Page 9 of Mending Our Chance

4 Felicity

I knew the suits were an expensive gamble. I could see that Marcus knew that too. Why else would he come back and confront me in the lobby? It wasn’t like he cared about my feelings. No, it was obvious that I had pressed on a sore spot: cash flow. And it had been a risk I had taken to gain information as well as improve the face of his company. Why Marcus wasn’t using his family’s money was still a mystery. His email had only shown the statements from their accounts and their debt load. A big boy forging his own path was somewhat admirable, but if he had the trust fund, why not use it? It didn’t matter; we were set to land a client and secure some income.

But damn, the suits had been the right call, especially when I showed up three days later. Marcus was already in his private office, phone pressed to his ear, but he wasn’t sitting. He was pacing the short length of his personal space. I stopped dead in my tracks as sparks fired through my core. He looked so delectable. A uniform could do that, and I was a sucker for this ex-military man.

When those deep blue eyes, the color of a lapis stone, snapped up to look at me, he froze. I felt my chest grow tight as desire pooled inside me. It would take only a moment to rush across that too small space and grab a fistful of that beautiful, cerulean colored tie and bring his mouth down to mine. Closing my eyes, I tried to remember how I was supposed to feel about him. My mind screamed at me to treat this man as a dangerous coward even as my body fought against that accusation.

A nasally voice broke the silence. “You like my new threads, Ms. Saccone?”

Snapping back to reality, I opened my eyes and turned to face Harold. The way the dummy butchered the ‘nomen gentilicium’ that I was using as my professional name was torture to my ears. Pushing past my already grated nerves, I remarked, “The color of the tie is suitable.” The tie was army green to bring out the flecks in his dull, hazel eyes. The shirt, however, was already soiled. Choosing not to mention that point, I ground out, “I specifically requested black, not navy, for the suit pants and jacket.”

Dammit, don’t bark at him. He might be a bottom feeder, but he doesn’t deserve your wrath. Direct that at the proper source, why don’t you?

I smiled through gritted teeth, and that seemed enough to satisfy the bumbling developer. I derailed his stammering excuses by saying, “Let’s get to work and then we’ll prep for the client in an hour, okay?”

Settling into my temporary station at the receptionist’s desk, I could feel the weight of this endeavor slamming down onto my shoulders. We really need to hire someone to run the phones and basic stuff. It should have been at the top of my list to bring in an office administrator. I groaned inwardly at everything there was at the top of my list.But this was truly an important task that needed to be addressed. The receptionist also needed to be administrative assistant material. I couldn’t hire just any old, minimum wage, phone answerer. Deciding that I’d prepare that advert later in the day, I turned to focusing on the things I could take control of right now.

Those bags under Marcus’ eyes came unbidden to my mind. What was keeping him up at night? But then my worry was soon replaced with lust, white hot and earth shattering. I could be the reason he was up all night. He is not someone you want to hop back into bed with, I scolded myself. However, my lady parts grew excited at the thought; they fairly tingled in anticipation. Clearly he still parties hard and doesn’t sleep because he’s fucking everything that breathes. What else could those dark circles under his eyes mean? I used to be one of those girls, after all. Now I knew better.

The other part of my mind jumped in at that point with the reminder that I was the one who had tamed him. He had never cheated on me, one small blessing in the history book of tragedy. If we tried again—and that was an impossible ‘if’—we would have to last. And that was just not a position I wanted to be in again no matter how good I knew it would be to connect with him on a baser, physical level.

“It’s time to get to work,” I muttered to myself. “Enough reminiscing on the past.”

An hour after my arrival at AVIAF Tech., I found myself in the conference room prepping Marcus and Harold. Today we were landing a client. We now had a proper—albeit cheap—conference table, and I was mentally running through the spread I would provide as far as beverages and tidbits to nibble on would go.

We needed this to work. It was imperative that we nail this deal.

“Mr. Graceson, pay attention,” I barked. I didn’t look at the man in the dark navy suit. I was still pissed off that he couldn’t follow directions and grab a fucking black one. I told myself I was going to let it go, but given his annoying behavior, I kept going back to all his shortcomings. “We are not taking the client to a meal. It’s a good suggestion, but this has to be finalized today: here and now.”

A strong hand across the table made a move. I had to catch myself before my eyes traveled up the length of that muscled forearm to look at Marcus. Focusing on his hand, flexing and fisting, was bad enough. It told me that he was just as annoyed with his developer as I was. If only we could meet the potential client without Harold. But not only was that bad business, it would also mean that I would need to spend time alone with Marcus—something that had to be avoided at all costs. And to have him across the table from me, right at this moment, was torment enough, especially when my conflicted feelings and tangled memories kept interfering with the present.

“All you have to do is rehearse the points for the presentation that I have already prepared,” I reminded Harold as I slapped my open palm onto the table. “Look, it will be nearly impossible to screw this up. I have already done all the leg work.”

My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe it. Harold was on his phone, no doubt playing Fortnite—his favorite distraction. I opened my eyes wide and glared at Marcus. It wasn’t Marcus’ fault, but dammit, Harold needed to understand the seriousness of the situation. I silently conveyed that he needed to get a grip on his partner. Those midnight blue eyes flashed back at me, and whether they held promise or a warning, I didn’t know.

“Harold, phone down.” Marcus broke our gaze to get a handle on his partner. “She has the script, the PowerPoint, everything is done. This is what we need. Quit sulking about your five-star restaurant idea.”

So, Marcus had noticed all my hard work. Despite my resolve to be aloof and impersonal, I was thrilled. I had done the work of an assistant, a public relations department, and even some of the legal work, but the bones of the presentation and the reeling in of the clients were why I was in the major league. And the knowing look in Marcus’ eyes told me he understood I had done the impossible in just a handful of days.

I didn’t give him the chance to rekindle our gaze. Dropping my eyes, I stared blankly at the papers in my lap and chewed my bottom lip. I was still mad at him. He had never tried with us—just said it wasn’t going to work and left. It was a mantra running through my head in order to keep my wrath focused on Marcus. We fucked, he left. I didn’t mean anything to him. Nothing has changed.

~*~

The introductions with the clients went incredibly well, except that Marcus was too close—physically standing in my bubble. I could feel the heat rolling off him, and there was that faint scent that was uniquely Marcus. His smell dredged up all kinds of memories. My tongue remembered the salty, smooth taste of his skin on those beaches in California, and I forgot how to breathe in that New York City office building.

His fingers brushed my upper arm as he reached to shake hands with one of the men, and I shivered, breaking the spell.

“Cold, Ms. Saccone?” Mr. Stonewell asked with a smile.

I would have stepped away from Marcus, but we needed a united front. In a matter of moments we would be sitting on the same side of the table, just as we had rehearsed. I also knew that inching to the right would mean that I would be closer to Harold. Marcus’ imposing presence might ignite every sensation in my body and cause havoc with my emotions, but it did not give me the hibijibis like his developer did.

“Just a small chill, Mr. Stonewell,” I returned smoothly with a smile as I ushered them into the conference room. As the presentation began, I clamped down on my hormone driven body. Channeling all my energy into the next half hour was my main goal. And it was incredibly successful—until Marcus went off script.

Marcus was sitting tall and straight in his chair. But when he got going, he leaned forward and really worked the client over. I could see the rapture on their faces as they spoke with him. Marcus had a way with people; there was no doubt about it.

But I was pissed. This was my plan and he was taking charge. These were not the points he was supposed to bring up. Hell, I didn’t even know about the portfolio of ideas that Marcus was waxing on about. They shouldn’t be used as lures either, not for any client, because it was too easy for them to be stolen.

Why work so hard to get me here if you are only going to toss me aside and not play by my rules? I fumed. Finally, I reached under the table and pinched his thigh. Marcus didn’t even jerk, but his hand reached back, moments later, and pinched me back. It wasn’t painful, but it sent a volt of electricity through me. Pissed at my body’s traitorous reaction, I kicked him back. Hard.

---