Money Shot (15 page)

Perfectly groomed eyebrows arched downward. “Is your name Loyd Wright, by any chance?”

“Last time I checked my ID, it read Trent Byron Stone. What’s your father got to do with this?”

“He gave me my last orders at seventeen years old,” she retorted.

“You told me once that I was the closest thing you had to a brother. I’m just looking out for you,” he replied.

“There’s a difference between giving me orders and looking out for me.”

He breathed deeply, taking in her exotic scented perfume. “I’m a little confused. I thought you loved being on the receiving end.”

She shook her head. “What?”

Trent chuckled. “Do you like to give or receive?”

Zaira gasped and straightened her back against the wall. “You’re twisting my words around. Again. You’re good at that, aren’t you, Trent?”

Her face was so close to his and he whispered, “You know what else I’m good at? Detecting a lie. You’ve had more than one drink.”

“Look, you told me you wanted to talk about something. What is—?”

Zaira swayed again and this time he pressed his body gently against hers to keep her upright. She pressed her palm against her forehead. “I guess that last shot did me in.” She chuckled nervously.

“How many did you have?”

“Three or four.”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” he said.

“Trisha is our designated driver tonight and they’re ready to go.”

“They’re ready to go to a bar and you will not be going with them. I take care of my own and those of my RR brothers. Your father qualifies and I’m responsible for making sure you get home safely.”

Zaira’s body grew lax against his. She pressed against his chest and held onto the front of his shirt for support. “Oh…”

“What in the world did you drink?” He lifted her chin to glance at her face.

“I drank too much of the Crown. Okay, I admit it. You happy now?”

“Zaira…”

She pursed her lips in defiance. “I haven’t enjoyed a night with my girls in forever. So, save it.”

“So, what’s it gonna be? Are you gonna willingly let me drive you home or are we going to cause a scene?”

She grabbed onto his forearm. “I need some water and then I’ll decide.”

“Fine. Here’s an empty seat.” He gestured toward a side chair near the wall. “Just stay right here and I’ll come back with water.”

“Mmhmm, just hurry,” she said, as she slumped down in the chair and pressed her palms to her face.

By the time Trent had grabbed some bottled water, found her friends and convinced them that he was sane, not a criminal, knew her parents, and would get her safely home, Zaira had leaned against the chair and had apparently passed out. He wasn’t amused at all, but at least this ensured her protests about calling it a night were kept to a minimum.

He scooped her up and headed toward the door to his ride. As soon as the fresh night air hit them, she came to.

“Trent?” she murmured against his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Yeah…that’s me.”

“You smell good.” She breathed in deeply, eyes still closed. “You taking me home, right?”

“Of course.”

“Do you want me?”

Trent halted abruptly. He had to pause to look at her for a moment, to make sure that those words actually came from her mouth. She’d spoken the words, but he reminded himself that she was intoxicated.

“Yes, I want you,” he replied.

“Perfect,” she whispered. “It’s time to break a record.”

He almost stumbled over a landscape rock as he crossed the huge front lawn to get to his ride. “What record?”

“I’m in no state to ride your bike.”

“I drove my car.” He didn’t miss the fact that she’d never answered his question.
“What record?”

Zaira chuckled softly against his throat sending carnal sensations down his spine. “Just drive me home.” She lifted her face close to his and pressed smooth, chilly lips against his cheek. “I’ll tell you when we get there. After you…unwrap me. And take me…”

He swallowed dry air. A hard-on pulsed behind his zipper, but he walked with his vixen in his arms down the single row of cars lining the curb contemplating his options.

They reached his Porsche and he helped Zaira inside before jumping in on the driver’s side. No other words were spoken as she propped the seat back and succumbed to her fatigue. She looked so beautiful, even after consuming an undisclosed amount of liquor. But he wasn’t that type of man. He didn’t take advantage, especially not with someone he cared about. He wanted her—badly. But he wanted the real Zaira Wright, quick temper and all.

Chapter Two

Being freelance had its drawbacks. Zaira knew this first hand. There was an advantage to it—she set her own hours and showed up for work when there was actually work to do. The disadvantage was that she was on call. Most of time that meant scheduled meetings and appointments with only a moment’s notice. Like the one starting in fifteen minutes…

The elevator bell dinged each time it progressed a level. The noise only aggravated her migraine more, and the headache pill she’d taken prior to leaving her condo did nothing to ease a massive hangover. What was she thinking when she agreed to go to that initiation party with the girls last night? How would she have known that her father would call an impromptu Monday afternoon meeting?

The elevator finally came to a stop on the fifteenth floor and corporate offices of Svelte Technologies. Zaira stepped into the main lobby and was promptly greeted by the receptionist at the desk.

“Zaira,” Patrice called out. “Nice to see you again. Are you working a late shift tonight?”

“Hi, Patrice. No, not tonight.” Zaira approached the desk and placed her briefcase on the black marble floor. “I was scheduled to be off today, but I’m here for the one thirty meeting. It’s in the main conference room, right?”

“Let me check.” She scanned the computer briefly before looking up again. “Actually the re-organization meeting is in your father’s office. I’ll let them know you’re here.”

“Thank you.” Zaira said her farewell to Patrice, and then used her pin to enter the main suite.

Since when did her father call private impromptu meetings?

Zaira bit the inside corner of her lip. The last time they discussed business on short notice, the conclusion was an addition to Svelte’s product line. During the transition, she nearly doubled her working hours at the office. Maybe her father had even more plans to increase her workload.

She greeted a few people along the way, passing the rows of cubicles and offices. She had a good working relationship here with her colleagues for the most part. But the majority of the people didn’t see her as the temporary accountant who worked odd hours to make up for the current vacancy in the CFO office. They saw her as the only daughter to the owner of the company.

The door to her father’s office suite was closed. Behind it, she heard the voice of her father and one other in room. She knocked softly at the door.

“Come on in,” her father called.

With keen curiosity she pushed the door open. The first person she saw was her father’s smiling face as he sat behind his large oak desk. There were three chairs directly in front of him. One was empty. One was occupied by Marcus Brooks, Svelte’s CEO. She recognized the third person as Trent Stone just as she stumbled inside the office. Her insides tightened and warmth fanned across her body. Zaira feigned her surprise and her composure, but she was truly struggling inside the four-inch stilettos she wore. Last night’s encounter with Trent at the house party suddenly came back to her. Even now she couldn’t remember much between them leaving the party and right now. Damn, she couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten into her bed last night. Since all her clothes were still intact when her buzzer went off this morning, she figured nothing out of the ordinary had went on between her and Trent. Or had it…?

“Zaira, you’re right on time.” Her dad held his hand out toward the empty seat. “Marcus, Trent, and I just got back from lunch. You’ve had lunch already, haven’t you?”

There was a small Cuban cafe on the first level of the building that served the most delicious sandwiches and wraps and the best
Cafecito
. Dad knew she loved to eat there on her days in the office.

“Yes.” This was half of the truth. The apple and bag of chips she ate on the way here hardly qualified as lunch, but she didn’t need to explain that she was still recovering from a late night out and a hangover.

The men stood as common courtesy as she took her seat. As Zaira got comfortable and crossed her legs, she caught Trent’s gaze and his quirky grin. It dawned on her that he knew a lot more about what happened last night than she did.

“We’ve known each other for years, so I won’t worry about all the formalities.” Her dad rested back in his big leather chair as he spoke and linked his fingers together. He smiled. “I finally have a team of my most trusted to take this company to the next level.”

“You do?” Zaira asked.

She’d known that her father was looking to hand the reins to someone else. It was all he ever talked about these days. He’d recently invested in a newer start up, and thus couldn’t devote as much time to Svelte as he wanted to. She’d told her father long ago that she felt she needed more training and seasoning at her current firm before agreeing to work with him at Svelte on a full time basis. Plus her father had always known that working for one company had never been her priority. She much rather preferred to outsource her work at many different companies.

“That’s why you’re here. You’ve done a great job with stepping into the temporary CFO role when it became vacant. You worked many overtime hours and know this company from the inside out. In fact, you are the
only
person that knows me and this company from the inside out. Zaira, I wanted you to take the role, but you’ve already made it clear that you won’t have it.”

She sighed. “Dad, we talked about this. I will do whatever it takes to keep this company alive and striving, but a CFO position is not my calling. Not right now. Taking the role here would restrict me from gaining the experience I need in other industries. Virtually everyone in this city who’s anyone knows that you’re my Dad. I don’t want a handout and I don’t want it to appear that way either.”

“She’s most definitely your daughter. A Wright, no doubt.” This came from Marcus who sat in the last chair on the right.

Her dad chuckled. “Yes, she is.”

Zaira smiled, but definitely wanted to get to the reason for her presence. And Trent’s, for that matter. “And about this new team…?”