The Dealmaker (Sex & Bonds 1)

“That isn’t my problem.”

“It will be if I refuse to do business with you.” Theo curls his hands around the edge of Aiden’s desk and leans toward the speakerphone. “I don’t engage with scumbag counterparts.”

Sweat breaks out under my arms. “What are you doing?” I hiss.

Aiden holds up his hand, a murderous expression on his face. “I’m sorry about that, Brian. As you can imagine, Theo is quite upset about taking such a large loss.”

“You know what?” Brian’s tone is biting. “Fuck this. Aiden, Nora—you’ve been great to me, but you’re really going to let this guy call me a scumbag?”

I grit my teeth. “Trust me, Brian, I’m going to have words with him when we’re done here.”

“Words? It’s going to take more than that to make this right,” Brian fires back. “I’m done here. Consider this relationship terminated.”

He hangs up. The nasal-y dial tone fills the room once again.

My pulse throbs in my temples. The saliva in my mouth thickens, and I quickly locate the wastebasket just in case I really do lose my lunch. Or my mind, and I take the metal basket and hit Theo in the back of the head with it. It’s not a vacuum cleaner, but it’ll get the job done.

I stare at Aiden, wide-eyed. He looks back. Theo’s still leaning into the desk, the starched fabric of his shirt straining over his shoulders and back. The muscles there are enormous.

Did this hugely entitled dickweed just blow up my best account and, by extension, my shot at MD? Where the hell did the kind, foul-mouthed father figure from Coyote Joe’s go?

“You had no right,” I manage, my voice thin.

Theo straightens, a glowering tower of oversized lats and eyes that burn. “I have every right to protect my P&L.”

“You’re like a bull in a china shop.” I step closer to him, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. “You just—you charge in here like you own the place, but really you just make a big fucking mess the rest of us have to clean up.”

“You’ll both be cleaning this up,” Aiden interjects crisply. He stands behind his desk and buttons the top button on his suit jacket. “We honor the trade—”

“But that’s bullshit!” Theo says.

Aiden shakes his head. “Interrupt me again, Morgan, and we’ll have a bigger problem on our hands. I’m your manager, and I say the trade stands. What happened was fifty percent your fault and fifty percent Nora’s. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is smoothing the feathers you two ruffled over at BamCo. We lose them, and we’re all in trouble.”

“I’m on the next flight out to Santa Barbara,” I say, turning for the door.

Aiden holds up his hand again. “Wait. Theo’s going with you.”

I freeze. “No.”

“I’m too busy to travel,” Theo says. Do I detect a note of panic in his reply? Why does that bug me?

I shove the thought aside. “You just witnessed the kind of damage Theo causes when he’s interacting directly with clients.”

“I imagine Theo knows better.” Aiden cuts him a glance. “He didn’t get this far in his career by acting like a wanker. Am I wrong, Morgan?”

“No,” Theo grunts.

“Besides, I think Brian will appreciate Theo going all that way to apologize for being said wanker.”

Theo shifts on his feet beside me. “Is it really necessary to keep calling me that?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Honestly, the two of you must learn to get on, and quickly. Traveling together will help with that.” Aiden tucks his chair underneath his desk. “I’ve got to run, but you understand my directive, yes? Honor the trade, work together to make nice with Brian, and come back with good news.”

I nod. “Understood. I’ll do whatever it takes, Aiden. I’m incredibly upset over this.”

“And you, Morgan? Do I have your word you’ll help Nora repair whatever damage you’ve done?”

Theo takes a noisy breath through his nose. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Absolutely none,” Aiden replies, then holds out his arm. “After you.”

Aiden follows us out of the office, then veers off toward the elevators. Walking back to my desk, I feel Theo’s gaze burning a bullet-sized hole in the center of my back.

This is bad.

Really, really bad.

Not only did we fuck up a trade and show our asses in front of an important client and our boss. Now we have to somehow arrange a make-nice meeting with BamCo (will Brian even pick up my calls or Bloombergs?) and travel across the country together to grovel.

And it has to be a good grovel. My chest and throat tighten at the very real prospect of failing to woo Brian back. What then? Aiden will probably give the account to another salesperson, and I’ll look like an idiot. There’s no way I’ll be promoted after messing up this badly.

Because I did mess up. Yes, Theo did too, but he’s right—I should have double checked the treasury. But I guess in my rush to get the trade done—and let’s be real, my rush to prove to Theo I’m the desk’s top dealmaker—I made a critical error.