Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
In which Ocean joins me for a business meeting and I end up with a badly timed erection.
I sipped my cappuccino, scrolling through my emails on my phone. I had already texted my parents that I had arrived safely the night before, but I made a mental note to call my mom sometime today. She loved it when I checked in regularly.
Across the table, Ocean lounged in his chair, barefoot and shirtless, golden skin glowing. Despite our nap, we’d slept well last night. I was still a little heavy in my head, but if that was the worst of the jet lag, I wouldn’t complain.
“So, what’s on your schedule for today?” Ocean asked, stretching languidly.
I set down my cup. “I’ve got my first in-person meeting with the Krause Group. They’re the company I’m interested in buying.”
Ocean leaned forward, those mesmerizing blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What’s their deal?”
“They’re a diverse company. High-end men’s clothing, an expensive luggage brand, accessories, that kind of thing. Their current owner wants to retire and doesn’t have children who want to take over, so he wants to sell.”
“So it’s not a hostile takeover.”
“Not at all. I’ve been talking to Garrett Krause for a week or two now, though we were in the exploratory stages. That’s why I wanted to come here and meet him myself.” It wasn’t so much a bald-faced lie as a rather liberal version of the truth, but Ocean didn’t need to know that part.
“Gotcha. So you’re serious about this.”
“They’ll fit my portfolio well. Not all their brands perform equally well, but I can always liquidate those and keep the ones with potential.”
Ocean nodded thoughtfully, studying me. “You need an assistant?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I could come with you as your assistant.”
He wanted to come with me? The thought of Ocean’s dominant presence in the boardroom made my stomach churn. What if he said something in that tone of his and I obeyed instinctively? They’d all realize I was submissive, and I would lose control of the situation. A wave of anxiety crashed over me. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I… I’m not sure if that’s smart.”
Ocean leaned forward, his gaze softening. “I can see you’re worried. But I promise, I’m not here to steal your thunder or embarrass you.”
His perceptiveness startled me. Was I that transparent?
“I’ll be like a fish in the background—silent, observing. You’re the shark in this scenario, okay? I’m just along for the ride.”
I chuckled at his metaphor. “A fish, huh?”
He grinned. “Yeah, maybe a clownfish. Colorful, but not stealing the show. Like Marlin, Nemo’s father…and you can be Bruce the shark.”
Now I snorted. “I think you’re more like Crush the turtle, what with the surfer lingo and all.”
His eyes widened. “I’m surprised you’ve seen Finding Nemo .”
“Are you kidding me? That movie was amazing. My mom and I went to see it in the theater together, and I loved it so much that by now, I must’ve watched it five times at least.”
“I hadn’t pegged you for an animated movie fan.”
I shrugged. “ The Lion King is another favorite of mine. That opening scene always gives me goosebumps.”
“You keep surprising me, Cash. In a good way.”
After that exchange, I found it impossible to say no to him. “You can come, but please, Ocean, you promise you won’t…make waves?” I all but cringed at my own attempt at wordplay.
Ocean’s laugh was warm and genuine. “Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers. “I’ll be on my best behavior. No embarrassing you, no taking over. Just there to support you if you need it.”
I studied his face, searching for any sign of deception. But all I saw was sincerity and a hint of excitement. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Alright, let’s do this. You’ll have to borrow one of my suits.”
As Ocean beamed at me, I wondered if I was making a mistake. Only time would tell.
A few minutes later, I stood in the bedroom, watching as Ocean emerged from the walk-in closet, adjusting the cuffs of one of my Brioni suits—one that was a little too roomy for me after I recently lost some weight. The transformation was startling. Gone was the carefree surfer. In his place stood a man who looked born to wear bespoke tailoring.
“How do I look?” Ocean asked as he smoothed down the lapels.
My throat went dry. The charcoal-gray fabric hugged his lean frame perfectly, accentuating broad shoulders I hadn’t fully appreciated before. The crisp white shirt beneath made his sun-kissed skin glow. “You look…” I swallowed hard, searching for words. “Like you’ve worn suits your whole life.”
Ocean’s face lit up with that megawatt smile. “Really? I feel like I’m playing dress-up.”
I chuckled, moving closer to adjust his tie. “Trust me, you’re pulling it off. You might give me a run for my money in the boardroom.”
As I fixed his collar, I caught a whiff of his cologne, which strangely smelled like him in a way I couldn’t explain. It made my head spin.
“You okay there, Cash?” Ocean’s voice was low, tinged with concern.
I stepped back, trying to regain my composure. “Fine. You clean up well.”
His eyes twinkled. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve got hidden depths, you know.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
The drive to the Krause Group’s office was a blur of anticipation and stolen glances at Ocean. He gazed out the window, taking in the city with a soft smile.
As we pulled up to the sleek glass building that housed Krause’s headquarters, I felt a familiar surge of adrenaline. This was my element.
“Wow,” Ocean breathed, craning his neck to take in the full height of the structure. “It’s like a wave frozen in time.”
I smiled at his poetic description. “Ready to ride it?”
He grinned back. “Lead the way, boss.”
We strode through the revolving doors, our footsteps echoing on polished marble. The lobby was a testament to modern design, all clean lines and abstract art. The receptionist welcomed us, and we didn’t even have to wait a minute before an older man came to meet us. His handshake was firm. “Garrett Krause. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Likewise. And please, call me Cash. This is Palmer, my assistant.”
I figured it was safer to use his legal first name, fearing his nickname would stand out too much. Ocean shook Garrett’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Krause.”
Ocean stayed a step behind us as Garrett led me through the hallways. “I have to admit, I was surprised when your personal assistant informed me you were traveling to Australia. That’s quite the effort you’re making.”
Crap. I hadn’t even considered Garrett would voice his surprise. What was Ocean thinking now? “If nothing else, it tells you how interested I am in buying your company.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” Garrett opened a door, ushering us into a conference room where another man was seated. He immediately rose to greet me. “James Dobler. I’m the CFO of the Krause Group.”
I shook his hand and introduced myself, then Ocean. We settled into the comfortable leather chairs and exchanged pleasantries while an assistant brought us fancy coffees and some type of cookies I’d never seen before.
“They’re Tim Tams,” Garrett said. “Classic Australian biscuits or, as you’d call them, cookies. We thought you might like to try them.”
They were good, and Ocean’s face lit up with enjoyment as well.
“We’d like to start with a presentation of our company and our numbers,” James said, and he fired up his laptop.
His slides were clear and informative, giving me exactly the financial information I was looking for. They had a healthy cash balance, no considerable debt, and for the most part, their brands made a healthy profit.
“Your luxury menswear line has shown impressive growth,” I observed, tapping my pen against the polished table. “What’s driving that success?”
Garrett nodded, clearly pleased by my interest. “We’ve focused on quality craftsmanship and exclusivity, as well as sustainability and pride in the fact that all our clothes are made in Australia. Our customers are willing to pay a premium for that.”
“And the profit margins?”
“Consistently above thirty percent,” James said.
As they delved deeper into the numbers, I felt a familiar thrill. This was my element—parsing through data, identifying opportunities. I glanced at Ocean, expecting to see boredom, but I found him listening intently, his eyes sharp and focused.
“What about your marketing strategy?” I probed. “How are you reaching new demographics?”
The conversation flowed, my questions growing more pointed. I was impressed by their responses, but we weren’t done yet.
Then Garrett cleared his throat, his enthusiasm faltering slightly. “There is one area where we’re facing challenges.”
“Wavey,” James said, his tone more serious now. “It’s our brand for everything a serious surfer could need, from wet suits, boardies, and booties to surfboards and wax.”
I leaned back. “Ah yes, I noticed the numbers weren’t quite as robust there. What’s the issue?”
Garrett sighed. “I got into it because my twin boys were into surfing. When they were past the beginner stage and needed better boards, I was shocked at the prices and decided to see if I could make them myself. That got the ball rolling and everything developed from there. But it’s always been a bit of a side project for me, a hobby that got out of hand.”
“We have a hard time with the marketing,” James explained. “We’ve tried various approaches, but none have worked so far.”
He launched into an explanation about market saturation and fierce competition, but my attention drifted to Ocean. His posture had changed, a subtle tension in his shoulders. I could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. No wonder, as a surfer, this was right up his alley.
“Have you considered selling or liquidating that segment?” I asked casually, more to gauge their reaction than anything else.
The executives exchanged glances, clearly caught off guard. “We hadn’t seriously considered it,” James admitted.
I nodded, about to press further, when I felt a gentle nudge against my arm and glanced down to see Ocean sliding a folded piece of paper toward me. My eyebrows shot up in surprise as I discreetly unfolded it under the table.
In Ocean’s flowing script, the note read: May I offer my thoughts ?
His eyes met mine, a silent question in their depths. I hesitated, torn between my instinct to maintain control and my growing curiosity about what insights he might offer.
“Actually,” I heard myself say, “my assistant might have some thoughts on the matter. He’s an avid surfer, so I’d love to hear his opinion.”
“So would I,” Garrett said, his face showing curiosity.
As all eyes turned to Ocean, I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t made a colossal mistake.
Ocean leaned forward. “The pricing strategy is wrong. I’ve been a surfer since I was a teenager, and I can tell you that serious surfers—the ones who live and breathe the ocean—are used to paying premium prices for high-quality gear. They want stuff that can handle the gnarliest conditions and they’re willing to pay for that. Wavey is too cheap to be considered a premium brand but too expensive for beginners.”
James leaned back, tapping his pen against his lips. “You’re saying we need to reposition the brand.”
“I’ve used Wavey boards, and they’re amazing, but I would’ve never tried them because of the price. For that amount, I wouldn’t have expected the kind of quality I demand. I only tested them because one of my boards broke and I borrowed a Wavey board from a friend. I loved it from the get-go. But I’m your target customer, and I’m telling you that you need to raise your prices. You have to decide whether you want to be premium and appeal to the pros or if you want to be affordable and cater to the serious beginners.”
I watched in amazement as Ocean effortlessly commanded the room’s attention, his passion for the subject evident in every word.
“You’re saying there’s nothing wrong with the boards themselves?” Garrett asked.
Ocean shrugged. “I don’t think you need the flashy designs of the latest models. I would focus on durability and performance. Partner with local surf shops, sponsor up-and-coming surfers. Make Wavey the brand for pros, one that understands the soul of surfing, not just its image.”
As Ocean continued to elaborate, pride filled me. Ocean should’ve been out of his element in a board room, but here he was, effortlessly navigating the choppy waters of a business discussion he had no experience in. I couldn’t deny the brilliance of his insights or the way the Krause executives hung on his every word.
It was hot.
Never in my entire life had I been aroused by intelligence or competence, but my cock was definitely hardening now, watching him. Then again, that could also be because my brain was helpfully supplying memories of me sucking his cock, of him fucking my mouth. I shifted in my seat. Ocean’s confidence, his easy charm, the way he so effortlessly bossed me around—it was all combining into a heady mix that threatened to overwhelm me.
Of course, my timing was bad, to say the least. My suit was tailor-made for me and left no room to hide a hard-on. How the hell was I going to get up without showing everyone how turned on I was?
“That’s quite the remarkable insight, Palmer,” Garrett said, leaning back in his chair with a pensive look. “I must say, we hadn’t considered that angle before. Your firsthand experience brings a fresh perspective to the table.”
I nodded, glad I could focus on something else. “I agree, and it definitely offers possibilities to transform Wavey into a profitable brand. I have enough information for now, but I’d like to come back tomorrow and go through your accounting in more detail.”
“Absolutely,” James said. “I won’t be here as my wife is unfortunately having surgery, but Mitchell, my right-hand man, will be available to go over everything with you and answer any questions you might have.”
“Sounds good. And good luck to your wife on the surgery.”
For a moment, James’s professional mask fell and he showed vulnerability. “Thank you. She had breast cancer that returned, so hopefully, they will get it all this time.”
My heart went out to him. My mom battled breast cancer when she was sixty-one, and it had been awful to see her struggle. She was one of the lucky ones who made it through, but the terror was real. “I hope so too.”
On the plus side, that had taken care of my erection, so at least I could stand without embarrassing myself.
When we were outside again, our driver waiting for us, I turned to Ocean. “That was unexpected. And impressive,” I admitted, my voice low and husky.
Ocean’s lips curled into a smile. “Thank you. So were you.”
“Yeah?”
He straightened my tie that didn’t need straightening. “You were hot in there. I wanted to bend you over that gleaming table and fuck the living daylights out of you, then leave you there with your pants around your ankles and my cum dripping out of your ass.”
I inhaled sharply, then coughed as I all but choked on my own breath. “Jesus, Ocean, you can’t say things like that in public.”
He bent in and brought his mouth close to my ear. “I’m pretty sure I just did. Now let’s go back to the hotel so I can find a suitable surface to bend you over and fuck you.”