“Find out everything you can about the Thayer board,” I said, my voice low. “I want it all. The whole deal. Get dirty if you have to.”
Nate nodded once, a sharp, certain jerk of his chin that told me he would get the job done, but instead of the usual prickle of anticipation I felt before an acquisition like this one, all I could think about was the way Jane had saidnolike the word itself was a blade. Like by using it, she was daring me to try again.
And I would.
Not because of the dare or because of something idiotic like always getting what I wanted, which I did, but because I did, I’d never needed to brag about it. This was really much simpler than all that.
I’d been raised to play this game and to be the best at it. Thayer Steelworks was in worse shape than I’d realized. Her behavior had confirmed it, and if Westwood and Sons could pull this off, it would be the coup of the fucking century.
No one would ever doubt me again, and more importantly, not even my father would ever be able to threaten my seat on our board.
CHAPTER 5
JANE
By Friday night, I was honestly surprised that an entire swarm of Westwood minions wasn’t sniffing around just yet. I’d been convinced they would’ve shown up by now, clipboard-wielding, latte-clutching, overly polite emissaries sent to lure us into a false sense of security about being absorbed under the Westwood umbrella.
I’d braced for it, mentally prepared to swat them away like gnats, but so far, there had been nothing. An entire week had passed since that dinner and I hadn’t received any calls, texts, or surprise meetings.
They’d gone radio silent, and while that should’ve been a good thing, I didn’t know if I could trust it. It’d been crawling up my spine for the entire hour and a half of Pilates torture I’d just endured under the very cheerful dictatorship of a five-foot-tall brunette wearing bubble-gum pink like she was personally sponsored by the color.
My abs were on fire, my legs were jelly, and closing my locker took more strength than I thought I had left in me. I swung my gym bag over my shoulder and walked out into the snow with that jittery, unsettled feeling still lodged under my ribs.
At the corner liquor store, I grabbed a bottle of fifteen-dollar wine, the kind with a label trying too hard to look artisanal, and stepped back into the cold. Wind bit at my cheeks and snowflakes stung my eyes, but I stood at the curb anyway, waiting for my Uber.
When I checked my phone, I nearly shouted my frustration to deities I wasn’t even sure I believed in anymore.Twenty minutes away.
Of course. Fuck my life. Seriously. Just… fuck it.
I exhaled, watching my breath fog in the air as I cradled the wine to my chest like someone might actually want to steal it. A blacked-out, luxury sedan suddenly screeched to a stop beside me. It overshot, backed up with all the subtlety of a shark realizing it had missed its bite and then the passenger window rolled down.
Alex Westwood looked up at me from the comfort of his extremely fancy, probably extremely warm car. Although he didn’t look atmeso much as he looked me up and down, those vivid green eyes moving slow and assessing, like he was deciding if I was a person or a problem he needed to solve.
Before I could process that he was actually here, he reached across his console and popped open the passenger door. “Get in.”
I blinked at him. Hard. “Are you stalking me?”
“It’s ten degrees out and you’re wearing tights. Just get in the fucking car.”
“I’m going to call the police.”
That gaze held mine, unwavering and completely resolute. “Be my guest. You’ll freeze to death before they get here.”
Infuriatingly, he wasn’t wrong. Snow swirled in tight circles around my legs and my fingers were already stiff even through my gloves. A quick glance at my phone told me the Uber wasstilltwenty minutes away, and my spine was about to snap from shivering so hard.
My pride hated me for it, but I closed my eyes, dug deep in an attempt to stop my emotions from rioting, and slid into his car.
He must’ve realized my hands were full—and frozen—because he suddenly reached across me and swung the door shut. The heat of the interior hit me like a wall, the leather seats warm, and the cabin smelling faintly clean and spicy, a scent that did unhelpful things to my self-control—and undoubtedly belonged to him.
Buildings blurred past as he melted into traffic, the world narrowing into a funnel of snow and headlights. I mumbled my address and he nodded, his eyes forward and his jaw set.
A beat of silence passed, then two, but then I felt the heat of his gaze on the side of my face when he glanced over at me. “What’s a COO doing taking taxis and Ubers, and buying shitty, bottom-shelf wine on a Friday night?”
I turned my head slowly, giving him the full benefit of myare you serious right now?stare. “My finances are none of your fucking business.”
That stare had gotten me pretty far in life, scaring the crap out of rivals and titans of industry alike, but Alex just smirked, a knowing curve of his lips that was devastating in its precision. It ate me up and spat me back out again.
Unfortunately, Alex Westwood was exactly the type of man I would be into if I had the time or energy to even consider the male species. Confident. Daring. Half a head taller than me even when I was in heels.
