Vanilla On Top(54)

The anger and frustration over the situation has my blood boiling. Brian bent the old man’s ear and filled it full of crap. Nikko has been fair in the past and I’m surprised he can’t see beyond the other man’s machinations. Yeah, don’t trust the guy who helped double your worth to two hundred billion in less than ten years. Trust the one who wants to save you seven million.

I itch to call Heather and let her know what’s going on. I know I can’t because it’s highly unprofessional and if I’m caught, I could get fired, not to mention sued.

The quick turnaround from the figurative fair-hair child to second best has thrown me for such a loop, it takes all of me to not pick up my chair and hurl it through the window. In the short span of forty-eight hours, I’ve managed to fuck up my career, break a verbal negotiation I made with a client, and fall in love with a woman.

Holy shit. There it is. I love her.

Three firsts in the last two days. Admittedly, the last one scares me the most.

Deidra knocks on my door and sticks her head in. “How you doing in here, Tony?”

My breath wheezes out in a rush. “I’ve been better.”

“I’ve got a call on line two for you regarding the steel deal set for next month.”

I run a hand through my hair and close my eyes briefly. Work marches on no matter what personal epiphany you may be experiencing. It’s humbling and intrusive all at once. “Fine. Put it through.”

The phone on my desk rings. I take a deep breath and square myself. Time to reapply and climb back to the top. I’ll need to prove myself to Nikko, again, and kick that weaselly Brian in the balls, all at the same time.

After the conference call, I pace my office carpet. I’ve sent three texts to Heather this afternoon and none of them have been returned. Has she reviewed the lower offer with her bosses and wondered what’s going on?

I have a distinct feeling she’s going to cancel on me last minute again tonight.

If she does, I’ll be showing up at her apartment. There is no way we’re not talking things out.



By eight o’clock I’m sitting on the couch with my cell in my hand, waiting for her to call. It’s official. I’m hard up for a girl. Me, the rat bastard who used to buy a woman a diamond bracelet when I was about to dump her so she’d have something to soothe her anger.

Now it occurs to me, it isn’t about their damaged pride so much as their broken heart. How could I have known when I never felt the same way about them? This empty feeling in my chest scares the crap out of me.

Is it possible to love someone you’ve only known a little over a week? Is this just a strong case of lust and I’m acting like an idiot? How are you supposed to know the difference?

My phone rings and I jump. I deliberately do not answer until the second ring so I don’t look like I’m sitting here waiting for her to call. Freakin’ pathetic.

“Hey, Tony. It’s me.”

“Hey.”

“I’m still at the office and probably will be for another hour or so.”

My heart sinks to my stomach. Just like I thought. I knew she’d cancel. I force a lightness into my voice I’m not feeling. “Yeah, I understand.” Part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop—for her to call me out on the lower deal. “What about tomorrow night? You don’t plan on working late on Friday, do you?”

“I’m sorry. I already made plans with friends.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, dear. This looks bad doesn’t it?” I don’t answer, afraid if I do I will sound like a sullen brat. “It’s the timing, Tony, I swear. This buyout has created more work than any of us bargained for. We’re all working late nights.”

I nod, then remember she can’t see it and grunt a response. For some reason, she’s pulling away from me. The non-returned texts prove it. Something is up and I aim to find out what.

We end the call after I suggest taking her to my building this weekend. She agreed, even sounded enthusiastic about the idea, but a part of me worries about that eagerness.

Holy crap. Is she going to dump me on Saturday? I thought we really connected Tuesday night, but maybe it was all in my head.

I glance at the clock. In an hour, I’m heading over to her place uninvited. I won’t be pushed off and shunted into the corner. I’ve waited too long to find someone like her and I won’t give up easily.

The doorman remembers me and lets me in without calling up. That’s a relief, I was afraid she might say no if given the chance. In a few minutes, I’m standing before her door.

I knock on the door, feeling sweat trickle down my back. Heather opens it, still dressed for work in a dark shirt and blouse, but barefoot and looking tired.