curl into a smirk. His mouth was suddenly dry, his palms grew a bit damp, and he withdrew his hand quickly as a tall, dark-haired man rushed around the corner.
Hopefully the owner of Wilder, Inc. hadn’t noticed his ogling or sweaty palms.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” the well-dressed man said, barreling down on them. “I’m Landry,” he announced and shook all of their hands. Again, Dylan was last. The distraction drew his eyes away from Tristan, and he acknowledged the man he’d talked to the most during the acquisition inquiry phase.