Steel (Missoula Hotshots #3)

Chapter 1

Violet

“What do you think?” Brenda asked as she crowded my space at the window, her face pressed on the glass window overlooking Eric’s office. “Should we both start looking for another job?”

Maybe, but I wasn’t ready to concede just yet.

“Well, since he still has his blinds open, he’s not considering terminating the entire team.

” While the statement was casual, devoid of emotion, if anyone were to peel away the layers of clothing, they’d notice my stomach was eager and willing to jump out of my skin. Forget a single knot. I had dozens.

Eric Dannon was a tough-as-nails boss, the kind you didn’t want to cross, but often had wishful thoughts of finding him in a dark alley while wearing a mask and carrying a spiked bat.

He was also brilliant in the world of marketing, singlehandedly transforming Brightworks Enterprises into an international contender.

Not without making us crazy in the process.

Our claim to fame? Specialized calendars in several sexy genres.

They were still all the rage, although the competition was tight, soon to be suffocating.

The men and women of the creative team I led were all brilliant, creative, and a little bit wild.

Thankfully, their inventive imaginations had provided the heavy spark needed over the last four years so that sales had been decent.

At least good enough to keep our jobs. But the heavy competition had taken a toll on everyone’s electric verve. In other words, this year, the three weeks of long, brutal hours spent locked together in our ‘fantasy room’ had churned out lackluster ideas.

Plus, Eric and the other investors had spent a small fortune purchasing the company and were looking for more than just a decent return.

We’d taken the best of our ideas and put together a campaign, complete with a mockup using our best models. However, the theme of sizzling mechanics just didn’t leave me with a deep core throbbing in my pussy. That alone was my indication when a campaign had hit on all pistons.

No pun intended.

I’d been creative director, model wrangler, pastry baker, and overall mother hen to a bunch of men who could barely wipe their ass. At this point I was fed up with men in general. That wouldn’t bode well for whatever critique Eric had for us.

Maybe we were all burned out, in need of a long vacation with a bottomless frosty beverage and a waitstaff eager to fulfill all our raunchiest desires. I know I was. That wasn’t going to happen, not this century anyway.

“I think he looks bored,” I finally answered, which was the truth. Since the day Eric had introduced himself in his ten-thousand-dollar suit and fifty-thousand-dollar watch, he’d demanded perfection.

Brenda sagged. She was my rock, the woman who kept me fueled with mainlined chocolate raspberry coffee, handling my emotional breakdowns and keeping me on track so I wouldn’t forget important appointments. In my eyes, she was the most important member of the team.

Whom I suddenly felt most if not all crowding around me like sharks after fresh bait was dropped into the ocean. While Eric’s office was across the room, every one of us had the eyes of a hawk. Maybe because the man could make our lives miserable.

“Not just bored,” Greg said with a heavy sigh. “As if he’s ready to find his next victim.”

“You mean his next blood infusion,” Debbie added, her rabid growl as terrifying as Eric’s mood swings.

The standing joke was that Eric was a vampire, eager to drain our blood one at a time.

A crunching sound drew my attention. Mark was standing inches away chomping loudly on a bright red apple and all I could think about was Snow White.

“Okay, that’s enough. We still have work to do.” The calendar in question wasn’t the only one we’d been tasked to create. It was simply the true moneymaker.

The collective groan brought me a smile as they dispersed.

But it was short lived when Eric tossed the file I’d placed in his hand personally onto his desk followed by leaning over the same artistic mahogany piece he’d purchased in Italy.

“Uh-oh,” Brenda whispered. “Would you like a little Irish cream added to your next cup of coffee?”

“If only I could.” Everyone knew his behavioral tics so well that when I turned away from the window, every creative member on the team had scrambled to hide.

Brenda giggled before walking away. As team leader, I was required to take the brunt of his angry pontifications.

If only I had the nerve and the means of quitting.

All I’d really ever wanted to do was write books.

I even had four of five halfway completed.

But when you had bills to pay, a deadbeat ex with a God complex, and a darling product of a tainted love affair to feed, that didn’t leave room for living in la-la-land. At least not for very long.

Eric finally stormed from his office. He could be considered a good-looking older man were it not for his permanent scowl. I could swear the man hated everyone on Earth, not just within the company.

He was several feet away when he noticed me. “Ms. Livingston. I’d like to see you in my office. Now.” He was a man of few words and a devoted lover of public acts of humiliation.

As soon as he used his long, muscular legs to take him into his office, the entire administrative team forced to witness his curt behavior outwardly cringed. Their wide eyes peered at me as someone would when witnessing an innocent woman facing the gallows.

Maybe my imagination was the one working overtime.

I held my head high as I walked into his office. He was already standing by his window, peering out at downtown Los Angeles with his hands in his pockets. “Close the door, Ms. Livingston.”

I did and remained standing. I’d learned a long time ago not to play the victim or the helpless girl begging from crumbs.

Another game he liked to play, sitting behind his fancy desk and peering down at me.

Not this woman. I’d been through way too much in my life.

I also didn’t bother saying anything. He didn’t enjoy his ‘peaceful mental interlude’ being interrupted.

The dark alley was looking better and better as an option.

“Did you know that when I took over as CEO of this company, the owners were facing bankruptcy?”

“I’d heard rumors,” I told him.

“In less than a year, not only have I managed to turn that around from the red to the black, but as of the end of the first quarter of the year, we were making a healthy profit.”

“That’s excellent news.”

His sigh was exaggerated, the only true expression I’d managed to get from him.

He turned around and as usual and without words scolded me for what I was wearing.

Given he and his wife had a housekeeper, a nanny, and a financial advisor, he didn’t understand there were some mornings I was lucky not to walk out the front door in my pajamas.

I remained strong, refusing to budge under his cold, hard stare.

“I must say that up to this point I have been pleased with you and your team. I was quite concerned in the beginning given the… eclectic nature of the group, but you’ve proven yourself as creative and expeditious, which is why I’ve allowed you to continue your work autonomously.

That is until you brought me the latest campaign.

” Eric moved toward the file, grabbing it carefully.

What was he worried about, that it would catch fire?

Did he want me to agree? He had to be kidding me with leaving us alone. He always had something to say and never anything positive.

It seemed he wanted an ‘atta boy’ for leaving us mostly alone. He wasn’t getting one.

After flipping through the pages, he made a ceremonial moment of tossing it into the trash. Over three weeks of sleepless nights tossed as if rubbish. I bit my tongue and looked away because without doing so, I could easily launch into him with all the fire of a scorned woman.

Perhaps I’d unnerved him by not immediately defending myself. I could almost hear a clock ticking in his head.

“You have nothing to say?” he asked.

Maybe the number of sleepless nights had provided me with a loose lips moment, but I was finished with him trampling on my team every time he had a fight with his wife. “Nothing that you want to hear, Mr. Dannon.”

He moved around the end of the desk, easing down on the edge and folding his arms. “Actually, I’d enjoy hearing exactly what you have to say.”

The man was out of his mind. My tongue was forked. At least that’s what my ex had told me. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I can tell you have something on your mind. Share your thoughts on the campaign and anything else you’d like.”

“Fine. First of all, there is nothing real about the calendars.”

“In what way?”

“We use professional models, not that every one of them aren’t of the highest standards, mind you.

But they’re models, nonetheless. They’ve been taught how to stand.

How to act. How to smile on cue. They don’t care what clothing we shove them into or that it’s six sizes too small.

And in the case of the men in the mechanics of East LA calendar, there isn’t a woman alive who would believe the bullshit.

” When you wound me up, it wasn’t wise to be within ten feet. I was that hot under the collar.

“What bullshit are we discussing?” Eric was clearly amused.

I didn’t hesitate, taking long strides toward the garbage can and grabbing the file, flipping through until I found the main page highlighting all thirteen models. “Do these men really look like mechanics or some fairytale?”

For the first time since I’d met the son of a bitch, he chuckled. “They’re models.”

“That’s my entire point. And not even good models. Women need to feast their eyes on hunks of manhood. Chiseled features and twelve-pack abs, toned muscles kissed by the sun and tight little butts that you just want to squeeze.” I even allowed hand motions, imitating squeezing melons.

He lifted a single eyebrow. “There are twelve-pack abs?”