The Executive, page 9
She blinked up at me. “Does it matter?”
Did it? No, but something about it struck me in a way I wasn’t expecting. “It is an interesting Ivy fact. Who is older?”
“Me, by three minutes.”
I glanced up at the clock, noting it was just after four. “How is everything looking? Are the preparations for Boston complete?”
“You’re set now. Your flight leaves tomorrow at two. Austin will be here after your ten o’clock meeting with Techtonic.”
“Good. Reservations at the Cameo Hotel?”
She nodded. “Yes, two nights in one of their suites.”
“Good. Okay, I think we’re set. Go on and head out for the day.”
She stared at me. “Really?”
I had no idea her sister was coming in, or I might have given her more time off. Really, all she needed to do was ask. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Mr. Devereux.” She smiled up at me and bounced before throwing her arms around me.
I didn’t even have enough time to get over my shock and wrap my arms around her, to catch her, when she released me and stepped back, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, sir.”
My chest flared as I looked at her, desperate to have her where she was just seconds before.
“Have fun,” I said as I tilted my head toward the door.
She smiled before nearly racing for the door like the dismissal bell had just rung.
I shook my head before sitting back down, listening to them giggle and Ivy handing phone duty to the intern.
I couldn’t help but watch as she walked out the door, our eyes connecting for a fraction of a second as she glanced back.
The feel of her, the warmth, still lingered, and I missed it. I’d been good, but she continued to make it—and me—hard.
To make matters more interesting, Ivy was a twin.
Was that what drew me to her?
No, it wasn’t. That was Ivy.
Not even her identical twin could affect me the same. Everything I felt was for Ivy alone.
Ivy
“Please, please, please tell me you are getting some of that man,” Iris begged as we pulled up to my apartment.
I turned the car off and climbed out, hoping to get away from the conversation. For some reason I hadn’t told Iris much about Lincoln, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because I honestly didn’t know what was going on between us and she had a tendency to want every single detail.
“He’s my boss.”
She climbed the stairs behind me. “Maybe, but he’s divine.”
“Yes, he is, but he’s also an ass to work for.”
“He has a fine one of those.”
“What is with you?” I asked as I tossed my purse onto the table near the door.
She let out a sigh and fell down on my couch. “I don’t know. Ever since things ended with Jeremy, I’ve had this itch I can’t seem to scratch.”
“Well, you’re not using Mr. Devereux as your scratching post.”
“Why haven’t you told me?” she asked, her head tilted to the side.
“What?” I knew where she was going, and I wasn’t sure how to respond to what was coming.
“That you slept with him. I can tell you have feelings for him.”
I kicked my shoes off and fell down next to her, my head resting on her lap as I stared up at the ceiling. Her fingers threaded through my hair, and I unconsciously twirled one of her locks.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I replied.
“You like him.”
“Yeah, and you’re right, we’ve had sex. It’s just…he’s my boss. That complicates things.”
“Was it good?” she asked.
“Very,” I admitted. Try as I might, time didn’t help me forget how good it was. I wanted him more and more, but was it for sex? A romantic relationship? Did he even do romance?
“But only once?”
“I told him I wanted a professional relationship.”
She shook her head. “You are so full of shit.”
I pursed my lips. “Yes, well, he doesn’t know that.”
“Are you sure? I saw the way he looked at you.”
“Because you confused him by coming on to him while he thought you were me.”
“And even then, he didn’t look at me like he looked at you.”
Really? I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I couldn’t stop myself. “How did he look at me?”
“Like there’s this secret just between the two of you and if you say anything about it, the world will end or something.”
I stopped twirling her strand of hair. “That’s kind of depressing.”
“It’s romantic.”
“How so?” I asked. I’d missed Iris logic.
She sighed. “I’m not saying it right. It’s just, he looks at you like he’s got all these things stirring inside him, but he’s stopped by this invisible wall.” I could almost see the gears turning as she tried to remember whatever she was trying to clarify. “Longing! That’s the word I was looking for.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mr. Devereux doesn’t long for me.”
“How do you know?”
“It just…we can’t…he’s my boss, Iris!” It couldn’t happen. I wasn’t going to screw up a good thing.
“And? I don’t get the issue here.”
Of course she wouldn’t, but then again, she’d never been an assistant before. She didn’t know how close two people can become. In a way it came down to fear. I was afraid of ruining what we worked so hard to gain with something that could end up being nothing. I didn’t want people to talk, to become that stereotypical boss/assistant relationship gossip fodder.
“I like working for him. I like working for DCS. It’s so different from Kilgore, and I don’t want to ruin that.”
“Dad would like him.”
I rolled my eyes, but was thankful for the subject change opportunity. “How is he? I talked to him last week and he seemed good.”
“Butting heads with Briar like always.” When wasn’t that going on? It seemed like Briar lived just to argue with our father. “Dad started dating someone. Her name’s Karen. She’s nice.”
“I heard a little about her. It’s about time.”
“Yeah. It’s still weird to see him with someone else, you know?”
“I’m tired of him being lonely. He needs it.”
Ever since Mom died, Dad worked hard to raise us. Three noisy, hormonal teenagers became his focus, and it always made me sad that he was missing companionship in his life, especially after we moved out.
“Besides, twelve years is enough,” I said.
“Oh, she’s not the first woman he’s dated.”
“I know, but she obviously is important if you met her.” I knew he’d dated on and off for years, but they never turned into something serious enough to meet the kids. Karen had to be different.
“True.”
I swung my legs around, flipping into a sitting position. “What are you hungry for?”
She quirked a brow at me. “Are you sure our twin thing isn’t linked via our stomachs?”
“Fish and chips and beer?” I asked with a grin.
“Yes, please!”
The next morning I drove in on my own for the second day in a row. Austin was taking Mr. Devereux to the airport after his morning meeting and I had the afternoon off. That way I could go back home to Iris. I’d gotten used to Austin at my door, a coffee run, and then Lincoln for the last week, and I wondered if that would continue upon his return.
I picked up two coffees from the lobby and headed up. Just as I was putting my things away and waking my computer up, the doors opened and Mr. Devereux strode through.
“Good morning, sir,” I said with a smile as he walked in.
His eyes were glued to me as he closed the gap between us.
“Are you Ivy?” he asked.
I was a little taken back, but not entirely surprised after Iris’s display the day before. “Of course. Do you really think I’d let my sister come here again?”
“With the way she was coming onto me, I’m not certain.”
“She was playing with you. I’m so sorry about yesterday.”
He grabbed my arm and turned me toward him, his fingers wrapping along my jaw, gently lifting my face toward his. I watched his eyes flit between my own before the tension left his grip and he let out a sigh.
“It really is you,” he said.
“How do you know?” I asked. Most people had trouble, even those who knew us well.
“Your right eye. It has this gold stroke in your iris, toward the outer corner. Your sister doesn’t have that.”
Wow.
He was still touching me, his eyes locked on mine as his thumb swept across my bottom lip.
I tried not to be affected. Tried to ignore the way my lip burned from his touch, the way the heat soaked into my skin.
Maybe Iris was right, but I didn’t know if I was willing to risk everything to see what might happen.
Lincoln
Boston weather was shitty—cold and rainy, making me thankful my time in the city was limited to two days.
I was meeting with one of my oldest clients from back in my developer days—Steven Hayes, CEO of Cameo International. Over more than a decade, I’d cultivated many of the systems that helped run the multi-billion-dollar company. At least in the background.
“I really wish you hadn’t left writing systems and software.”
“Why? Because I streamlined your company?”
He nodded. “It was a shame to lose your talent.”
“You didn’t lose it. You just have to pay more for it now.”
He laughed at that. “True, but now I’m stuck working with developers who have half your ingenuity.”
“You still have my product.”
“And I love that it’s always being revolutionized; however, it’s just missing some of your genius. No matter what, I like doing business with you, and I’m glad to see you thriving at DCS.”
“Thank you.”
“But you need more than work in your life.”
“Steven…” I trailed off, knowing exactly where the conversation was headed.
“Hear me out. For seven years you have skyrocketed DCS, made them the industry leader, but that’s all you’ve done.”
“I know how important family is to you.” It was a conversation we’d had multiple times. A father of two, he was very family-oriented. His children weren’t raised like the trust-fund babies they were. While his daughter became a powerful analyst, his son became a firefighter. And his daughter’s husband was a firefighter.
“You should have someone by your side,” he argued.
I shook my head. “I don’t need anyone.”
“That’s the same thing Gavin said to me.”
“Greyson?” I’d worked with Gavin Greyson on one or two occasions, but mostly with our secure cloud services.
He nodded. “Now he’s leading Cates with a baby on the way and looking happier than ever.”
“After that nasty divorce, I’m surprised he could even find happiness.” I brought the glass of whiskey up to my lips and knocked it back before signaling to the bartender for another.
“It’s always the last person you suspect: a subordinate, a hotel clerk, the woman sitting next to you on a flight.”
“Right now, I’m—”
“Yes, yes, I know—focusing on work. Try not to lose yourself while trapped in all that work.”
“I know who I am.”
“Do you?”
I was a man with a mission. Revenge in my blood that begged for destruction. Some sort of retribution for the emptiness in my soul.
After that? It didn’t matter. I didn’t really care what happened after that. My goal was my only focus, no sense getting distracted by looking past the end game.
“I know why you strive so hard, but revenge won’t bring her back. Get it, but don’t forget to live while you do it.”
“I’m so close,” I said. Even Marcus confirmed it. Things were in motion.
“I know, and when you get there, promise me you’ll take a sabbatical,” he said as he pushed his chair back.
“What’s that?” I asked in jest.
He smiled at me. “One of those long vacation things.”
“Vacation? Who has time for that?”
“You will—once your mission is complete. You’ll need a new mission, a new focus. Don’t get lost. Find someone who grounds you, someone you can trust.”
At his words, Ivy flashed in my mind. Her soft eyes and warm smile. My perfect storm.
“Easier said than done, my friend.”
He held out his hand as he stood. “Lincoln, it was great seeing you again. As always, I can’t wait to see what DCS does for us next.”
“Say hi to Linda for me,” I said as I shook his hand.
“Will do. Safe trip home tomorrow.”
After Steven left, I sat at a booth in the hotel bar, working on another glass of whiskey while trying to not let my mind wander back to what Steven said.
Moreover, to whom his words made me think of.
Someone who made me feel, made my days better. Someone who I trusted more than I should.
“Hello, handsome,” a sugar-coated voice said, as someone slid into the open space across from me.
I looked over at the blonde in front of me. Overdone makeup, too much emphasis on her looks, and eyelashes she kept batting at me.
“Yes?”
“Just thought you’d like some company. You looked lonely over here by yourself.” She played her seduction part fairly well. Her eyes were wide, lips slightly parted while she leaned forward to emphasize her breasts.
The show was almost sickening. I’d encountered more women like her than I could count. It was not appealing in the least.
“If you think letting me get my dick wet will get you something other than some banging sex, get the fuck away from me.”
She blinked at me in confusion. “Excuse me.”
“Did I stutter? If I want to fuck you, I’ll come to you. Gold-digging sluts who hang out in swanky hotel bars trying to find a sugar daddy aren’t my thing.”
Her face scrunched up and turned beet red before the inevitable tossing of her drink. It was a move I was familiar with, and I was able to duck away from the splash of liquid, a few drops landing on my suit regardless.
“Fucking asshole,” she spat before stomping away.
“I never claimed to be anything else.”
One of the wait staff was over in a flash, mopping up the liquid with a rag. “Mr. Devereux, I am so sorry. Let me get this cleaned up for you.”
“Thank you—” I glanced down at the name tag “—Maggie.” I gave her one of my killer smiles, enjoying the way she turned pink.
Maybe she was what I needed to help me get over this obsession with Miss Prescot. It had been months with only my hand for company, trapped in a space every day with a woman I wanted but couldn’t have. She was in my thoughts constantly, but she didn’t want anything more than a professional relationship. Somehow, that bothered me.
Maggie left, but brought me a fresh drink a few minutes later.
Another drink or two and another hour later, I retreated to my room. It was late, but something bothered me, itching just below the surface of my skin, and drinking seemed like the best way to quiet it.
There was a bottle of whiskey on the wet bar, and I promptly opened it.
I hated the feeling that was taking over, the crawling across my nerves. The splashes of red that flashed across my vision.
I downed the first glass, trying to make the vision go away. My eyes squeezed tightly while I pleaded.
For years I’d managed to keep them down, push them away, but in recent weeks they kept attacking, leaving me on edge.
Without conscious thought, I heard Ivy’s voice in my ear, and a quick glance at my hand revealed my phone and her name on the display. Somehow, I had called her.
“Mr. Devereux? What time is it?”
Time? I had no idea. I stared down at my phone, at the number in the right-hand corner. “Four in the morning.”
“Sir, your flight is in…a few hours or something.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Okay?” Her tone was dubious.
“Can a person come back from the edge?” Red flashed in my eyes. Deep and dark. Circling, covering, consuming.
Her voice was suddenly clearer. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Can a person come back from the edge?” I asked again. I needed to know if I could have stopped it, if I could have saved her.
I wanted to know if, once I had my revenge, I could come back.
“What edge? Lincoln, what’s going on?”
Lincoln.
Fuck, I loved the way my name rolled off her tongue.
I tapped the phone against my forehead. Why did I call her? I glanced down at the glass in my hand and found my answer.
“Forget it. I seem to have had too much to drink.”
“Don’t hang up. Talk to me.” Her voice was frantic. Why was it frantic? I didn’t want to talk anymore.
“Good night.”
“Lincoln, wait.”
“It’s Mr. Devereux to you, Miss Prescot. Remember that,” I growled into the receiver before hitting the end button and tossing my phone across the room.
It had barely settled when it began to ring incessantly. There was nothing to do but stare and wait for it to end, and it did, only to start up again.
I threw back the rest of my drink before standing from the couch and retrieving the phone from the ground. Immediately, I silenced the ringer.
When I awoke to the blaring of my alarm, my head felt like it was going to crack open. It was way too early, and I was fairly certain I was still drunk. The clock only showed an hour’s difference from the last time I’d looked at it when I fallen onto the bed, proving the last part was probably correct.
Reluctantly, I looked at my phone and the nine missed phone calls along with a slew of text messages. There were also a few voicemails, but I didn’t have the mind to process those.
Ivy’s name covered the screen, and I clicked on the text messages.
