8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Clara

I had a list of questions I could have asked Jeremy Hayes. He would have given me a polished answer that told me nothing. If I wanted real and raw, Jake was where I had to turn.

Jake Hayes . Jake Hayes in a sleek, black suit.

What were the odds the man who wanted a considerable amount of money and assets from my family's company would be the same man I'd met in a cowboy bar and had taken to bed?

If I were more cynical—and I was already loaded down with cynicism—I would have suspected this was all some elaborate set up. But no, Jake's expression when he'd realized who I was couldn't have been faked. He'd been just as surprised to see me.

He'd flinched then, but he didn't now. I launched into my questions, and while he wasn't as smooth as his brother, I liked hearing his unpracticed answers. Jeremy chimed in a time or two, but I made sure to direct everything to Jake.

I wasn't interested in this partnership, and Luca was well aware of that. But my brother was less rigid and far more open to change. It was easier for him. He hadn't devoted his entire adult life to learning the ropes to keep Rossi alive for future generations.

Luca laid his hand on my arm, taking over. "This has been extremely interesting. You've given us a lot to discuss and think about."

Jeremy blinked hard and folded his hands together on the table. "Any thoughts you'd like to share today?"

Luca chuckled. "Not yet. I'm going to have to go over everything you presented and let it percolate. Speaking for Clara and myself, we don't pounce on every opportunity like this. We take our time, do our research, and have many discussions with our advisors. Above that, we'd like to get to know you and Jake. As you pointed out, we're a family company. Knowing who we work with is important to us."

Something rippled over Jeremy's placid expression before he could school it. "That sounds good, Luca. I'm open to all the conversations you need to feel comfortable forming a partnership with us."

Luca and Jeremy walked out of the conference room together, talking affably. If my brother put his mind to it, he could smooth a path over hell, so it didn't surprise me how easily he'd relaxed Jeremy.

I walked out of the conference room directly behind them, not giving Jake a chance to speak to me on his own. This had been awkward enough already; there was no need to prolong it.

Reaching my office door, I couldn't stop myself from peeking behind me down the hall. Jake had stopped just outside the conference room, his body turned in my direction, hands in the pockets of his black suit pants. He wore a suit just as well as he wore a leather jacket and pair of coveralls, but there was something unnatural about this particular man buttoned up in such a way.

The smirk playing on his lips, though? That was natural, the intensity of his stare too. If I'd been ice, I would have been a puddle on the floor.

But I was Clara Rossi, the second-in-command of a Fortune 500 company. So, like Jake was any other man walking these halls, I straightened to my full height, met his eyes, and lowered my chin.

His mouth parted, but if he had something to say, we were too far apart. Besides, I wasn't in the mood for chatting. I needed time to collect myself—out of his sight.

Shutting myself in my office, I collapsed on one of the seats across from my desk. They were leather and cushy and tied with my desk chair in comfort. There weren't many moments in my day where I relaxed. That was saved for home. Work was work.

But if I were to ever make an exception, now was the time. I survived that meeting without making a fool of myself in front of my colleagues.

God, would they have been shocked to find out how I knew Jake. I bet, if asked, most of my coworkers had never thought about me and sex in the same sentence. To be honest, I didn't mind them having that perception. I'd felt pretty sexless until Jake turned something back on inside me that had been shut down for three years. That part of me would never emerge at work, though. Being in an executive position was hard enough—especially due to nepotism. The last thing I wanted was anyone thinking I was sleeping my way to a deal with Motor Zone.

My phone alerted me to a text. I slipped it from the pocket of my dress, mindlessly checking.

"Ah!" I tossed my phone in the air then scrambled to grab it before it crashed to the ground. Why was he texting me? Had he even left the building?

Jake: Let's talk. Dinner?

Oh, he had to be kidding. We didn't talk, and aside from the fast food with Nellie, we didn't share meals.

Me: No thanks. If you have anything you need to say, you can text.

Jake: You don't eat dinner?

Me: I eat dinner. Not with you.

Jake: We need to talk about how we're going to handle this.

Me: That doesn't require dinner. Besides, I think we handled it fine today.

Jake: Is that why you snuck off before saying goodbye? Did you need to go to your office and handle yourself, mama?

Me: Do you masturbate in your office?

Jake: I haven't, but today, I'm cursing my glass walls. Don't need our employees seeing me fuck my fist while picturing you in that dress.

I should have been offended. Should have had his number blocked. Instead, my thighs were pressed tightly together, and I was calculating the number of hours until I could slip between my sheets and quell this ache he'd created with my vibrator.

He kept going, texting me without waiting for a reply.

Jake: Do you always wear dresses like that? It's a good look for you.

Jake: Can't decide if I like you in tight jeans and a leather jacket or your uptight little dresses.

Jake: Naked. It's naked. When you're letting me touch all that softness…yeah, that's my favorite.

Jake: But I need to see you in another dress to be sure, so meet me for dinner.

Me: Aren't you going to promise it'll be strictly professional?

Jake: No. The one thing about me you need to know is I don't break promises. There's no reality where I can be in your presence and think strictly professional thoughts.

Me: How will we work together if this deal goes through?

Jake: We need to talk about that over dinner.

I closed my eyes and exhaled, my phone resting on my stomach. I didn't have to be facing forward during the beginning conversations with Motor Zone, thereby avoiding this situation with Jake all together.

Dating him was out of the question—if that was even what he was after. And I couldn't possibly sleep with him again.

So why was I vacillating?

Why was I tempted to say yes to dinner? Or more?

Jake: Take the day to think about it.

Me: I don't need to think about it. The answer is no.

Jake: You're disappointing me, Clara. If you dig deep, I bet you're disappointing yourself too.

I tossed my phone on my desk and groaned at the ceiling.

He wasn't wrong. A part of me wished I was the kind of woman who could throw caution to the wind, but that would never be me. I'd never been that way and had far too much to lose to change now.