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“You’re welcome,” she says, turning to her left. When I don’t follow, she glances over her shoulder, never breaking her stride. “You took the stairs, didn’t you?”
“I did,” I answer in confusion, and Raven gives a shy yet devilish smile that’s contagious even though I don’t know what’s causing my lips to unconsciously rise.
“There’s a cargo lift down the hall,” she says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. It’s perfectly straight and stunning how it drapes over her shoulders. My fingers itch to push the locks from her neck and expose the bare skin beneath.
In the hallway, her quiet confidence comes to the fore again, and despite the nerves that must be ripping through her, she doesn’t allow them to show at all. In fact, she’s comfortably leading me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and to my own surprise, I follow her quite willingly. She’s a warm contrast to my cold reserve.
“Normally, I take the stairs too, but I’m not daring it in these heels.”
Her tone is almost self-deprecating, as if she’s not certain of her skills despite her sure-footed, even strides. The effect of the off-hand comment is quite different, though. It drags my eyes down to her gorgeous legs, where her calf emerges from the red hem of her dress, which drapes to the floor but is cut dramatically in the front and along her left leg.
I have to resist the urge to end tonight’s plans early by pinning her against the wall and slipping between her legs right now.
Fuck.
“The elevator is fine,” I finally declare, forcing my mind to not imagine what she tastes like and wonder if she feels the same tension I do. I hold onto my professionalism with every bit of grit and determination I possess after seeing her into the small, enclosed space, clasping one hand over my wrist in front of me, standing tall with my shoulders straight and my eyes on the door.
The ride down the elevator is quiet, mainly because the elevator itself is, as Raven said, a cargo style elevator that’s too noisy and open for any sort of actual conversation.
We reach the street level, and Raven stops just shy of the car. I can feel tension rise in her as she sees Vince. Turning to look at her, I ask, “Is there a problem?”
“No, I just… never mind,” she says, climbing in as I hold the car door open for her.
Vince waits until I’m seated before smoothly pulling away and raising the privacy screen to allow Raven and me a chance to speak privately before the event.
“Champagne?” I offer, and Raven’s façade of calm cracks ever so slightly.
Is it being alone with me? The alcohol? Or more likely, a show of nerves about tonight’s undertaking? I do wonder if that’s more about Evan or the professional opportunities I’ve promised her.
“Thank you,” she finally responds, and I carefully pour her a flute of champagne. She takes a sip and lets out a breath. “Thank you. This is good.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply, pleased that she seems to be shaking off her moment of reservations. “Have you applied anywhere else?” I question, thinking that her potential job prospects may be a good place to begin conversationally to ease us into the deeper discussion we should have before our arrivalat the fundraiser.
“Practically everywhere,” she admits. “Initially, I applied to as many places as I could, hoping for interviews to hone my skills, so that when I had the chance at my top-choice firms, I was ready to wow.” She flashes a wry smile as if we both know how that worked out. “Now, I’m back to a ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ situation. If I can get my foot in the door somewhere, I know I can impress. I just need the chance.”
A part of me balks at the idea of passing Raven on to another firm, despite that being the carrot I dangled to get her to come tonight.Raven Hill is mine, a voice roars in my head. But that’s not the case. She is a means to an end, as I am for her. Nothing more and nothing less.
Which we should address.
“I see.” I take a sip of my own champagne and decide to be blunt. “Let’s discuss tonight. Who do you know in the Financial District, besides the obvious? Is there anyone in particular you’d like to meet?”
Raven takes another sip of champagne and thinks before answering. “I trust your judgment of my resume and your contacts. I’m open to whoever you feel might have a role for me and appreciate any and all introductions. I’ve met some people during my internship and recent interviews, but by no means everyone. And to be frank, though Evan talked shop, that only let me know people’s reputations. He never went so far as to introduce me to those who might be in a position to hire me.”
“Reputations,” I repeat. “Their public or private ones?”
“Most of them,” she says, sounding amused, “both.”
“Ah,” I reply, turned on by the sparkle in her eyes. I shouldn’t ask, but I’m curious about both what Evan has said and how Raven feels about it, so I venture, “And what sort of reputation do I have?”
“That depends,” she says, turning the full impact of those twinkling green eyes on me. “Some people say you’re ambitious,principled, and that your work ethic is only outweighed by your brilliance.”
“Some?”
“Others say you can be… brutal, even ruthless. I’ve also heard you described as a menace.” She holds my gaze as she says it, as if studying my reaction.
The way she says that last word sends a thrill through my body, straight to my balls. She makes it sound like… a compliment. To me, it is. I’ve worked too hard to amass wealth and power to be seen as anything less than the ultimate threat.
“I feel like I should thank you,” I say lightly.
