More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

Good to know.

But what she’s suggesting… “You know I can’t do that. I have a job.”

“It’s your problem that you work for Satan.”

She only calls Evan that because she thinks he’s setting the course for the new trails Stratus is blazing. If she knew most of the expansion ideas were mine, I would likely graduate from minion to the dark prince himself. “Who happens to be my best friend and a great guy.”

Sloan is quiet for a long moment. “I saw him in London. He was very polite. He even apologized for your subterfuge.”

Evan didn’t tell me that. Then again, he wasn’t focused on meeting the woman, merely making sure she didn’t trash Stratus’s reputation.

“Why do you think I would save my competition?” Evan’s life—hell, my life—would be so much easier without Reservoir nipping at our heels. Shane might be a colossal fuckup, but underneath him and all those compromised VPs, they have a dedicated, talented staff.

“I can prevent something your boss wants to avoid.”

She’s fucking blackmailing me?

“What?” But I already know.

“I’m friends with lots of people who run important industry blogs and trade publications. So unless your boss wants the world to know you fraudulently posed as a respected consultant and that he condoned it, that you even went so far as seducing the competition to subvert them…”

Damn, she’s playing dirty. Perversely, I admire that. She’s tackling a problem head on and finding creative solutions.

I’ve always been hopelessly attracted to Sloan. I have mad respect for her. But this? After Becca, this may be as close to love as I’ll ever fall again.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, baby.”

“If that’s some lame intimidation tactic, you can shove it right now. I’m perfectly capable of playing your ‘big-boy’ games. Unless you want me to drag your reputation through the mud, I expect you in Dallas on Monday at eight a.m. sharp. I’ve rented a conference suite for us a few miles from Reservoir’s offices. We’ll work from there. If you need anything physically retrieved from my office, I’ll do it since we can’t let anyone see you.”

She’s thinking ahead. She’s smart. Some of her colleagues are bound to recognize me.

“I’ll also text you the address of the suite and a downtown loft Mr. Rawson keeps for corporate guests. You’ll stay there. Send me your flight information, and I’ll have a car pick you up from the airport. Any questions?”

“What makes you think I won’t simply tank your organization?”

“Because you hate to fail. And because if you do, I’ll make sure everyone knows the mess was yours.”

“I have to call Evan and clear this with him.” And he’s going to be pissed.

“You can’t give him details about our financial situation. Tell him I threatened his reputation. That should be enough. Oh, and plan to be here for a while.”

She ends the call then. And I smile.

Sloan might think she’s strong-arming me into doing her bidding…but she’s naive if she thinks I won’t be telling Evan everything. And she’s out of her mind if she doesn’t realize I’ll use my time with her to work my way back into her good graces—and finally into her bed.

April 16

At exactly eight a.m. on Monday, I push into an unfamiliar office building. Behind the front desk is a chipper twentysomething receptionist dressed impeccably.

“Welcome. How may I direct you?”

Less than thirty seconds later, I’m climbing the stairs to the suite at the end of the hall, toward imposing double doors. The floor-to-ceiling glass reveals Sloan already sitting at a gray, faux-wood-grain conference table, tapping away at her computer with blinding speed. Her pouty lips are slightly parted and her brows furrowed in concentration. The morning sun slants in, lighting up her fiery hair and revealing the faint smattering of freckles across her nose.

Seeing her again is a sucker punch—and worth every moment of my negotiation with Evan to get here. It only worked because I persuaded him that Sloan is letting the fox into the henhouse, so to speak. We’ll know where Reservoir is vulnerable, where we’re better equipped to compete, where their bottom line is, and precisely how long they’re likely to be underwater.

It’s a lot of juicy information to have about your toughest competitor.

Despite that, all I’ve thought about since hanging up with my boss on Friday night is what I’ll do to thaw out Sloan until I have her in my bed.