Page 15 of Last Summer

There was a magnetic vibe about Damien that summoned attention. She wasn’t the only woman captivated by his striking good looks. Heads turned. Eyes trailed him to the bar. Tall and athletic with dark-walnut hair and stormy eyes, Damien was apotheotic. Quite simply, he wasn’t the type of man Ella would let sleep on her couch. He belonged in her bed, assuming she got the chance to have him there.

Davie, golden-blonde hair shimmering as she turned to see what caught Ella’s attention, groaned suggestively. “Wow. Who’s that?”

“Damien Russell. He’s the CEO and founder of Phantom Defense Networks, a private cybersecurity firm out of San Francisco.”

“Oooh. He’s hot, and he’s local.”

“I read an article inForbeslast year that he’s some sort of master business strategist. His intellect is off the charts.”

“Hot and smart? I call bullshit. Men like him don’t exist, unless they’re already married. Is he?”

Ella shook her head. “Divorced, I think. But listen to this. He used to work for his dad, Clyde Russell. Have you heard of him? He owns CyberSeal.”

“Didn’t they recently go public? I think I read something about that in theChronicle.”

“Right. Damien was on track to take over the company after his father retired, but he suddenly up and quit five years ago.”

Davie plucked an olive from her martini. “Why?”

“No one knows exactly. But he immediately launched his own cybersecurity company. It’s speculated that he’d been working on plans while still working for his dad and that he intentionally positioned his firm as a direct competitor.”

“Obviously Clyde Russell never retired. Took his company public instead,” Davie finished for her, chewing on the olive. “Talk about family drama.”

“Seriously.”

Damien had graced plenty of magazine covers, his face splashed across the internet since CyberSeal went public, much to Clyde’s consternation, Ella was sure. She could visualize him poring over a pile of magazines with his son’s image, media coverage that should have been reserved for his company.

But where’s the drama in that? Drama sold, and so did Damien’s face. Plus, Damien had been silent, which only made the media more frenzied for answers.What is Damien’s opinion of his father taking the company public? Does he plan to do the same with PDN?

Not a single reporter had yet been able to get hisrealstory. What a coup it would be forLuxe Avenueif she did.

What she wouldn’t give to have one hour alone with him. Tonight.

She and Davie watched Damien settle on to a recently vacated barstool and order a drink.

“I’m going to introduce myself,” Ella announced, setting down her unfinished gin and tonic.

Davie smirked. “As yourself or as a journalist?”

“If I could get his story...hisrealstory...”

“You’re serious. Now?”

Ella bit into her lower lip and nodded. “Do you mind?”

Davie waved her hand, brushing aside Ella’s question. “Oh, my god, not at all. If I had the chance to talk to a guy like that...” She shook her head. “There are days when I envy you. The people you meet.Luxe Avenuewill put your byline on the cover with that one.” Davie offhandedly wagged a finger in Damien’s direction.

It would be her first cover byline, something she’d been dreaming about sinceLuxe Avenuehired her. That and landing the Senior Features Writer position she’d been vying for. The magazine had a wide female readership. Damien Russell’s face on the cover would be a gold mine of issues sold.

Ella grinned and Davie sighed, but she couldn’t contain the smile that followed. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall, but guess I’ll have to settle for the article. It’s late; I’m turning in.” She finished her cocktail and stood.

Ella rose and hugged her friend. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” she promised.

“You can buy me breakfast. I’d say ‘good luck’ but I don’t think you need it.”

Ella watched Davie sashay toward the elevators and laughed. “You look gorgeous tonight,” she called over the noise of slot machine winnings.

Davie blew her a kiss. Ella sent one back, then turned toward the bar. The patron beside Damien paid his bill and vacated his stool.

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