Page 35 of Conflict
“I can’t fucking believe it. I don’t even know this girl, but because of her, I just spent all weekend with your sorry ass instead of chasing some.”
Branson’s comment has me grinning and then reflecting. I run a hand through my hair. “Fuck, man. Looks like we’re in the same boat.” I snap my fingers. “You know what? I blame Grandma Kate. All that Wellington Way bullshit she fed my mom.”
He barks out a laugh. “Your mom bought into it. Amelia? She barely raised us three on that motto. You know it took Dad a year and a whole lot of groveling before she agreed to even go on a second date with him.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m just going to throw myself into work for a while. I don’t need distractions anyway. I have too much on my plate, and with both our dads ready to retire? Everyone’s going to be eagle-eyed where we’re concerned.”
Branson sobers. He places a hand on my shoulder and stares at me. “Hey, we’re a team in this, you know? I need you at the financial helm for this goddamn Filiatrault bullshit as much as anybody. But it goes further than that. When I’m CEO, you’re going to be my right hand. I need you at your A game for as long as you still want to work for the company. In the meantime, we can’t let these girls get into our heads, okay?”
I always thought I’d be Branson’s number two, but he’s never actually confirmed it until now. I’m fucking touched. “Yeah, man, you got it. You can count on me for anything. All I need is a nice long run to get my head on straight.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, you and me both. I’ll be in and out of the city while we’re working on this deal, so I’ll give you a call next time I’m headed back down. Won’t be long.”
“You got it, bro. And remember, you can always crash at my place.”
Half an hour later, I stand outside the high-rise building, staring up as the sun reflects off the windows. Wellsley-Callahan isn’t a building I find myself entering often, but desperate times call for drastic measures.
“Hey, just the man I wanted to see.”
I turn at the sound of the feminine voice. A grin crosses my lips at the sight over my sunglasses: a pretty, petite brunette coming up to my side.
“Somehow, I doubt that’s true,” I tell her.
She laughs, and the sound is musical. No wonder Sawyer locked her down as soon as he could. “We haven’t seen you at the club in a while. You’re usually there every weekend.”
I shrug, sliding my shades back up. It’s one thing for Branson to know I’m down in the dumps over a woman. It’s another thing for the rest of Atlanta to know. “You’re engaged to a CFO, sweetheart. You know how busy we can be. Especially when we’re trying to land a humungous merger.”
Cheyenne Hamilton, a quick-witted marketing genius, gives me a knowing smile. “Is that why you’re here, Wellington? Scoping out the competition?”
I make a show of looking around. “What? Wait? Where? There’s competition? Why hasn’t anyone told me?”
She’s still smiling when I look back at her. “You really are such a peach,” she drawls and then places a hand on her hip. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to see your man, Cheyenne,” I tease.
“Well, then. By all means, you came to the right place. And you’re lucky I found you. His assistant wouldn’t ever let you past if you didn’t have me for an escort.”
She places her hands around my arm, and we walk into enemy territory—at least for me. On the elevator ride, we make small talk, which is mostly her updating me on the latest eligible bachelorettes she’d love to introduce me to.
Not. Gonna. Happen.
It’s killing me not to ask her about Alyssa, but I’m not ready to play my hand yet. I know precisely what Sawyer would think, even if he knows better. Plus, it seems like cheating if I ask about her. Now, if I just so happen to run into her? Well, then who could blame me then?
“Look what the cat dragged in, honey,” she calls to the man sitting behind the desk.
Dark eyes glance up then narrow upon falling on me. “What the hell do you want?”
“Good morning to you, too. I would’ve thought Cheyenne would help you work on your sunny disposition.”
“You’re right. Where are my manners?” He stands, placing both fists on the desk. “What do you want?”
I hold up my hands. “What’s with the hostility, Callahan? I thought we were friends.”
Sawyer’s scowl turns into a lop-sided grin. “My bad, man. It’s just been a long week. What brings you here? I don’t think I’ve seen a Wellington in this building since…well, ever.”
I run a hand across the back of my neck. “Oh, it’s nothing important. I was just passing by and realized I’d forgotten to ask if you were okay with the thousand-dollar buy-in for fantasy football this year?”
Nice one, Shane. Real quick on your feet.
