Chapter 4 #2
Layton Oil is ranked second, but who’s first? I know Dayna got through this round. I know it. And I can only guess Persian Fuels would have made the cut. Caspar Kahn is the most connected man in Middle Eastern oil. He wouldn’t have missed out on a top three placement.
Second-round bids have to be submitted by midnight Arabia Standard Time on Friday, a week today.
But I don’t know who I’m trying to outbid, and the options are very different.
If Dayna is top, I can only imagine she maxed out her budget to hit that rank.
She’s making a year-on-year increase in profit, but that still doesn’t give SP the fortunes of Persian Fuels or Layton Oil.
If it’s Caspar, well, I might already be fighting a losing battle.
He has money. He has power over there. And he certainly has a wicked competitive streak.
He’s declared he wants something. He’ll stop at nothing to get it. He’s dangerous.
I’ll speak to Teddy and get him to set up a meeting to discuss finances. I need to know how much money I have left in the tank. An alternative bid would be an option, except I can’t think of a bloody alternative.
I want this well. I’m going to show my father that I can make money. That I deserve to be in control of his legacy. And for some unknown reason, a part of me wants to make him proud.
I drop my hands back over my head and just lie. Still. Not thinking about Connie or Layton Oil and trying desperately not to think of the woman two floors up who apparently hates that I breathe the same air she does.
The door to the room opens, and Spencer bursts through. ‘Clark, let’s go, let’s hit the slopes.’
I stretch my full body, my feet hanging off the bed. As I do, Spencer lands a fist in my ribs. ‘You’re wasting time.’
Lunging forwards, I grab him into a headlock.
‘I’m bigger than you in every way, little man, and the only reason I’m not going to kick your arse right now is that I intend to give you a damn good beating on the slopes.
’ But for good measure, I drill my knuckles into his scalp until he waves the proverbial white flag.
I pull on a jumper as we head to the lounge, where Dayna is hugging Amy, then Tim and Matty.
‘I love it,’ she says as she dangles a thin silver necklace in the air.
‘You really shouldn’t have.’ I lean a shoulder against the wall and give myself a moment of pure pleasure, indulging in the sight of her lips pulled wide in a smile that makes her irises sparkle.
She hands the necklace to Matty and bends her head forwards, pulling her long hair across one shoulder. Envy churns my gut as he fastens the necklace around her. I wish I was him, his fingers, and I wish she’d be that comfortable under my touch again.
‘You were supposed to get married days ago.’
Spencer stands beside me, but I don’t move my attention from Dayna. ‘I know,’ I say.
He pats my shoulder as he moves towards the others. ‘It suits you,’ he says to Dayna, all charming and confident as hell. Damn him.
Teddy and Yvette come down the stairs. ‘Right. Are we heading out?’
Dayna catches me lost in appreciation. She holds my stare just long enough for me to feel a ludicrous flicker of hope. ‘I’m in,’ she says. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Off-piste?’ I ask, walking into the group.
‘Yvette wants to break herself in today so we’ll stay on the blues this afternoon,’ Teddy says.
‘Mmm, yep, me too,’ Rachel adds, followed with similar sentiment from Amy.
The other men rise to the challenge. That doesn’t surprise me. Tim and Matty are big guys, butch. They won’t shy away from a tough run. Spencer’s a fearless rogue and, to be fair, shit-hot on his board, so I don’t need his confirmation.
That leaves one. Turning to her, I say, ‘I take it you’ll be on the baby slopes, too?’
I think I meant to tick her off, just the way she can touch a nerve in me.
So when Dayna mirrors my pose – shoulders back, legs hip-width apart – and wears a look that could turn a man to stone, I expect nothing less than a sassy retort.
‘Because women are weak, right, Clark? Not strong enough to play in a man’s world? ’
She’s digging at me because she loathes the entire male-dominated oil industry. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s still in it.
But damn, she. Is. So. Fucking. Hot. Hating on me. I instinctively take a step towards her. She holds her ground, unflinching. ‘Prove me wrong.’
‘That’s what you want to do? You want to provoke me?’
Oh, you have no idea. She takes a step closer, and I can’t deny the way she makes my pulse jump, the way the air between us shifts, thickens with unresolved tension of every kind.
‘I’m in for whatever you want to throw at me, Layton, and I’ll give you a damn good run for your money.’
Layton. This isn’t just about the ski. This is about everything: how I hurt her, that I turned up here. Oil. ‘Oh I hope so, Cross.’
She leans in towards my neck, and I hold the air in my lungs. One nose full of her and I’ll be putty. ‘I’m not the sweet girl you walked all over.’ Her breath heats my flesh.