Work. For the Solveigs.
His words were as effective at dousing her ardor as cold water.
“I’ve got to go.” She wiggled off his lap, suddenly grateful for the tight spandex that still covered her breasts.
She ducked to grab her shirt, cursing his hotel room—cursing him—for his ability to steal her common sense and make her clothes fall off.
“Portia.” He reached for her hand but she stepped back.
His gaze bounced between her and his phone, which had stopped ringing for a moment, then started right back up again.
“Duty calls.” She pulled on her shirt, grateful it hid her face for a moment. She didn’t want him to see her disappointment.
The interruption served as a reminder that she couldn’t—shouldn’t—repeat the mistake of their earlier night. She had too much to focus on—the never-ending problems her father left behind, keeping the company moving forward, and now the threat posed by the Solveig Consortium—to get involved with anyone. Especially not someone from enemy number one.
Ignoring the fact that she had appeared unannounced at his hotel room, Portia said, “Please set up an appointment with my assistant the next time you want to meet.” She looked past Aleks’s shoulder as she spoke. She needed distance and she needed it now.
“Portia,” he said again, just loud enough to hear over the phone. “Please stay. We can talk about this.”
As much as she would like to know what he and his employers spoke about, there was no way she was rehashing this with him.
All she wanted was to get home and go to bed. And hope that tomorrow was a better day.
“Good night, Mr. Lind.” She turned and walked to the door like a queen.
Chapter14
Aleks stared at the door,his spinning thoughts nearly drowning out the ringing phone.
Dammit! He just needed a minute to focus. Why couldn’t they leave a message and let him call back?
He grimaced. He knew why. The Solveigs were used to getting their way—as the owners of the company, no one ever told them no. Given that everyone here in Seattle had turned down their offers, this conversation was going to be fucking delightful. He wished, not for the first time, that he could just quit this job. But where would he go? When his implant had been classified as a failure, the Solveigs had kept him employed. They could have easily sent him to work in the factories instead.
The ringing stopped for one blessed moment of silence before starting up again.
Aleks grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. It was time to man up and deal with his employers. He counted to ten, focusing his thoughts as best he could, before picking up the phone. “Yes?”
The expected tirade started immediately. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer immediately? You’re expected to report in regularly.” Mr. and Mrs. Solveig spoke over each other, nothing new.
He dropped onto the sofa as the words washed over him. “My apologies. I was... indisposed.” The Solveigs’ heads would explode if he admitted to having been making out with Portia Tremaine.
“Hmmph” was Mrs. Solveig’s only response. Aleks’s employers didn’t do sympathy. At least, not for the hired help.
“How were the meetings? How many investors have agreed to sell their shares?” Mr. Solveig asked eagerly.
This was the part he’d been dreading. “No one is willing to sell.” He spoke cautiously, then held the phone away from his ear while they threw question after question at him.
“Turn on the camera,” Mrs. Solveig demanded.
Smoothing his hand over his hair, he prayed that Portia hadn’t left any marks. No, that wasn’t right. He’d love it if she marked him. But for this call, he had to hope that they weren’t visible. Aleks shoved all thoughts of Portia away. He’d need all his wits about him to navigate this conversation.
Aleks turned on the camera feature and his employers filled the screen. In their late sixties, both had gone gray. Mrs. Solveig kept her hair in a short, sleek style that might have made her look younger if not for her perpetually sour expression. In contrast, Mr. Solveig was rounder, with rosy cheeks and a salt-and-pepper beard, but his expression was grave.
“What do you mean, they won’t sell their shares? Did you point out how much over market value we’re offering?”
“Yes, ma’am. I made that point several times. I think one or two may have been intrigued, but no one took me up on the offer.”
“Then you must have made a mistake,” Mrs. Solveig said.
