What They Don't Know (Won't Hurt Them Trilogy #1) (10 page)

“Bry, we can't do
this.”

“Shit, Bria, why do
you always push me away when I think we're gaining ground?”

“Bryant,” I sigh
and decide I’m not going to have this conversation with him
anymore. “I'm not arguing with you about this again. You can either
leave or help yourself to the guestroom. Either way, I'm not going to
sleep mad at you.”

“Fine, Bree, I'll
talk to you later.”

He doesn't take
anything but his keys, and I wait…

“Dammit!” is all I
hear him say the minute my door closes.

I hear a knock. I open
the door and just look at him with my head cocked to the side.

“Do you want me to
take you to your car now or in the morning?”

He's standing in the
doorway, leaning forward with both hands on each side of the
doorframe. His head is down as if he's defeated.

“Will it be too much
to drop me off tonight?”

“Nope.” I grab my
keys, jacket, wallet and I'm out the door.

He gives me the address
where his car is, and we drive there in silence.

“Bryant, do you
remember anything about Friday night?”

“No, I just remember
drinking and becoming extremely tired,” he said.

“Did you and Cruz
come to an agreement on the investments?”

“Yeah, we're meeting
tomorrow morning. This Tony guy is the guy Jeff referred to my
parents?”

“Yes, it is. Is that
a problem?” I asked him out of concern.

“No, no I just wanted
you to oversee things and finalize all investments,” he says.

“But why? Tony is
just as capable.”

“Yeah, but Tony isn't
my best friend, and he doesn't have my best interest,” Bryant says
as he turns to look at me.

“He will if he's
working for you,” I said.

“Yeah, Bria, but guys
are shady. If you work for both of us on this project, I can't see
you getting greedy and siding with Cruz. And I'm pretty sure you
won't let me do the same.”

I eye him for a quick
second before focusing back on the road. “What is that supposed to
mean?”

“You’re fair,
regardless of what we have going on. You're not going to let me be
steered wrong and do anything unethical. I really need you on this.”

“You don't trust
Cruz?”

“It's not about
trust,” Bryant admits.

“Then what's this
about?”

“My money, my
investments, my integrity.”

“Okay, I can
understand that. Here we are,” I say pulling up alongside Bryant's
car at a ritzy hotel. For Christ’s sake,
his
car is here.

“Is that Cruz's car?”

“Yeah, how did you
know what car he drives?”

“Oh, I thought I saw
him driving it at the Vodka Bar Friday, on my way in. It caught my
eye.”

Bryant isn't dumb; he's
quick on his feet. But right now, he's sitting down. To distract him,
I run my hands through his messy hair. He closes his eyes, and makes
a humming sound in his throat. I almost gave myself away.

He turns his head,
kisses the inside of my hand and my wrist. He leans over, pulls on my
jacket, and here we are in my coupe. In front of a fancy hotel, like
teenagers. I'm kissing Bryant and it feels nice. A smile comes over
my face; he returns the smile.

A loud
crack,
crack, crack
scares me right out of my seat. I jump so
high I hit my head on the ceiling of my car. “Shit!” I look up
and out the window.

“What the hell, man!”
Bryant yells and winds down window. Cruz is on Bryant’s side of the
car.

“So, that
was
a lover’s quarrel, and this is kiss and make up?”

I scoff but say
nothing, and let Bryant handle this.

“Man, you have some
perfect timing.”

“What were you going
to do? Take her in the car? Don't you think the lady deserves
better?”

“Dude, you're an
ass.”

“Yeah, I've been
told.”

“Just calling it how
I see it,” Bryant retorts. He opens the door and leans to kiss my
forehead before getting out. Not wanting to look at Cruz, I turn my
head straight ahead to look out the windshield.

“Hello, Ms. Watts.”
I don't make eye contact at all.

“Hello, Cruz.”
Still looking out of the window, I can see his movement. He walks in
front of the car. “What the hell is he doing?” I mumble. With his
eyebrow lifted, he waves and says, “Hello,” again. It’s not
curiosity in his lifted brow. It's more like,
I'm
on to you...
I just wave, and rev my engine. He smiles,
and walks back to where Bryant is.

“Hey, Bryant,” I
yell out of the car. “It's getting a little dark; I want to be back
before it gets too late. I'll see you later.”

“Okay, Bree.” He
runs to the driver side and leans over to kiss me on my forehead
again. “Hey, sunshine, think about it please. I need you.”

“Okay, Bryant,” I
say in a defeated and annoyed tone.

“Just say you'll
think about it, but
really
think about it. Pleeeeease with me on top.”

“Get out of here,”
I say, as I push his face from the window of the car. “Okay, I'll
think about it.”

“Yes!” He gives me
a fist bump. “My girl!”

He steps away from the
car, and all I can do is drive away. I don't look in my rearview
mirror or anything. I just drive away. Monday awaits.

* * *

That night, I research
cost analysis between hotels, including travel versus car service.
This is looking promising. I budget props and decorations; we'll call
it expenditures for now. Each set-up service budgets at $475,
depending on the size, and location of the suite. I'll add a few
perks related to client fantasies. My fees are a standard rate, with
out-of-town set-ups and personal companionship excluded. Those are
extra extras. I check off all items included in this plan, and I'm
done with my first business proposal.

I’m about to pack up my laptop to
prepare for tomorrow when my email notification goes off. I glance at
the preview screen and see [email protected] I really don't
want to open it, but my curiosity is endless. I click on the preview
screen, and his email is time stamped tonight at 8:20 p.m.

Good Evening, Honey,

I just left Mr. Morgan, and he has informed me that you may be
reconsidering our business proposal. It would be a pleasure to work
with you and gain insight on your financial ideas. If you would like
to join me for lunch tomorrow, I'd like to go over my plans as well
as what I want to accomplish with Mr. Morgan. Please let me know by 9
a.m. Monday morning. Have a great evening.

Regards,
Mr. King

I send an email back right away.

Good Evening Mr. King,

I've reconsidered your business proposal for Mr. Morgan's sake. I
will have a few analyses tomorrow, so please be prepared to take
notes. As I will be in order to create a portfolio from our meeting.
Again, I'd appreciate it if you would address me as Ms. Watts.

Have a wonderful evening,
Ms. Watts

I sign my name in bold,
italicized, and underlined. Then I realize how unprofessional it is,
and undo all actions. I do, however, keep the bold on my name and
send it. I shut my laptop down quickly and prepare my wardrobe. I'm
impressed by my selections. I'm not a fashion icon, but guru doesn't
fall short of me dressing myself. Usually, I don't spend too much
time on my work attire. I'm not sure why I am today. The thought of
Cruz comes to mind, and a warm, unwelcome feeling comes over me.
I
am not dressing for him,
I say to myself. Literally to
myself, as I look down at my lady part. Yep, I'm borderline insane.

* * *

My alarm sings into the
air in my bedroom, I flail my hand out and tap it lightly to silence
it. “Mondays are fun days.” My voice is less ladylike in the
mornings, so sometimes I scare myself when I speak aloud. Today is no
different. I stretch awake as I think of what today can bring. Two
business portfolios for two different reasons. Today should be
interesting.

Pulling up to my
favorite café, I stop, and observe to make sure there are no
policemen or arrogant business associates lurking. Bad enough I have
to deal with him once today. Any more than that, and I am going to
have a problem. I get out and power walk into the café. As usual, I
order both my boss’s coffee and my own, grab them, and go. I start
to sashay out the door, maneuvering my phone with two to-go cups
between my hands. I successfully make it out the door without a
spill. Yes! My phone beeps as I walk to the car, and I flick the fob
on my keys to unlock my doors. I sit one cup on top of my car as I
hear my phone beep again. I finally get my door open to sit both cups
in the holders. There it goes again; my phone beeps and I know they
are texts. I tap the screen; they're from a number I don't recognize.

Your walk does something to me.

I freeze and look
around, then tap my phone for the next message.

Hopefully my arousal will subside by noon.

Instantly I know who it
is.

“How in the hell did
he get my number?” I sit back in my car and close my door. I start
my car while reading the next text.

(Cruz) Mr. Lover
boy Bryant, if you are wondering how I got your number, we have to
communicate other than email, Honey.

I look around trying to
locate my stalker, so I open a reply text.

(Me) STALKING IS
ILLEGAL IN ALL STATES, I type in all caps. I get a quick response.

(Cruz) Only to
the stalkee.

(Me) Uggghh.

(Cruz)
See you at noon, Honey.

I do not like this man.
He does all kinds of things to me. There’s a word for that. I’ll
make note to look it up when I get home. My phone beeps again, I tap
on the message because I just can’t resist.

(Cruz) Oh. Please
do me a solid, and sashay into my office the way you just did…
Sending address to your email.

What the hell? Where is
he? I look around in search of where he might be. I put on my
seatbelt and pull out onto the street. My phone beeps again. I glance
at it and tap the screen while it’s on my stand.

(Cruz) NO TEXTING
AND DRIVING!!!

Ugh, he’s a complete
ass.

* * *

At work on time and Mr.
Wilke is hot on my heels.

“Sunshine, how are
you on this fine Monday morning?”

“Great, boss, you?”
I hand him his favorite blend of wake-me-up.

“Blissful, my dear.”

“Good, did you and
the missus have a great get-away this weekend?” He looks at me with
a furrowed brow as he sits in the chair adjacent to me.

“Bria, why do you
assume my wife and I are always doing things together?”

“Boss, because you
two are married, to each other.”

He laughs. “We had a
great time, Bria,” he says as he continues to laugh. “It was
refreshing and well” His focus is on something outside my office
window. I’m not sure what. “Nice,” he says with a long-winded
breath.

I raise one eyebrow and
sip my coffee. I stare at him, as he stares out the window. “Boss,”
I whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

“Boss.” He looks
over at me and stands as he grabs his coffee from where he set it on
my desk.

“Sunshine, your
office is a distraction. Settle in and meet me in my office in twenty
minutes.”

“Okay, will do, Mr.
Wilke.”

He smiles as he walks
out holding his cup up in the air. “Thanks.”

Fifteen minutes pass,
I’m on my way to Mr. Wilke’s office. When I arrive, he’s on the
phone. I stay in the doorway, so I give him privacy. He looks up and
sees me standing there as he glances at his watch. We could actually
reschedule this meeting; I have something to put together for my noon
meeting. Just as the thought enters my mind, he signals for me to
sit. I wave my hand to let him know I’ll just come back. He has
other plans.

“Hold on for a
second. Bria, please sit; I’ll only be a few more seconds.” I
slide into the chair across from him and try not to listen to his
conversation. That’s when I realize, it’s Bryant on the other
end.

“Okay, let’s get
together sometime this week. I’ll have my PA schedule a meeting,
and we will take it from there.” He looks at me to confirm, and I
nod. “Sounds great, good day, Bryant”

Yep, that was Bryant.
My boss hangs up the phone and turns to me.

“Okay, Bria what do
you have for me?” I hand him the packet I’ve prepared. He opens
it and looks it over. I have a copy for myself and turn pages as he
does.

“Is this a flat fee
or adjustable?”

“It can be adjusted,”
I respond.

“Okay, I see you’ve
thought long-term and expanding. Good, I like this, Bria. I just
suggest you change the initial budget fee from $475 to $600. Your
set-up fee should also be increased by at least thirty percent. More
to accommodate you, and to walk away with a nice revenue. You are
selling yourself and services too short. With your thoughts of
expanding, thirty percent on your take will have you comfortably
expanding in no time. I get that you’re doing something you like to
do. It’s exciting, yes; but you want an incentive. And a little bit
of motivation wouldn’t hurt. These aren’t your average day-to-day
blue-collar men and women. These are elite business professionals;
they are also paying for discretion.” I nod, as I listen to my
boss’s suggestions.

“Which brings me to
the form you’ve prepared, it needs to be revised before we send it
to my lawyers.”

“Which part?”

“Add next to the
confidentiality clause, a discretionary clause. Be more specific;
mention that a high level of discretion is necessary. A screening
will be performed if a client is referred. This will be long-term,”
he says. “We already have a nice size clientele.”

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