Hardwired (The Hardwired Series) (Volume 1) (2 page)

* * *

I ascended the broad granite steps of the library building and traveled through the halls to Professor Quinlan’s office. He was staring intently at his computer screen when I knocked at the door.

He swiveled in his chair. “Erica! My favorite internet startup genius girl.”

His telltale Irish lilt had become less pronounced after living in America for so long. I still found it adorable and clung to every word.

“Tell me, how does freedom feel?”

I giggled a bit, warmed at his genuine enthusiasm to see me. Quinlan was an attractive man in his early fifties, with salt and pepper gray hair and kind pale blue eyes.

“Still getting used to it, to be honest. How about you? When does your sabbatical start?”

“I fly into Dublin in a few weeks. You must visit me if you find time this year.”

“I would love to, of course,” I said. What would this year look like for me? Hopefully I’d be nursing my business through early growing pains, but in truth, I had no idea what to expect. “For some reason I feel like it would be strange seeing you outside of campus, Professor.”

“I’m not your professor anymore, Erica. Call me Brendan, please. I’m now your friend and your mentor, and I certainly hope we’ll see plenty more of each other beyond these walls.”

The professor’s words hit me hard, and my throat tingled a bit. Sentimental moments were plaguing me this week, damn it all. Quinlan had been incredibly supportive these past few years, guiding me through my major and making connections for me to push the business forward. The tireless cheerleader every time I needed a boost.

“I can’t thank you enough. I want you to know that.”

“Helping people like you, Erica, is what gets me up in the morning. And it keeps me out of the pub.” He gave me a crooked smile, revealing a lone dimple.

“And Max?”

“Well, unfortunately Max’s ambition for drink and women far exceeded his ambition for success in business, but it seems like he turned it around after all. I’m not sure if I was any help there, but perhaps. They can’t all be like you, dear.”

“I’m so worried things with the business won’t work out in the long run,” I admitted, hoping he had some clairvoyance that I lacked.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that you will be successful, one way or the other. If not with this, there will be something else. None of us know where life will take us, but you’re making sacrifices and working hard for your dreams. As long as you stay true to those dreams, keep them at the forefront of your mind, you’re moving in the right direction. At least that’s what I tell myself.”

“Sounds right to me.” My nerves were strung tight in anticipation of tomorrow’s meeting, which would be a make it or break it moment for the business, and for me. I needed all the encouragement I could get.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it all out anyway,” he promised.

I didn’t know whether to be inspired or discouraged, knowing he sometimes felt as aimless as I felt right now.

He shifted his focus back to me. “In the meantime, let’s see what you’ve got for our friend Max tomorrow.” He motioned toward the folder on my lap and cleared a path on his desk.

“Definitely.” I laid out the business plan and my notes, and we set to work.

The receptionist at Angelcom Venture Group gave me a questioning glance before leading me into the conference room at the end of the hall. I checked myself over, making sure nothing was grossly out of place. So far so good. I shrugged.

“Make yourself comfortable, Miss Hathaway. The rest of the group should be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, grateful the room was momentarily empty. I took a deep breath, trailing my fingers along the edge of the conference table until I reached a wall of windows overlooking Boston Harbor. Awe mingled with my growing anxiety. In a moment I would be face-to-face with a handful of the city’s most wealthy and influential investors, and I felt so far out of my comfort zone, it just wasn’t funny. I took a deep breath and shook out my hands anxiously, wishing my body would relax a little.

“Erica?”

I spun around. A young man about my age, with blond hair parted neatly to the side, dark blue eyes, and wearing an impressive three-piece suit, approached me. We shook hands.

“You must be Maxwell.”

“Please, call me Max.”

“Professor Quinlan has told me a lot about you, Max.”

“Don’t believe a word of it.” He laughed, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth contrasting with a tan that made me wonder how much time he actually spent in New England.

“All good things, I promise,” I lied.

“That’s good of him. I owe him one. This must be your first pitch?”

“Unmistakably.”

“You’ll do fine. Just remember, most of us were in your shoes at some point.”

I smiled and nodded, knowing the chances of Max Pope, heir to shipping magnate Michael Pope, pitching to anyone other than his father for a measly two million dollars were slim to none. Regardless, he was the reason I was here this morning, and I was thankful. Quinlan had known just the favor to pull.

“Help yourself. The pastries are amazing.” He gestured to the plentiful breakfast buffet along the wall.

The knot in my stomach disagreed. I needed to get a handle on my nerves. I couldn’t even stomach coffee this morning. “Thank you, I’m fine though.”

As the other investors trickled in, Max introduced me, and I did my best to make small talk, silently cursing Alli, my best friend, absentee business partner, and marketing go-to. She could make entertaining small talk with a can of soup, where I had little else on my mind beyond the facts and figures I was prepared to present, which wasn’t ideal for idle conversation with people I’d never met.

When people began to settle at the conference table, I positioned myself on the opposite side, organizing and scanning over my paperwork for the twentieth time. I located the clock on the wall across from me. I had less than twenty minutes to convince this small group of strangers that I was worth investing in.

The rumble of voices quieted, but when I looked to Max for the cue to start, he gestured to the empty center chair across from me. “We’re waiting for Landon.”

Landon?

The door flung open, and I forgot how to breathe.
Holy shit.

In walked my mystery man—six feet of masculine glory—looking nothing like his suited colleagues. His black V-neck highlighted his sculpted shoulders and chest, and his worn out jeans fit his physique like a dream. My skin grew tight at the thought of having those arms around me again, accidentally or otherwise.

Armed with a jumbo iced coffee, he dropped into the seat in front of me, seemingly unaware of his lateness or lack of formality, and flashed me a knowing smile. He was an entirely different person from the dapper professional I’d so luckily fallen into the other night. He suffered from a gorgeous case of bedhead, his dark brown hair spiking every which way, begging for my fingers. I bit my lip in an effort to hide my raw appreciation for the man’s body.

 
“This is Blake Landon,” Max said. “Blake, Erica Hathaway. She’s here to present on her fashion social network, Clozpin.”

He stilled for a moment. “Clever name. You brought her in?”

“Yes, we have a mutual friend at Harvard.”

Blake nodded, locking me in a penetrating stare that had me instantly flushed. He licked his lips. Was he thinking what I was thinking? I crossed my legs, acutely aware of the sensations he inspired between them.
Get it together, Erica.
The ball of nervous energy that had resided in my stomach mere seconds ago had exploded into a blinding sexual energy that had me pulsing from my fingertips to my nethers.

I blew out a slow breath and smoothed the lapels on my black suit coat, silently scolding myself for swooning at an incredibly inconvenient time. I stuttered into the presentation. I explained the premise of the site and moved into a brief outline of our year of bare bones marketing and the resulting exponential growth, trying desperately to stay focused. Every time Blake and I made eye contact, my brain started short-circuiting.

Eventually he interrupted me. “Who developed the site?”

“My co-founder, Sid Kumar.”

“And where is he?”

“Unfortunately, my co-founders were unable to attend today, though they very much wanted to.”

“So you’re the only one on your team dedicated to the project right now?”

He arched a brow and leaned back casually into the seat, giving me a better view of his torso. I forced myself not to stare.

“No, I—” I struggled to formulate an honest answer. “We’ve just graduated, so our level of involvement in the coming months depends heavily on the project’s financial stability.”

“In other words, their dedication is dependent on funding.”

“Somewhat.”

“Is yours?”

“No,” I said sharply, immediately defensive at the implication. I had dedicated my life to this project for months, thinking of nothing else.

“Continue.” He waved me on.

I took a deep breath and glanced at my notes to get back on track. “At this juncture, we are seeking an injection of capital for marketing to enhance growth and revenue.”

“What’s your conversion rate?”

“From visitors to registered users, about twenty percent—”

“Okay, but what about paid users?” he interrupted.

“About five percent of our users upgrade to pro accounts.”

“How do you plan to improve that?”

I tapped my fingers impatiently on the table, trying to keep my scattered thoughts on track. Every question he posed sounded like a challenge or an insult, effectively squashing every confidence-inspiring pep talk I had given myself leading up to this meeting. Teetering on the edge of panic, I looked to Max for a sign of hope. He seemed mildly amused by what I imagined was par for the course for Blake. The others stared blankly between their notepads and me, showing no indication of their interest either way.

For a split second I had thought last night’s run-in meant he might go easy on me, but apparently not. Mystery man was turning out to be a bit of a jerk.

“We’ve been focused on building and maintaining the basic membership, which as I mentioned, is growing virally. We recently started to target boutique fashion designers who are marketing their collections through the site. With a solid base of potential consumers, we are hoping to attract more retailers and brands in the industry and increase our paid memberships.”

I paused, bracing myself for another interruption, but Blake’s phone silently lit up, mercifully distracting him. Relieved to finally to be out from under his microscope, I concluded with the competitor analysis and financial projections before my time was up.

An awkward silence descended upon the room. Blake took a sip of his coffee, closed out the screen on his phone, and set it back on the table. “Are you seeing anyone?”

My heart pounded in my chest and my face heated, as if I’d been unexpectedly called on in class.
Was I seeing anyone?
I stared at him in shock, unsure if I fully understood the implication of his question. “Excuse me?”

“Relationships can be distracting. If you were to get the funds you need from this group, it could be a factor that affects your ability to grow.”

I hadn’t misunderstood him. As if being the only woman in the room wasn’t enough pressure, I had him shining a spotlight on my relationship status.
Misogynist prick.
I clenched my teeth, this time to keep myself from hurling a string of expletives at him. I couldn’t lose my cool, but I wasn’t about to smile away his inappropriate behavior.

“I can assure you, Mr. Landon, that I am one hundred percent committed to this project,” I said, my voice slow and steady. I met his gaze, doing my best to communicate how unimpressed I was with his approach. “Do you have any other questions pertaining to my personal life that will influence your decision today?”

“No, I don’t think so. Max?”

“Um, no, I think we’ve covered quite a bit. Gentlemen, are you ready to decide on this?” Max grinned and gestured to the others.

The other three men in suits nodded, and one after the next, they voiced their commendation of my efforts and subsequent decision to pass on the project.

Blake looked me in the eye, pausing for a moment before delivering his verdict as casually as he’d devastated my morning. “I’ll pass.”

Panic alarms went off and tears threatened, quickly following by my inner voice. She was crafting a farewell speech for Mr. Landon that included telling him where to go and how to get there. I looked to Max, waiting for the final blow.

“Well, Erica, I think you’ve created a really great community with this, and I would certainly like to hear more. Let’s schedule a time in the next couple weeks for a follow up, and we can get into more of the logistics. After that, we’ll decide if we want to offer you a deal. How does that sound?”

Sweet relief. I wanted to jump over the table and hug Max. “That would be wonderful. I will look forward to it.”

“Great. I think we’re done here then.”

Max rose to chat with the other men before they headed out, leaving me face to face with Blake, who was now smirking at me with that gorgeous smug face. I didn’t know whether to smack him or fix his hair. I had a few other things in mind too. Feeling so conflicted about someone in such a short period of time made me question my own sanity.

“You did well,” he said, leaning in closer.

His voice was low and raspy, making my skin tingle.

“Really?” I countered unsteadily.

“Really,” he reassured me. “Can I take you to breakfast?” His eyes softened, as if we hadn’t spent the past twenty minutes at odds with one another.

Confused, I stuffed my notes back into my bag. Blake was beautiful, but he grossly overestimated his assets if he thought I was going to let him pick me up after that show.

“There’s this great little pub across the street. They do a full Irish breakfast.”

I stood and met his gaze, thrilled by the opportunity to serve him up a little slice of rejection. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Landon, but some of us have work to do.”