Hardwired (The Hardwired Series) (Volume 1) (13 page)

He paused a moment. “Yes, but I’ve been trying it in small doses lately.”

“How’s that going for you?”

“It’s...not always easy.”

“Seems like it might be liberating. I think sometimes it would be nice to take a break, to be able to defer to someone else for once.”

“You can defer to me whenever you’d like.”

He licked his lips and smirked at me. I narrowed my eyes at him playfully, feeling my skin tingle at the gesture and enjoying our pseudo-sexual banter more than I expected.

I needed to move the conversation away from the topic of sex. Blake could take my mind from zero to filthy with a few choice words. “You’ve been making yourself scarce. Anything new?”

His eyes met mine with a penetrating gaze. “Just putting out fires at work.”

“You haven’t asked me about the meeting with Max,” I said.

“What’s to tell? I knew Max was going to invest from the moment I saw you in that boardroom.”

“How did you know that?”
I wish I had known,
I thought,
if only to save myself a fair measure of stress and anxiety.

“Well for one, you’re beautiful.”

I warmed at the compliment, though coming from someone who defined physical perfection, I had a difficult time truly accepting it.

“I’m not sure what looks have to do with it.”

“Looks can be persuasive. Secondly, you have a good concept.”

I frowned, confused as to why Blake’s glowing opinion of me this evening ran in such stark contrast to his brutal line of questioning at the pitch. “If you thought I had a good concept, then I’m not sure why you felt the need to humiliate me at the pitch and shoot me down.”

I had come to know Blake better these past couple weeks, but the tirade of emotions I felt that first day were not easily forgotten. My hand fisted as I remembered the experience, his simple and easy rejection stamped on my memory. I riled again, my skin prickling with anger.

“I wanted to see how you’d perform under pressure. Plus, how else was I supposed to find out if you were available? Two birds with one stone.” He shrugged, as if it were nothing.

To him, it probably was. To me, it was a life-changing event, the culmination of months of hard work. If we were going to move any further together he needed to know that.

“Blake, I worked really hard for the opportunity to pitch your group, and you completely disrespected me. It’s hard for me to imagine how I would have felt if I hadn’t gotten the second meeting because of you. The word devastated comes to mind, though.”

I looked out at the skyline to avoid his gaze, afraid my anger might fade when I genuinely wanted him to know what an ass he’d been that day. I’d been holding that thought to myself for weeks now, and I was suddenly ashamed that I’d actually slept with Blake before calling him out on his behavior. All my pride at having accomplished what I had at my age, and I was hardly a beacon of feminism.

“You’re right,” he said.

My anger slipped at the shock of hearing his words. The words nearly put me into shock.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

I was still processing Blake’s almost-apology when the server came with our food. We ate in silence for a few moments.

“Max seemed upset that you helped me,” I said.

His hand came down on the table hard enough to startle me. “You told him I helped you?”

“I assumed he would know eventually. I thought you were friends.”

“We’re colleagues, not friends, Erica.” He forked his duck aggressively and sliced off a bite before popping it into his perfect mouth.

“How do you know his dad?”

He raised his eyebrows, his patience with this line of conversation clearly thinning. I worried that my perfect day was being threatened, but we’d come this far already.

“Blake, you know all kinds of things about me, and I feel like I don’t know anything about you. Tell me something. Anything!” I waved my hand in frustration, needing him to know how difficult this inequity was becoming for me.

His jaw twitched as he continued with his entree. My appetite waned despite the mouth-watering fillet in front of me. Food this divine should never go to waste. I poked at the seasoned couscous around the fish when Blake began to speak.

“When I was fifteen, I got into some trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Hacker stuff.”

“What kind of hacker stuff?” I pressed.

“It’s not important.”

I settled back into my chair, pouting a little.

“At the time, Michael, Max’s father, wanted to diversify, so he started to invest heavily in software. He knew my story and sought me out. I was at a low point in my life, but he gave me an opportunity. I was able to build out the banking software on my own terms, the way it needed to be built. Obviously, it paid off for both of us, doubling his portfolio and setting me up to be able to do what I do now.”

“How does Max play into this?”

“Max was a few years younger. He watched Michael invest in me. Not just professionally, but as a mentor and a friend. He resented it, and when the software sold, he knew he’d never be able to catch up to me. It’s been chafing his ass ever since.”

“Oh.”

“Are you happy now, boss?” he asked, pointing his fork at me.

He was kind of cute when he was annoyed and confessional.

“Well I’m not happy to hear that in particular, but I’m happy you told me.”

I replayed the two meetings at Angelcom through my mind with the new knowledge that Max was in constant competition with Blake, eager for any opportunity to overtake him. My business was about to become irrevocably tied to Max, so I harbored very rational fears that my association with Blake could become problematic at some point, but Max wouldn’t have known about our relationship if I hadn’t told him.

When the check came, Blake handed the server his card before I could reach for my purse. Not wanting to argue tonight, I let it go and excused myself to freshen up.

When I emerged, I made my way toward Blake, who waited at the elevators. He stood with casual grace, his hands in his pockets, his suit straining in all the right ways, reminding me of the rock hard body beneath it. I could focus on almost nothing else as I passed by the long elegant bar and its patrons, but a face along the way caught my attention.

I stopped in place, suddenly gripped with an all-consuming panic that drowned out the noise of the crowded restaurant. My heart beat ratcheted out of control. An icy pain rushed through me, seizing my body from my lungs to my fingertips.

I steadied myself on the wall beside me, seemingly unable to move forward another inch while the face of the man I recognized turned in my direction, as if he sensed me watching him.

Dressed in a tailored pinstriped suit, he looked like anyone else at the bar having a drink after a long day, but I knew better. After a few seconds, his face twisted into a smile as recognition dawned.

He remembered me.

After three years of looking over my shoulder, never knowing when I might see him again, I had come to believe I never would. Without a name, he was a ghost, a memory so excruciating that I’d spent years trying to convince myself he’d never existed at all. Yet here he was, a living nightmare come back to haunt me. I cursed myself as the irrational thought struck me that talking with Liz had somehow conjured him back to life.

I vaguely remember hearing Blake call my name before he was at my side, taking me by the arm to break me out of my trance. He came into focus and I tried in vain to mask the fear that plagued me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his face lined with concern.

“Nothing.” I caught his hand and pulled him toward the elevators.

* * *

After a few attempts to get me talking in the car, Blake seemed to give up. We stepped into the cool air of his apartment and I made myself at home at the wet bar in the living room. I filled a cut glass lowball to the brim with ice and some smoky amber liquor from one of the many bottles in his collection.

I sank into the couch and pressed the cool glass against my forehead, willing away the frenzied thoughts that had taken over. I wanted to banish each and every one of them. Tuck them away where they no longer felt like my own, or better yet, where I might forget them entirely. I took a healthy gulp from my glass to hasten their journey.

I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t be alone right now, and sharing square footage with Sid didn’t count. I needed a powerful distraction, and Blake had always been supremely helpful in that department. He sat on the coffee table across from me, holding my legs between his. He stroked the sensitive skin above my knees, but my body was numb, unable to process even the most basic desires that Blake inspired in me.

“Talk to me, please,” Blake said evenly.

I stared past him, giving him nothing. Sharing my past with Blake seemed impossible, but something sparked to life. A little part of me wanted to break down the wall that kept my past safely hidden from the present.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, unsure how I could even begin to tell him, even if I wanted to. I could barely handle the onslaught of emotions that had been terrorizing me since leaving the restaurant.

“That’s bullshit. You looked like you witnessed a crime scene in there.”

“I was remembering one.” I regretted the words as soon as I uttered them. My body tensed with a different kind of fear. Blake would never look at me the same again. He would know someone had taken his pleasure from me, and that in my stupid, young ignorance, I let him.

Silent, he waited for me to continue. I forced the rest of the drink down, waiting for the relief it promised. If I told Blake now, he’d either head for the hills, or maybe he’d care, though I couldn’t imagine why. It dawned on me that if we had any chance for a future, he’d have to know.

“We were freshmen. I went with some friends off campus for a weekend party, and we ended up at a frat house. The place was mobbed. We danced, we drank too much punch. I barely ever drank, so I was obliterated by the time I got to the bottom of my cup. I wandered away from the group.” I trailed off, lost in the memory I’d so carefully buried.

How could I possibly explain how naive I had been, to follow a friendly stranger to the bar that we never found, like a child being lured with candy? Then to be so intoxicated that I could barely fight him off, my refusals lost in the chaos of the party that raged inside.

The man I saw tonight was the man who had taken my innocence, leaving me violated and sick in the bushes where Liz finally found me. Years of preserving myself for a first love, or at the very least, a buzzed night of mutual consent, had all been for naught, and the shame had kept me silent.

“I tried to fight him off,” I whispered. This time, I couldn’t swallow away the tears that fell free down my face. My limbs felt weak and heavy, weighed down by my past and the reality that losing whatever I had with Blake to it would be a crushing blow.

Blake’s jaw clenched, and he sat back, raking his hands through his hair. The momentary separation from his touch physically hurt, the places where our skin had met ached for his return. I needed the contact as an affirmation that this new knowledge wouldn’t color how he felt about me. A sickness twisted inside me at the thought.

“Are you happy now?” I laughed weakly through my tears, wishing Blake would respond.

His expression was frozen with a nameless emotion.

“I’m damaged goods.”

“Stop.” The authoritative bite to his voice gave me pause.

“Stop what?”

“You’re not damaged, Erica.”

I swallowed hard, wishing I could believe him. “I’m simply stating the obvious. It doesn’t make sense for you to want to be with someone like me anyway. You should be dating socialites, models, not someone like...me.” My voice caught as the words left me.

“I’m not interested in dating models.”

“Well, that makes no fucking sense, you realize that? I’m a mess. I mean, just look at me.”

“I do. Frequently, in fact. You’ve been driving me crazy for days. I can barely sleep at night.”

“And now?”

“Now, I have you. No roommates, no crowds, and you’re trying to come up with every reason to scare me off. If you think this changes things, you’re wrong.”

I looked away, helplessly fighting the tears that just kept coming. When he sat next to me and pulled me onto his lap, I went willingly, wanting to feel him close again. How he could still want me, I would never know. He wrapped me tight in his arms, cocooning me to his chest until the sobs slowed and my tears ran dry.

“You’re stunning,” he said.

Nuzzled into his shoulder, I shook my head. “How can you say that after what I just told you?”

“Because it’s true. Erica, one horrible experience doesn’t define you. If it did, I doubt you’d want to be with me either.”

“I do,” I said.

My hand slid over his shirt to feel his heart beating a slow and steady rhythm. I knew nothing about his heart but something inside of me wanted to deserve it then. What would it be like to have his desire, and his love? Suddenly my feelings for Blake began to overwhelm the painful the memories he’d coaxed out of me moments earlier.

He lifted my hand and brushed his lips softly over my fingertips. Inch by inch, he caressed me, claiming every expanse of bare skin with a quiet tenderness I’d never known, healing me with his hands and lips. The pain and the numbness gave way to relief, and then, to a familiar warmth that simmered below the surface.

I tugged at his hair and tipped his head back for an urgent kiss. Somehow, he’d broken through, overwhelming my senses with the pressing need to be possessed. His smell, his taste, and his primal hunger—I craved them all. I explored the depths of his mouth with my tongue, tangling with his, ravenous for him. He met me with equal intensity. He shifted me so I straddled him, crushing our bodies together so they were flush. A soft cry escaped my lips at the sudden contact and the fervency of his movements. Then he stopped, fisting his hands to his sides.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m wound too tight, Erica.” His head fell back on the couch and he swallowed, the notch in his throat moving with the action.