The Dangerous Seduction (2 page)

He took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and approached the bar. “Hello, I’m Ryan Paullson. It’s really good to finally meet you, Mr. Van Aardt.”

Van Aardt raised his eyebrows. “Whose idea were the lilac ruffles?”

Ryan blushed, bowing his head to look down at the ridiculous lilac-ruffled shirt that all Duane’s groomsmen had been forced to wear. “That would be my sister-in-law. Her taste is kinda unique.”

“So I see.” Van Aardt smirked and said, “It suits you.”

“Thank you,” he said, ducking his head to hide the flush of color to his cheeks.

Van Aardt tapped a spot on the polished wood bar beside him. “Take a seat. Have a drink.” He pushed a hi-ball glass of what looked like whisky or bourbon along the bar toward him. “You look like you need it.”

“Thanks.” Ryan pulled up one of the tall barstools, slid onto it, and picked up the glass gratefully. Whatever the drink was, it was nice—a smooth, honeyed slide down his throat.

“What did your family say when you took off?” Van Aardt asked after Ryan had gotten comfortable.

“I didn’t tell them exactly,” he admitted. “But they know how much this job means to me. They know how disappointed I was about not being able to meet with you. They’ll probably come round. I mean, I was there for the important parts—for the I do’s and the vows and the pictures.”

Van Aardt took a long sip of his drink, throat rippling as he swallowed. His mouth was plush, pink, and inviting, and Ryan couldn’t help watching as his tongue came out to lick his lips, gathering up any stray drops. Ryan swallowed and forced himself to look down at his own glass where it sat on the square black napkin.

“I grew up in Dallas,” Van Aardt said, breaking the silence. His tone was conversational, musing. “But I guess you knew that already.”

Ryan nodded, feeling wary, unsure whether it was the kind of thing he should be admitting. “Yeah, I did read that somewhere.”

“It’s alright. You did your research, as you should. Interviews are a two-way process, Ryan. This is your chance to figure out if I’m the sort of boss you’d want to work for.”

“You are,” Ryan said quickly, “I mean
—
you’re the best. I want to work for the best, Mr. Van Aardt. I’m serious about this job. I skipped out of my brother’s wedding because I’m serious about this job.”

Slowly Van Aardt smiled, his mouth stretching, tugging upward, the movement completely transforming his face. He raised his glass, took a sip, and uncurled one of his fingers from around the glass to point it at Ryan.

“When Estelle told me you couldn’t make the interview, I wanted to meet you. People don’t say no to me very often, particularly when they want to work for me.” He paused, replaced the glass on the bar, and ran his finger around the brim in a thoughtful sort of way. “People always used to say to me that you can take the boy out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the boy. Do you think that’s true?”

Ryan blinked, unnerved for a second by the abrupt change of subject. “I never gave it much thought. I mean, you are what you are. And where you come from—that’s part of what you are, no matter how much you might try to change or hide it.”

“Is that what you’ve found to be true?”

“I guess. Personally, I don’t hide where I come from. Why should I? I’m not ashamed of it. My family raised me right. I’m proud of that.”

Van Aardt nodded thoughtfully and turned his head, fixing Ryan with a look. “In my experience, everybody’s got something to hide. Sometimes it’s something as unimportant as the town you grew up in, and sometimes it’s something else. So, if you’re not hiding that, then what are you hiding, Ryan?”

Ryan stared back at him, genuinely confused. “I don’t know.”

They held each other’s gazes for what felt like a long time, then Van Aardt exhaled, his mouth twitching a little at the corner. “Relax,” he said. “Most people don’t know how to answer that question.” He drained his glass, set it back down onto the bar, and got off his stool. “You should go; it’s a long trip back to Houston.”

Ryan blinked in confusion. “So, is this it? Are we finished?”

“We are.”

“And the job—”

“You’re hired.” Van Aardt held out his hand. Wide-eyed, Ryan slid clumsily off his stool, reaching to take it. The handshake was firm, his grip hard and dry. “Welcome to the team, Ryan.”

R
YAN
LEAVES
the apartment fifteen minutes after Daisy, deliberately not rushing to work as he usually does. He’s not looking forward to today. As much as he’s excited about joining a new firm, especially one as prestigious as Chase Mackey Van Aardt, he doesn’t like letting people down, and resigning is definitely letting people down.

Then again, he thinks, as he crowds his way onto the Manhattan-bound subway train, he’s stifled in his current job. The cases are all the same; there’s no excitement there, no real drive or desire for change. His current firm is well-respected and solid, but they’re not the kind of firm that takes on risky cases. He wants to work on the kind of cases that Van Aardt gets, the ones that make the news.

Elaine sits through his resignation speech with an impassive expression on her face. Once he’s done, trailing off and offering her his best (and phoniest) apologetic smile, she presses her lips together and says, “So you’re leaving us?”

“Yes. I’m giving my two weeks’ notice today,” he answers. “I’m going to send the e-mail to HR later, but I just wanted to tell you personally, and to, well, thank you for everything you’ve done for me over the past two years. I’m really going to miss working here.”

It’s a rehearsed speech and it’s not entirely true, but it’s important to be gracious and to not create any bad feelings. Reputations can be destroyed by malicious gossip much faster than they can be built up again.

“Well, we’re going to be sad to lose you, Ryan. I hope you know that. You’ve done some good work here,” she says.

“It’s been a fantastic opportunity,” he says, words slipping fluidly off his tongue. “Thank you so much for taking me on in the first place.”

She nods again, the corners of her mouth crinkling upward into a thin smile. “So tell me, who’s managed to lure you away from us?”

“I’m joining Chase Mackey Van Aardt,” he says.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just sits back in her chair and looks at him, her eyes boring into him with her unnerving stare. He licks his lips, tries to think of something—anything—to break the awkward silence.

Finally, she seems to take pity on him. “You’re going to be working with Joseph Van Aardt.”

It’s not a question but he answers her anyway. “Yes.”

“I guess this means there’s a snowball’s chance of me making an offer that will keep you here. I can’t imagine us ever being able to match whatever he’s offering?”

“It’s extremely generous,” he admits.

“I bet it is.”

“But that’s not why I’m joining them,” he adds. “It’s not about the money. It’s—”

“It’s Joseph Van Aardt,” she finishes. “It’s okay, Ryan, I can understand. You’re an ambitious boy, you would be a fool to turn down such an opportunity.”

Her tone is matter-of-fact, but it’s not hiding the glimmer of contempt behind the words. He finds himself bristling and wanting to defend the decision. They’re both lawyers and they both know that any lawyer without ambition or drive shouldn’t even be in the profession. But he does the wise thing and keeps quiet, waiting for her to speak again.

She sighs and makes a move to get to her feet, signaling that the meeting’s over. “Well, like I said, I’m going to be sad to see you go.”

“Thanks, thanks, me too.”

She holds out her hand over the table. He scrambles to his feet and takes it, feeling her warm, dry fingers curl around his own. She smiles at him, and it’s almost genuine, save for the piercing look in her eyes as their gazes meet. He nods at her and smiles his best smile, the one that Daisy says brings out the dimples in his cheeks, not that any effort at charm has ever had much effect on Elaine.

She tugs her hand away and moves to gather up her files and phone. At the door she pauses and turns to look at him over one shoulder. “Ryan?”

“Yes?”

“Just… be careful. Joseph Van Aardt will expect a lot from you. And I’m not saying that you can’t handle it, but still.” She hesitates, and he’s surprised to see something like concern on her face. It’s not an expression that he’s used to seeing on her. She’s a tough old broad, not someone who gets close to people. She keeps everything strictly professional, always. “You’re a good boy at heart, Ryan. Just remember that you have friends here. We could always use people like you on the team.”

“Okay, thanks,” he says, unsure what to make of it and slightly annoyed by her thinly veiled insinuation that he’s going to inevitably crash and burn. “I really appreciate that, Elaine.”

She gives him one final thin smile before she leaves the room.

T
HE
WELCOME
wagon on his first day at Chase Mackey Van Aardt consists of the impressively dressed and impressively named Estelle Levereux. She’s super-model tall and glamorous, with beautiful dark skin and equally beautiful hair twisted up into a high ponytail that cascades halfway down her back. She looks like a younger, less scary version of Naomi Campbell, and she greets him with a warm smile and imposing efficiency as she glides around the office pointing out places of interest. She introduces herself as Joseph Van Aardt’s assistant and she looks and acts exactly as Ryan would’ve expected Joseph Van Aardt’s assistant to look and act.

The tour is brief: bathrooms, powder rooms, kitchen, coffee and vending machines, copy room, meeting rooms, videoconference and telepresence rooms, ending in a large, open-plan area surrounded by several small identical offices and one much larger office in the far corner. Around him, employees are working at their desks, phones humming and keyboards clattering. A harassed assistant is clearing a jam in the nearest printer, swearing under her breath as she kicks the feeder tray closed. Several people look up from their computer screens and eye him disinterestedly before returning to their work.

“So, this is us. Every member of Joseph’s team is based on this side of the building,” Estelle says. “Associates in the offices.” She gestures at the row of identical small offices lining one side of the room. “Joseph’s office is in the corner, and that’s my station, right outside.” She points across the room to the far corner office. It’s about the size of eight of the other offices put together, though Ryan guesses that when your name’s in the lobby and in the press as regularly as Joseph Van Aardt’s, you can have an office as big as you damn well please.

“If you have any questions just shout, though I don’t promise I’ll have time to answer them,” she says with another disarming smile. “Oh, and finally—” She takes a couple of paces forward, coming to a halt outside one of the small offices, which has a nameplate that reads: RYAN PAULLSON “—this is you.”

“Wow, you even spelled it right,” he says. “Not many people remember the extra L.”

“Of course. I know how that goes; you should see what people do to my name.” She steps inside the office to point out the laptop computer and work station. There’s already a thick pile of files and another separate pile of forms on the desk. “I see someone’s already given you work to start you off. We’re never short of work here,” she says with a sympathetic smile. There’s a note pinned to the first file. “Oh, that’s Paul’s writing. He’s one of our senior associates. I’m sure he’ll be along at some point this morning to talk you through what he wants you to do. The way we work here is that junior associates, like you, will usually work for one of our seniors, who will then report directly to Joseph.”

“Oh, will I not get to work with Mr. Van Aardt directly, then?” he asks, unable to stop the disappointment from entering into his voice.

She gives him an assessing look before saying, “Call him Joseph. He’s not big on formality.”

“Oh, right, yes, Joseph. Of course.”

She turns back to the pile of forms on his desk, leafing through them with the help of her seriously long nails. “Let me see, yes, these are HR forms, please fill them all in. Someone from HR will be by to talk to you also sometime this morning. And these are your log-on details for you to get onto the network.” She pulls out one sheet of paper and hands it to him. “Memorize them.”

“Thanks,” he says, taking the paper from her.

“Okay, I think you’re all set. You’ll have to excuse me now but Mondays are always crazy and you wouldn’t believe my to-do list this morning.” She spins on her three-inch heels, then pauses, turning around to give him an appraising look. “Listen, you seem like a nice person, Ryan, so I’ll give you some advice for free. Joseph has high expectations of all his team and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. The way we work here, well, let’s say that it doesn’t suit everybody. If you figure out it’s not for you, then you should leave sooner rather than later. No one will think badly of you for it.”

“Oh, right. Well, thanks for the advice,” he says.

She nods and with one final flash of brilliant-white teeth, she turns and glides back across the room to the enormous corner office like she’s on a runway.

He glances at the name on the door again, allowing himself a brief smile. He’s not planning on going anywhere. Other people might figure out they can’t take the pressure of working for Joseph Van Aardt, but he’s planning on sticking around long enough to get himself an office just as big as the one in the corner.

He sinks down into his desk chair and pulls the stack of files toward him, eyes running over the scribbled Post-it on top. At least he knows where he is with work.

The senior team goes into a meeting at 10:00 a.m. in the conference room. Halfway through the meeting, Ryan walks past with a cup of coffee and hears the sound of raised voices. He doesn’t investigate further, but an hour later he sees a tall dark-haired guy leave the office with a shell-shocked expression on his face and a box of what looks to be personal items in his arms.