The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

37. Dangerous Temptations

37

DANGEROUS TEMPTATIONS

Rafe

A week later, I meet with Matthew, Theresa, and some of my other senior VPs in our conference room to review plans for the new campaign. This time, I’m focused and listen to every detail.

“We want to launch the campaign in New York with a fantastic event. We’ll invite influencers, fashion bloggers, and the media,” Matthew says. He clicks a button on his laptop and spins the screen my way.

I stifle a growl. It’s an image of Gunnar’s thirst trap, set against the new branding materials. Are they trying to kill me? “Why are you using that one?” I bite out.

“We’ll have fresh shots. This is just a mockup. Gunnar’s busy with the baseball season, but we’ve secured time next week for promo photos.”

I wince, imagining the photo shoot.

I could see myself walking into that shoot, telling everyone to leave, closing the door, and stealing a few minutes alone with the model. Pressing him against the wall, grinding against him, kissing him until we’re both intoxicated.

I shake those thoughts away. “That all sounds fantastic.”

“We have some projections on how we think the campaign will grow the new line,” Matthew says.

After he shares those, Theresa jumps in. “These trends align with the market research supporting the Bespoke acquisition.”

Matthew hums, twirling a pen in his fingers. “If the deal goes through?—”

“When the deal goes through,” I correct.

He smiles. “ When it does, we’ll have everything in our portfolio for a man’s wardrobe. We can develop a marketing campaign around that.” Matthew’s eyes light up. “ Everything a man needs ,” he muses.

Theresa smiles a little devilishly. “Or perhaps... We dress men all the way .”

Matthew points at her with a smile. “That’s better.”

I smile. “Yes. That’s a winner.”

At last the meeting ends and I go to my office, slam the door, and lock it. Then, I flip open my laptop, feverishly call up the calendar, and check for details for the photo shoot next week.

I stare at the calendar square. It’s a slice of chocolate cake. A glass of fine scotch. A pair of front-row tickets to my favorite concert.

Gunnar will be at the warehouse studio a few miles from here, wearing Rafe Rodman underwear, smiling that sultry smile for the camera, looking all sexy and mine .

I let out a tight breath. I could find an excuse. Hell, I’m the CEO. I don’t need an excuse. I could walk into the studio, say hello, drink in the sight of him.

“Fuck,” I mutter, sinking into my chair and spinning to stare out the window.

Would I seriously do any of those things?

I grit my teeth and shove every scenario away. For the rest of the day, I bury myself in phone calls with business partners and investors. I don’t look at the calendar again until evening rolls around, and even then it’s only to check my schedule.

I’m due in London in a few weeks to see my bankers, who will be overseeing the Bespoke acquisition. Christine needs to go to London soon too. I have promised her some introductions to business associates.

With a harsh breath, I check the dates once more. I don’t have any meetings on the day of the proposed shoot. I’ll just be in the office, thinking of things to inspire me...

I could pull it off. Just nip in, see him, then leave.

My hungry heart clicks open the thirst trap image once more—the first one he sent. The invitation.

Come and get me.

Desire claws at me like it did the first time I saw it. But now, I feel so much more than red-hot physical desire for Gunnar. More than lust.

That’s the problem. I care too deeply for him. And I don’t know what to do about it.