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“I did. The other suit didn’t feel business meeting appropriate.”
“How is a suit not—should I change?” I don’t finish my first question, now too nervous that I’m not dressed appropriately. I look down at my red dress, then back up at Beckham’s darkening eyes.
“No, you look fucking fantastic.” I can see he didn’t intend on saying that out loud, but he just smiles sheepishly as we walk toward the elevators.
The doors shut behind us and for some reason my eyes drop down right to his crotch. The fitted gray pants do nothing to help the situation as I realize I think I can see the outline of his dick. No, I absolutely can and sweet baseball bats, Batman, that thing is huge!
What the fuck?
I feel myself physically jerk as I avert my eyes but it’s too late.
“Did you just—check me out?” A smile pulls at one side of his lips and I shake my head violently.
“No, just thought I saw a spider in the corner. Just a thread.” I smile as I stare at the floor.
“Don’t be nervous about this dinner, Brontë.” His hand reaches out to settle against the small of my back and instantly sweat starts to form at my temples and upper lip.
Does this man not understand the effect he has on women? Or maybe he does and this is his twisted little game to tease me.
“Your financial analysis is spot-on and you know what you’re talking about. Just remember that they need us. We’ve seen their numbers. If you feel like you want me to step in at all, just tap my knee under the table.”
“Wait, I thought I was just there to learn. You want me to do the talking?” My stomach does a flip.
“Not all of it, no, but I also think you can easily talk through what we’ve gone over. Just read the room and you’ll be fine.”
We exit the elevator and head to the restaurant, my nerves feeling like they’re going to rip through my skin at any second.
* * *
“You’re a bright young thing, aren’t you?” I smile nervously at the gross attempt of a compliment from Chad, the younger guy at the table. I choke down a mouthful of water to prevent myself from throwing up in my own mouth.
The meeting is going well… I think. We’ve had cocktails and appetizers and our entrees have just been brought out. The three men that came are CEO Jack Niles, CFO Bryan Winthrop, and Chad Bellview, their cocky president of sales who has mentioned at least three times tonight that he’s the youngest executive at the company. He’s also mentioned his brand-new Range Rover and the lake house he recently purchased.
“I’m still just learning, all thanks to Mr. Archer giving me the opportunity.” I pick up my wine and take a healthy gulp, praying it makes the schmoozing from this asshole more palatable, but so far, it’s not helping.
“I bet he was more than eager to give you an opportunity.” He actually winks at me when he says it and it makes my skin crawl. I glance up at Beckham and see his lips are set in a hard, thin line. His jaw is clenched tightly as he finishes off his second glass of scotch.
“Like I mentioned, we do think this would be a great opportunity for us at Archer as well as Pierce. I think we both offer some mutually beneficial assets to each other and if given the chance, we could really turn this relationship into something spectacular if an acquisition were to go through.”
The CEO and CFO both agree and offer a few words before Chad interrupts again. His sleazy chuckle puts me on edge.
“I don’t doubt that, darlin’. I think this relationship could really blossom if we were to consider moving forward with Archer. I know that we would really be an asset on your books and I can’t help but think there’s some unsaid mutual benefits as well. Who knows, when it’s all said and done, maybe you can help me figure out which boat I should buy.”
This asshole couldn’t be laying it on any thicker and I’ve had just about enough. I’m about to say as much when Beckham lets out a loud laugh.
“Do you actually think we at Archer need you? That we in any way would be the ones to benefit most from this relationship?” Chad’s smile fades, quickly replaced with anger as Beckham leans forward, steepling his hands on the table.
Shit.
“In case you missed it, Chad, Brontë detailed very clearly your current financial situation and how you don’t have the capital to grow like you would if we bought you out. So before you think you can speak to her that way, you better check yourself or you’re going to have a much bigger issue than trying to figure out which boat you think will make your dick look bigger.”
My mouth falls open as Beckham stands up, the chair he was sitting in shooting out behind him as he turns and walks away from the table.
Chad’s face is bright red, but the two older gentlemen at the table are both grabbing for their tumblers, trying to hide their snickers at what just happened.
“I—uh, I’ll be right back,” I say before chasing after Beckham.
I search through the sea of people standing at the bar till I find him at the very end.
