Forbidden Surrender(5)

At the first sign of positivity, Richard attempted to salvage our chances. He cleared his throat and over the next fifteen minutes made an eloquent speech about value-added returns ending full circle with the surfing analogies we’d practiced. Apparently I’d bought him enough time to reformulate our strategy.

Still, only a few slight nods hinted Vincent had actually been listening. Mostly, he was just reading the materials I gave him.

“Any questions, Mr. Sorenson?” Richard asked.

“No. That’s all I need to know.” Vincent’s rise from his seat indicated our meeting was over and we followed. “Thank you, Kristen.” He shook my hand first, then Richard’s. “Thank you, Dick.” Richard paused then reciprocated the handshake, seemingly ignoring the misnomer.

When we left Vincent’s office, my shoulders slumped and my body felt numb. Even the lively South African air couldn’t reinvigorate me. On the walk back to the hotel, I was tempted to call Richard out on his behavior during the meeting, particularly the part where he threw the entire burden on my shoulders when things started going sour. I studied his features, expecting to find him dejected since he had more to lose than me, but he looked surprisingly calm.

“We blew it, didn’t we?” I said, more as a statement than a question.

“Huh? I don’t know why you think that.”

“He wasn’t responding to the emotion-driven strategy like we practiced. He barely said a thing.”

Richard waved his hand as if dispelling an odor. “These brooding billionaire types, they just want you to think they’re dark and mysterious. It gets the ladies but it’s all an act. Did you see the guy? I was spot-on about his clothing. And I’m certain we aced that meeting. Don’t worry.”

I groaned. “Sure.”

“Besides, I think he was into you. That move where you tripped and groped his pecs was perfect. We couldn’t have planned something better.” Richard chuckled.

“Don’t tell anyone that happened,” I snapped. It was bad enough Richard knew about that mishap, but it’d be even worse if more people at the firm found out—there was no telling how they would interpret it. The office gossip would be trouble.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” His finger to his lips completed the mockery.

“What are you doing the rest of the day?” I asked, wanting nothing more than to change the subject before my irritation with him made me speak out of line.

“Oh not much. Try the local cuisine, check out babes at the beach while I catch up on some emails.”

“Which beach?”

“Clifton.”

I smiled at him. Riley and I were definitely not going to that one.





When I got back to my hotel room Riley was curled up on the bed watching television. Richard had gone to his own room to do who knows what.

“So how did it go?” Riley paused after I shot her a miserable look. “I’m so sorry, Kris. You don’t have to talk about it.”

I kicked off my heels and let my hair down, anxious to get out of professional mode. “Richard seems to think we did well. Sometimes I feel like he’s in his own world though. Vincent was definitely not going for our pitch. You could totally read it in his body language.”

Riley’s expression was sympathetic. Remote in her hand, she switched off the TV. “I’m sure you did your best. Maybe luck just wasn’t on your side today.”

“That’s the thing. I couldn’t even do my best. I messed up multiple times.” My mind replayed the awkward moments from the meeting and I shuddered. I didn’t have anyone to blame but myself, but in my current mood I was eager for a scapegoat. “If Vincent wasn’t so damn gorgeous, things might’ve been different.”

“Oh, do tell.” Her voice increased a pitch.

I told her all about my blunders, and when I was done she smiled. “Well at least you looked professional.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.” I gave her a wry grin.

“You know I’m always here for support. That’s why we’re going to have a blast today. You’re going to forget all about that meeting and Mr. Abs Sorenson. Tonight we’ll hit the bars and have guys buy us drinks. I know you haven’t been dating much, all that sexual frustration must be eating you alive.”

It was true. I’d only gone on a handful of unsuccessful dates since I’d met Riley. I told myself it was because I focusing on my career instead, but there were also personal reasons I didn’t want to think about dating—reasons I never told Riley. Still, she was right about the sexual frustration. If my battery-operated boyfriend could talk, he’d probably say I was smothering him.