The Couple who Fooled the World. Maisey Yates
Ferro leaned out the window of the limo and placed his thumb on a scanner. His driver did the same. “You, too,” he said.
“It won’t recognize me.”
“I know,” he said, “and you won’t be given clearance to use your print to open the gate. But I keep records.”
“Fingerprint records! Talk about paranoid.”
“Don’t I need to be?” he asked.
She shrugged and nodded in grudging agreement. Especially since she was one reason he should be paranoid. She wasn’t above snooping for secrets. But he did it to her, too, dammit. Fair was fair. Or two unfairs made it fair…or something.
“Now, you. Print,” he said.
She looked across the seat, across him and out the window. “You want me to just…lean over and do it?”
A flicker of amusement sparked in his eyes. “Yeah. Just lean over and do it.”
Her cheeks heated and she did her best not to make eye contact or show him that he’d disturbed her in any way. She was used to men. She worked with a lot of men, and she’d gotten to the point where their innuendos didn’t really bother her. Especially not when she had her armor on. The face she showed the world. The leather clad, boot-wearing, tough chick who took no prisoners in the boardroom.
That’s just who she would be now. Who she would remember she was now. He was trying to unnerve her. And she didn’t back down. Ever. Not for any man.
She took a breath and leaned over, reaching past him. And came up short of the reader. She cleared her throat and edged a little closer, her arm skimming his chest. Her heart tripped and fell, sending a pang of something deeply disturbing through her body. Something that left her feeling a little breathless and shaky.
And there was the way he smelled again. Closer, she could identify the nuances to it. Spice from aftershave. Soap over skin. Clean, musky, masculine skin…
At least, that was her assumption of what the smell was. She wasn’t overly familiar with the scent of men’s skin, but that was not anything she should be thinking about. And she way shouldn’t be thinking about the way Ferro Calvaresi’s skin smelled.
Scan your thumb and run, you’re regressing!
Regressing to that sad, longing teenage girl she’d once been. Failing to fit in until she’d stopped trying. And then her parents had started trying for her and things had gotten really bad. And then she’d found out what could happen when you tried. When you were vulnerable and soft and trusting.
She shook off the memory, leaned in a bit more and tried to ignore it when the edge of her breast touched his biceps. She tried, also, to ignore the fact that her breath was jammed in her throat and she couldn’t inhale or exhale anymore.
She extended her hand and placed her thumb over the scanner, the trapped breath exiting in a gust when it beeped and she could get herself back over to her side of the limo, with a bit of healthy distance between Ferro and herself.
They continued up the driveway and another gate barred the way. The limo stopped and her heart fluttered against her breastbone like a caged bird. “Are you kidding me?”
He shrugged. “This one just uses a code.”
He keyed it in on the screen of his phone, a phone that she noticed wasn’t as sleek or fast as the one her company had just released, and the gate opened.
“Neat,” she said.
“Does your phone link up to home security?”
“No. But it has really cool gaming apps.”
“How is it that your phones are outselling mine?” he asked, dark brows locked together.
“Did you not just hear me say the words really cool and games? That’s how.”
“There is no practical use in that.”
“Right, and practicality is fine, but the vast majority of people do not have security that screams ‘I’m paranoid.’”
“And how is your security?” he asked.
“It screams ‘I’m paranoid.’ But I don’t need to control it from my phone.”
He lifted his phone. “Admit it, though, it’s very…cool.”
“All right, fine. It is.”
“This is all making my case very nicely for me.” The limo pulled up in front of a massive home, more reminiscent of an Italian palazzo than of the other homes that were set into the hill side.
“What case is that?”
Ferro opened his door and got out, then rounded to her side, opening the passenger door for her. He leaned in and she caught the scent of him again. Her heart tripped over itself again. And then he offered her his hand.
“Stuff it, Calvaresi, this is a business meeting.” She got out of the car, avoiding his touch, and leaned past him, closing the door herself. “If you wouldn’t do that for a male business rival, don’t do it for me.”
“I shall make a note of the fact that my touch disturbs you.”
“Disturbs me? Your touch nothings me. But I won’t have you engaging in subtle power plays here. Tell me what it is you want so I can get back in the limo and make my way back down Fort Ferro and back into civilization. I’m in serious need of some wine at this point in the day.”
“Then come in and have some,” he said. “Because this isn’t going to be a brief meeting.”
“Oh, no, it is, because I can already tell I’m not going to like what you have to say.”
“You won’t like it, but you aren’t stupid. That means you’ll listen.”
“Does it?”
“Yes. My case is this. You have something I need, I have something you need. The only way we’re going to get this deal is by joining forces.”
“I would rather be thrown into the fires of Mount Doom.”
“Noble. But it isn’t going to get you your deal. Working with me will.”
“Wrong. It will get me half a deal.”
“It’s better than no deal. And it’s better than Hamlin getting the deal.”
“And why am I more okay with you getting the deal than Hamlin?” she asked. She knew Scott Hamlin was a big-time jerk, she wasn’t unobservant and the word about him that she heard was never good. She’d hired people who’d come from Hamlin Tech for low level positions and their view of their ex-boss was never flattering. But then, she imagined people who were let go at Anfalas had bad things to say about her and her executives.
She’d scalped a few of Ferro’s employees, too, and the word tyrant came up once or twice. And, if she was asked to sum up Ferro Calvaresi, nice guy wouldn’t be her words of choice.
But, neither of them had ever been accused of sexually harassing employees or female tech bloggers, either. Hamlin was a chauvinist pig with a capital oink, in addition to being generally unscrupulous. And if there was one thing she could not stand it was jackass men who thought they were entitled to a woman’s body just because they were men, or because they paid her wages, or whatever lame excuse they came up with to justify their behavior.
So, yeah, for that? She wanted Hamlin to fry. But she wasn’t going to come off as too eager to Ferro, either.
“The fact that you have to ask proves that you aren’t very familiar with Hamlin.”
“I’m pretty familiar with you and I’m not especially fond of you.” She looked down at her watch. An extravagant, custom-made piece with her patented OnePhone interface