CHAPTER 30
Cal
As much as I’m enjoying this negotiation, it’s taking longer than I’d assumed, so I step outside to make a few calls. I return to see that she’s still at it, wearing them down, using tactical maneuvers and smarts to take what she wants before they even realize that she’s taken it from them.
When I come back through the conference room door, one dude flashes his eyes to mine in a near panic, but he quickly looks away.
I almost feel sorry for him. It’s shaping up to be a smackdown of epic proportions.
For each of the four men sitting opposite Victoria Backlund, this may go down as one of the worst days of their careers.
I suppress my smile.
She’s been magnificent this whole meeting.
All I’ve had to do is sit back and let it unfold.
I knew the second that Victoria opened her mouth, we would have the upper hand.
Scratch that—I knew before she’d said a word.
Because she walked in the door and held out her hand for a professional shake, and every one of them looked dumbstruck.
She’s wearing a pale green lightweight wool business suit today. It’s modest but perfectly tailored to her body. Her hair is shiny and swept over one shoulder, simple but stunning. Subtle 18-karat gold sparkles at her neck, ears, and wrist.
The necklaces are quite plain, though. She doesn’t need bling, but something a bit more personal would suit her better. I’ll have to see what I can do to fix that.
If she’ll let me.
Hours have passed since that initial display of bulging eyes and dropped jaws. The men in drab suits soon recovered their composure and settled in for a brutal back-and-forth.
I’ve watched Victoria smile politely, listen attentively, and ask all the right questions. And then bury them in their own unforced errors.
I like this girl’s style.
“I’m not at all certain that language will be acceptable to my client,” one of her counterparts says.
“I hear what you’re saying.” Her voice, kind but firm. “However, I would like to remind you that your team has already approved that language as used in Section seven, Mutuality Terms and Conditions, which begins in the third paragraph of page forty-nine.”
Is it wrong that I’m turned on by how handily she’s kicking ass?
Her substantial Yale MBA expertise aside, it seems Victoria’s secret weapon is how relaxed and easy-going she is at the negotiating table, even when the stakes are high.
She’s handling her combatants with grace. Killing them with competency.
I might even go so far as to say that she’s a “people person.” That’s one of my all-time-most-hated expressions. I guess it’s because I’m more of an explosives person, myself.
She’s both.
It’s true that business negotiations can be a lot like the battlefield. Today, it’s been a pleasure watching as the truth slowly dawns on these men. That Victoria Backlund’s strike impact perimeter might be a lot wider than they anticipated.
Ka-boom, bitches.
I just hang back, relaxing in my armchair off in the corner of the conference room. I sip my designer water and enjoy the view of the Bay. I wait for her opponents to surrender.
It takes just another half hour.
We thank everyone for their time and head for the elevators. Victoria stands next to me, briefcase held at her front. A sly smile spreads across her pretty face.
“You rock, Backlund.”
She nods slowly, then delivers some of the best side-eye I’ve ever seen. “You have no idea.”
I laugh and squeeze her hand, wondering if that was blatant innuendo. If it was, then the next five minutes could go pretty smoothly. If I’m misreading her, it could get ugly.
We exit the revolving doors and stand on the Embarcadero sidewalk. I see the shiny black Town Car at the curb.
“Victoria, I have an idea.”
Actually, it’s more like a plan that’s already in motion. I told Declan the meeting was running late, and that he should pick us up in the morning. But I’m not sure how she’ll react to my efforts. She could think it’s hot. She could think I’m an ass.
She looks up at me, one eyebrow arched. “And what idea is that?”
“It’s already late. What do you say we just spend the night in town, maybe grab some dinner.”
I see the gears turning in that brilliant, beautiful head of hers. She misses nothing. She’s certainly aware of what I’m suggesting.
“All right,” she says matter-of-factly. “Let me call Millicent and see if she can get us—”
“No need.” I step to the car and open the back door for her. “Hop in.”
She’s quiet on the ride. She asks exactly zero questions about what I have planned. I think she likes not knowing. It probably doesn’t happen a lot in her life. She probably doesn’t allow it to happen.
“I didn’t bring anything to change into,” she says, almost to herself. She stares out the window at the evening city lights and early sunset.
“I’ve taken care of that, too.”
If all goes right, clothes won’t be needed. But I believe in being prepared.
The car pulls up to the castle-like Fairmont Hotel. I hold the door for Victoria, and almost immediately, we’re greeted by the concierge.
“Mr. MacLaine. So good to see you again.”
“Thank you, Massi. It’s good to see you, too. How’s your daughter? Is she enjoying Stanford?”
“Oh, yes! Thank you for asking.”
I place a hand on the small of Victoria’s back. It’s a territorial move, I know. But she doesn’t pull away. Another good sign.
“Massi, this is my business associate, Victoria Backlund.”
“A pleasure, Ms. Backlund. Kindly follow me.”
Massi escorts us past the front desk and to a private bank of elevators at the end of a long marble hallway.
He uses a key to unlock the mechanism, then holds open the brass double doors for us to enter.
“I believe you’ll find everything to your liking, Mr. MacLaine.
Should you need anything at all, you have my private number. ”
“I do. Appreciate it.”
The doors close. We’re alone in an elevator again.
“How far in advance did you plan all this?”
I chuckle. “When you first grabbed those poor bastards by the short hairs over the terms and conditions, I realized we’d be here a while.”
“You’re on a first-name basis with the VIP concierge? Do you come here a lot? And do you usually bring a guest?”
I like these questions. I look over to see she’s staring straight ahead at the shiny brass doors, but her pulse is pounding against the skin of her throat. I like that, too.
“I stay here fairly often. And I rarely travel alone. Does that make you jealous?”
Her head swings around. She looks up at me with eyes that make it clear she’s in no mood for my bullshit. So I finish my thought.
“The last person I brought with me was a wild one, no doubt about it. Six-six, two fifty, no social skills. Smells bad sometimes, too. But Special K seemed to enjoy himself.”
Ding!
“We’re here. After you.”
I know it’s going to be difficult to impress Victoria. She flew into Sweetbriar in a jet that costs more than a Malibu mansion, after all. She’s had a lot of luxury in her life.
It’s a crapshoot whether she’ll appreciate the Old-World allure of this vintage suite, with its over-the-top Moroccan tiled balcony, its two-story library, billiard room, kitchen, and impeccable French antique furnishings. It may be too quirky for her tastes.
“Holy shit, Cal.” She tosses her briefcase and bag onto the foyer table, crosses the richly carpeted floor of the Fairmont’s Penthouse Suite living room, and heads directly to the private balcony.
I follow, ditching my suit jacket and tie on the way.
She lets out a hoot of laughter and twirls around, her hair flying.
“This is absolutely spectacular!” She turns to me, her smile playful and her eyes sparkling.
She’s right.
Spectacular.
And mine for the night.
“But,” she scowls. “How many—”
“Four bedrooms. Four baths. Two wings in 6,000 square feet.”
That divot appears between her brows. “And which bedroom is mine?”
“That’s up to you. I asked Massi and his team to prepare the main bedroom for you, but if you don’t like it, you can choose another. Or all of them. Just so long as you enjoy yourself.”
“Cal?” She steps closer, a breeze lifting her hair. “I…”
“That same rule applies to us, to you and me. You can have anything you want. Or you can have nothing at all. You can change your mind at any time. But you need to know something.”
She bites her bottom lip.
“I have a lot of pent-up lust I plan to take out on you, when you’re ready.”
Victoria comes right up to me. I feel the heat from her body. She looks into my eyes and begins to unbutton her suit jacket. I watch her slender fingers move, slowly revealing the creamy tops of her incredible breasts and a lacy bra that looks too skimpy for the job.
“You want me, Cal?”
I grit my teeth.
Her fingers keep going. I see more taught flesh revealed. Under her ribs, on her belly, down to the waistband of her skirt. Her skin is a soft peach, satiny, and I can’t fucking wait to drag my tongue over every inch of her.
I think of the way she handled those men in the conference room. How she played them, took them down. And for just an instant, I wonder if that’s what’s happening here, and I’m just another dumb sonofabitch who’s fallen into her trap.
I don’t even fucking care.
She slides a hand into the front of her skirt and throws back her head.
That’s it.
It’s on.
I grab her. Lift her, my hand under her ass. She moans in pleasure as I carry her to the closest flat surface I can find, which happens to be the antique pool table. I sweep my arm over the felt and the balls crash to the floor.
“Fuck me.” Her whisper is hoarse, needy. “Please, Cal.”