Page 5 of Accidental Encounters

4 Rhea

“You look scrumptious tonight, Rhea.”

I tensed as Rodger’s fingers splayed over the low back of my otherwise modest gown.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

His putrid breath assaulted my nose as he leaned down to say, “I want to speak with you about some personal matters.”

I drew in a safe breath with my mouth and focused on the tulle around the mermaid tail of my shimmering, golden dress as I thought of a way out of this encounter. “This is a work event.”

I lifted my gaze and gestured around the room. When my eyes landed on a pair of broad shoulders in an elegant tux, I felt the breath leave my lungs. Rushing back into my body were all the aches and needs I had worked hard all week to ignore—or to deal with quickly and move on.

What is Karter doing here?

Of course, the answer was obvious. He was also wooing Mr. Fields. I stiffened and set my half empty drink down on the bistro table. Karter was my kill and if my father caught wind of his presence, it would destroy my chances to take down a Livingston and to bring a signed bill of sale from WRX Distribution.

Rodger had been yammering about something, and his hand remained on the small of my back. I turned to him, his words having just registered. “No. I am not interested in you like that.” It was blunt, but it was the truth. “We work together, and when my father retires and I take his seat, I would like our relationship to continue to be professional—we have always seen you as an asset to the company, Rodger. But there will be nothing more between us.”

Ignoring the anger I saw brewing in the beady eyes of the President of Operations at Cirillo INC., my gaze flicked across the room again. I might have to endure Rodger’s presence since my father had seen fit to bring his protégé along for this business trip, but that didn’t mean I had to remain with the fool all night. I made a move to leave when Rodger’s clammy fingers gripped my wrist and gave me a tug.

“He wants a son, Rhea. You will not succeed your father—your husband will.”

Taking in his receding hairline and beginnings of a beer gut, I refused to let the words send a shiver down my spine. Forcefully swallowing my repulsion at his suggestion, I snapped, “I have to go mingle. I’m carving a place for our business in this town and social events like these ought not to be wasted.”

I pushed away from the ass, who presumed too much, and snatched my drink off the table at the last second to have something to hold in my shaking hands. Unable to admit that Rodger’s words had bothered me, I tried not to dwell on what he had implied. Yes, my traditional father had been thrilled to let his daughter attend business school and come back to work for the family company. But if I wanted to be treated as an equal at the table, I needed to earn that right.

And bringing down a Livingston was one sure fire way to make my mark. Furthermore, it would make ambitious sleaze bags like Rodger think twice about wooing their way to the top. I took a long sip and drained the flute of champagne. Thankfully, it was a dryer vintage and went down smoothly enough.

I shook off the emotions Rodger had evoked and kept my eye focused on the prize. Speaking to a couple looking at a blotchy oil painting, I threw another glance at the raven-haired male examining the portrait of a disfigured being to my left.

Karter looked right back at me. And smirked.

Biting down on my bottom lip, I nodded to the elderly couple and cooed that it was so pleasant to make their acquaintances as well, and that I would be sure to join them at the club sometime for lunch to discuss post-modern art. When they left, my eyes darted around searching for another prospect with whom to socialize and network.

A waiter brought by another tray of drinks, and suddenly a large hand swooped to collect two and present one to me. Shaking my head, I chuckled. “I already had one, Mr. Livingston. That is enough for me.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing, Pint Size.” Karter drawled and began to walk away while still facing me.

In fact, I knew quite well what I was missing. The buzzing in my brain had already begun and I gave my head a little shake to clear it.

“You disagree?” Karter challenged.

“No, it’s just…” I paused. My fingers felt numb and my legs were turning into lead. “I need to get away from these expensive pieces of colorful throw-up, before I crash into one.”

Next thing I knew, Karter’s firm grip had me by the upper arm and was guiding me past the last display of paintings in this row to a hallway marked for employees only. Once he pushed me inside, he released his grip, but stayed close by.

The room was definitely spinning, so I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose. “I’m fine, really.” I tried to sound as reassuring. “I just drank the glass too quickly.”

“If you say so,” he chuckled. “By the way, you won’t get Xavier with this little stunt of buying him a painting.”

Well if that wasn’t a loaded challenge. “What makes you so sure?” I bristled, glaring up at him from under my eye lashes.

“Xavier can’t be bought with cheap gifts,” he teased.

I scoffed, “It was anything but cheap!”

“Ah, but what you haven’t realized yet, Pint Size,” Karter crossed his arms and leaned against the opposite wall, “is that Xavier likes bold jesters that show how big your stones are…and my dear, my stones are much bigger than yours.”

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