Knights of the Boardroom (5 page)

Listening as Tristan set out the parameters of his “deal”, Law hadn’t been convinced she was going to agree until he heard his friend say, “Odd—from what I’d heard and observed, I wouldn’t have thought you a coward, Cressida.”
Holy shit, did he really just throw that down?

Even over the speakers Law heard her sharp intake of breath, “Oh don’t you even try that nonsense with me. I may not be able to back away from a dare my sister slaps me upside the head with, but you need to know right now I recognize stone-cold manipulation when I come up against it. Cripes, have you ever met my father? Seriously, you could take lessons from him on this front. I’m not sure there is another man in the world more skilled in the finer points of
out-come engineering.
That’s what he calls his version of the storm tactics you just tried to use, just FYI. Talk about your total PCBS package. Damn, he makes Brodie Walsh look like a pushover and I think we both know how absurd that is.” The first time Lawton heard her use the acronym PCBS she had rolled her eyes at his blank look informing him that what he’d just said was politically correct bullshit and she was calling foul. He didn’t remember what he’d said to her, only how overjoyed he’d been knowing she’d felt secure enough to stand up to him. One of the asides of being the boss and wealthy was how difficult it was to find people brave enough to challenge him, in the business world that sort of feedback was vital for success. In his line of work, if you aren’t continually being tested you lost your edge very quickly.

Law laughed as he rolled his eyes at the smug look on Brodie’s face, but Parker was the one who responded, “Damn, man, you need to get that look of self-satisfaction off your face. She just called you a manipulator, dumbass.”

“Well, I
am
a manipulative, bastard. The part I like knowing is that she is aware I’m no pushover, that will serve us well during the next month.” Personally Lawton thought his friend was missing the point, but it simply wasn’t worth discussing. “Parker, can you send a copy of this to us? And I mean a copy of all security footage since she first walked in the door?”
Fuck me, he’s going to analyze this frame by frame—I’ll spend hours being drilled on each and every detail no matter how insignificant.
Law knew he was equally focused in his own work, there wasn’t a piece of minutia he wouldn’t grind into dust if he thought it could be improved upon, but he’d never considered interpersonal relationships a topic to be studied that closely.

Brodie looked over at him and shrugged, “I know what you’re thinking—and maybe it
is
overkill. But I’m not willing to take any chances, hell, even you have to know this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. We won’t get another chance with Cressida if we let her slip through our fingers, she’ll be lost to us forever—and not only as a lover, but as a friend.” For the first time in years, there was actually a look of vulnerability in Brodie’s eyes. Not many people knew there was a tattered soul inside the ruthless legal wolf who protected the legal interests of Templar Enterprises Group. He was one of the most loyal friends Lawton had, but he was also a formidable enemy—Lawton had seen Brodie shred some of Wall Street’s shrewdest legal advisors without even breaking a sweat.

Watching Brodie study the tape was akin to watching a predator study its prey. He didn’t have a doubt in the world Brodie would assign meaning to each word Cressida had spoken, each breath she’d taken, and each time she’d blinked her eyes since she’d walked into The Knight’s Club. Not an angle he wouldn’t consider, mentally tallying the pros and cons of every response they might initiate if faced with a similar situation. When they’d first formed T.E.G., Brodie’s insistence they
rehearse via role-play
before each and every negotiation had almost driven Law, Parker, and Tristan to distraction. They’d threatened to throw him off the Brooklyn Bridge more than once—but the results had been undeniable. They hadn’t encountered a single “worst case” scenario they hadn’t already walked through. Their competitors had fallen to the side one by one until the four of them had stormed the gates of the billionaire boys club. Laughing to himself, he remembered Brodie informing them he wasn’t content to being a member of the damned BBC—he planned to take over the snobby elitist bastards perched atop the city’s social ladder.

Brodie had done exactly as he’d said he would
and
he’d taken his three friends with him, negotiating contracts that ensured their financial security for not only the rest of their own lives but for the next several generations as well. Individually they were on the short list of the city’s most eligible bachelors, but as a group, they were referred to as
The Knights of the Boardroom
. There wasn’t a social function they weren’t invited to, a charity that didn’t beg for their support, or a politician who hadn’t tried to be photographed with them. The only part of their lives they’d managed to keep largely out of the public eye was their sexual predilections. Brodie’s quick response to the few insinuations made in the media had gone a long way to discourage other reporters from making similar assertions—no matter how veiled their references. As the most visible and public face of Templar Enterprises Group, Lawton tried to remain as above reproach as possible, but it was familiar territory for him because his parents had always stressed the importance of keeping his public and personal lives separated. Neither his mother nor his father had pulled any punches—explaining how their families had worked for generations to amass fortunes only to have the foundations of their wealth nearly shaken apart by scandal after scandal until they finally mastered what his mother referred to as their public persona nightmare. His father had been far less eloquent, simply saying things had been smooth sailing since the old farts yanked their heads out of their asses and stopped waving their wankers around in the breeze.

It suddenly occurred to Lawton how difficult it was going to be to keep their relationship with Cressida a secret. If they weren’t careful, the female sharks that continually circled them would eat her alive. One of the things he’d learned over the years was just how ruthless wealthy, entitled women could be to one another. He didn’t have any intention of exposing Cressida to the vipers who freely offered themselves up to any man whose bank balance would allow them to continue living the privileged lifestyles they’d become accustomed to. Shaking off his disgust, he refocused his attention on Cressida, watching her pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down until he knew the delicate bit of flesh would be swollen when she’d finally worked through whatever was troubling her.

Right now their lovely assistant was debating whether or not she could trust Tristan to match her with a man who could introduce her to a lifestyle she was obviously curious about. Tristan had already hinted he’d be assigning her to two Dominants, but Law wasn’t entirely sure she’d grasped that fact yet. And as if his thoughts had wished it in to reality, Cressida looked up—eyes wide as her spine seemed to go ram-rod straight, “Wait. Did you say men? As in plural?”

Tristan’s predatory smile would have intimidated most women, but at this point Law wasn’t sure the potential threat had penetrated her shock. “I did. Do you have some particular aversion to ménage? More often than not, I’ve discovered most women harbor at least a latent curiosity about the possibility. Most wonder what it would be like to have two men focused on their pleasure. If two hands are better than one, then surely four are even better than two.”

Parker shook his head, muttering, “Christ, sometimes I really wonder about him. He’s yammering away and she is just sitting there blinking at him like she’s trying to bring his words into focus with her eyes. I keep telling him to leave that left of center British humor of his at the door of the club because it confuses the hell out of subs, but as you can see the bastard doesn’t listen to me.” Brodie and Law both nodded—this was an on-going point of contention between the two men, and a never-ending source of amusement for everyone around them.

Law wasn’t entirely sure why he found so much solace in the normalcy of listening to Parker grumble about Tristan having
another
“Benny Hill moment”, nor was he convinced his friend hadn’t milked the situation just to distract both he and Brodie from the tension playing out on the screen in front of them.

Cressi felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath her, she was determined to keep her gaze from dipping just to be sure the beautifully woven Persian rug was still present and accounted for.
Damn, I’ll wager that rug cost more than I made last year.
Tristan’s words had somehow finally managed to penetrate through the fog of nervousness and hearing she would be learning from not one, but two men automatically brought to mind the men who had been starring in her fantasies since she started working for them two years ago. In the beginning it had been easy to separate her wishful erotic delusions from her professional interactions with her bosses because she hadn’t really known them. But the better acquainted she’d gotten, the more difficult that distinction had become because she genuinely liked both Lawton Hill and Brodie Walsh.

She had respected them before she’d even walked through the enormous glass doors of Templar Enterprises. Stepping into the gray and black marbled lobby had told her even more than the homework she’d done. The employment agent she’d worked with had been practically giddy with excitement when she’d called Cressi to set up the interview. The woman had made it crystal clear how important the opportunity was—though Cressi hadn’t been sure whether the older woman was referring to Cressi’s career or her own. The woman’s reaction and the fact the interview was scheduled for the very next morning had Cressi up most of the night researching everything available on Templar Enterprises Group and the men who owned it. She’d studied the company’s stratospheric rise and been particularly impressed to find out it was still a privately held corporation—meaning the four friends discretely referred to on the social pages as “The Knights of the Boardroom” were almost unimaginably wealthy.

Walking in to their office suite had been so intimidating, she’d almost turned around and walked right back out. She’d been forced to accompany her dad several times after her mother died and she’d seen the inner sanctums of some of the most powerful men in Washington, but none of those offices held a candle to the simple elegance of T.E.G. Entire walls of the office suite were floor to ceiling glass and the view overlooking the city and Central Park had taken her breath away. Stepping off the elevator she’d been greeted by a very pregnant woman who’d looked at Cressi with a hopeful expression and wished her luck before escorting her into the office conference room. Cressi had almost laughed when she’d realized the other woman was probably hoping her bosses would hire her replacement before she was forced to give birth on her desk. After Cressi had been hired, she’d spoken with Desirae Carter several times over the first few months and learned her first impression had been correct. Desi’s husband, Dan, still worked for the company, but with the raise T.E.G. had given him upon the birth of his daughter, Desi wouldn’t have to return to work unless she chose to, and so far she was enjoying her time with their little girl. But it had just been during the past six months Cressi had learned Desi and Dan were also members of The Knight’s Club. Despite all of Cressi’s probing questions, Desi had remained extremely tight-lipped, steadfastly refusing to divulge even the smallest tidbit, but she’d been an open book discussing her personal view of the their D/s lifestyle.

Realizing she’d lost focus, Cressi blinked up at Tristan hoping he hadn’t realized she’d taken a meandering mental road trip while he’d been speaking about the benefits of ménage. Was he kidding? Of course she’d fantasized about being with Lawton and Brodie—wait, that wasn’t what he’d said. He’d said two men—not the two men she’d been lusting after like a sad puppy begging for someone to pet her.

The contract he’d given her to sign had been relatively simple and if she was being honest, she really had only skimmed it looking for obvious legal red flags. The document wasn’t legally enforceable, that had been easy to see, but that didn’t matter if safe words would be used in the same way she’d read about and Tristan had patiently explained the point would be more thoroughly explained by the Dominants she’d be working with. He had mentioned the club used the standard stoplight system she’d read about, so she tried to squelch her concerns.

The bottom line was, she knew Tristan wouldn’t deliberately put her in danger, so she was going to shake off the lingering suspicion she had that he was withholding some vital piece of information. All she could do was hope like hell her trust in him didn’t come back to bite her in the ass—literally. “I don’t like pain.” Cressi didn’t have any idea what had possessed her to blurt that out, but her words had been close to a shout so there wasn’t any way he hadn’t heard her. Damn, her sister was right, she really needed to work on her social filter.

“Well, I just…well, I thought maybe I should mention that. Because, well maybe that might make a difference on who you assigned to help me. Maybe some Doms don’t want to work with someone they can’t hurt. I have to admit I’m not convinced by all that ‘pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin’ nonsense. I mean, really—that’s just not even logical. Maybe you won’t be able to find someone who wants me—and that will sorta suck, but I promise I won’t hold you to this.” She’d waved the contract back and forth as if he might not know what she was talking about—good Lord sometimes she really was disconnected.

Cressi hadn’t realized she’d dropped her gaze to her lap again until she noticed her fingers crumpling the edges of the contract he’d handed her. When she lifted her eyes to meet his, she was surprised to see him smiling. “Cressida, it’s really quite simple—you either trust me to help you or you do not. Now what’s it going to be?”