Command Me Book 1
Friday
Sarah clapped because the others in the conference room were clapping, otherwise shock would have held her immobile. She’d lost. That shouldn’t be possible. She was the company’s top seller and had been for months. She wouldn’t have made that bet with Joel if she hadn’t been sure she would win.
The chart displaying the current standings didn’t lie. Sarah’s name sat below Joel’s, separated by a large gap. Somehow Joel had managed to wrangle three new clients with deep pockets. That had pushed him so far ahead that Sarah wouldn’t have had a chance of winning unless she’d done the same.
From Sarah’s right, Scott said, “Tell us your secret, Joel. Whose ass did you kiss to get those contracts?”
Joel glanced Sarah’s way. His gaze slid over her like a caress before landing on Scott. “No secret. Just the right motivation. You’d be surprised what you can do when the prize is tempting enough.” He curved his lips into that toothpaste ad smile that grated on Sarah’s nerves.
She didn’t understand how no one noticed Joel’s fakeness. Everything about Joel lacked sincerity or originality. He’d copied his corporate slicked back appearance from a magazine, she was sure. That would explain why he appeared so cookie cutter every day—dark suits in one style that framed his toned physique, and his black hair styled with just enough mousse to keep it in place all day while not appearing stiff.
He belonged in a news anchor’s chair or on a car lot selling luxury vehicles to people with no concept of the value of money. Instead he was in corporate sales, wasting the work he put into his looks to haggle over the phone with people who probably gave him business just to hear that buttery voice of his. All of it was a lie. He was putting on a show for the masses and they were eating it up, giving him another round of applause as he waved at them.
Sarah rolled her eyes but bit back the annoyed sigh that tried to escape her lips. She didn’t do petty, or at least she tried not to. She’d lost the bet, but the fiscal year still had one more quarter. The raise and the trip to Hawaii were still within reach. This quarter was a fluke. Joel wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace he’d started. Once he faltered, Sarah could pull ahead to the top spot where she belonged.
At the front of the room, Evan got the meeting back on track. Sarah didn’t hear anything he said. She didn’t need to either. It was the same old information every week—remind clients of all the services the company offered in the hopes of an up-sale, and go after new clients at every opportunity. She did that without fail and she’d still lost.
Evan adjourned the meeting after a go-team-go closer. Sarah took her time gathering her belongings to allow the people in a hurry to get to lunch to leave first. Her hope that Joel would be one of them faded as he sat back to watch her.
Sarah decided to ignore him. He probably wanted to gloat, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She headed for the door without giving him a single glance but she knew he continued watching her.
When she was near the door, Joel said, “Lunch is on me.”
Sarah stopped but didn’t turn back. “No thanks.”
“Are you pouting, Sarah?”
“No.”
“Good.” Joel’s chair creaked as he pushed to his feet.
Sarah held herself still and let Joel walk over to her. She didn’t want him to think she was running from him, or from the bet they’d made.
He hooked his arm with hers. “Let’s go.” He tightened his grip when she would’ve pulled away and leaned close. In a low voice, he said, “Unless you want to talk about the terms of paying off our little bet here.”
She’d lost again. Ceasing her attempt to get away from him, Sarah nodded. “Fine.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ll drive. I know a place on the edge of downtown where we shouldn’t run into any coworkers. You and I can have a nice chat.”
They stopped at Sarah’s desk long enough for her to put down her work and pick up her purse. They made the car ride to the restaurant Joel had mentioned in silence. Only after the hostess showed them to a booth did Sarah speak.
“How did you do it?” she asked.
Joel grinned at her. “I knew you would ask that.”
“Well?”
“Video games.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Clint Faver, the owner of one of the companies I signed, is a gamer. Military campaign games.” Joel relaxed against his seat with his arm stretched across the top of the booth. “Some deals are made on the golf course and some deals are made in the trenches. I found out his handle joined him on some missions.”