Risk (The Men of Matiz 1)

"Since when did that become a good idea?"

Since I decided that I want her to see me in a way no other woman ever has and since I want my daughter to spend time with the most perfect example of a strong woman I know. Every other woman I have ever met is inferior to Ellie in every conceivable way. I can't deny that. I wouldn't try. "I like her, Crew. May will like her too."

"I get that." He taps his shoe against the floor. "What's going on between you two is new. It's early, Nolan. You need to wait for a beat before you take Ellie home to May."

I don't take offense. He loves May just as much as I do. To her, he's Captain Crew, her uncle. He's been there every step of the way, but she's my daughter. I get to call the shots. "When the time is right, I'll introduce them."

"There's no rush," he points out as he stands. "If this thing between you and Ellie has legs, you have all the time in the world to introduce the two of them. Pace it right, pal. Give it time. Think about what's best for May."

He's right. I know he is, but right now, after spending half my night with Ellie and the other half with my baby girl in my lap drawing pictures of our life together, all I want is for my daughter to meet the woman I can't get enough of.

Chapter 32

Ellie

"What's going to happen to all these pastries?" I sigh heavily. "What do you do with them?"

"I assume the cleaning crew takes care of it." Eda picks up a mini donut and pops it in her mouth. She chews rapidly. "I have no idea what they do with them."

I scan the large cloth covered table that was set up by the catering company hired to feed the Matiz executives who came to the meeting that just ended. I was required to sit in so I could listen to their individual concerns regarding security. One person brought up the fact that sensitive files are being emailed through the company's internal system. I'm not equipped to address that so Matiz's cyber security expert handled it.

I only had to speak once when a woman who runs the nail polish division had a question about the new protocol I put in place regarding self-samples. I told her that the reason I outlawed them is that too many customers were helping themselves to the sample bottles. When one went missing, the sales staff used to replace it immediately with a new bottle of polish. It wasn’t uncommon for the store to run through two or three bottles a day to replace those taken.

Now, when a customer wants to paint a fingernail to see if they're purchasing the right shade, the person working the polish counter does it for them and then places the sample bottle back behind the counter. If a customer does decide they like the color, the sales associate will hand them a bottle from the display case and then either ring their purchase in or direct them to the main check-out area which is only a few feet away. It's a very simple way to cut down on the theft of the polish but one that apparently no one thought of until now. Since Matiz polish ranges from twenty to thirty dollars a bottle, the savings is significant.

"Why do you ask, Ellie?" Nolan asks as he stalks toward me. "You can take as many as you like home. I know you have a sweet tooth."

I have a sweet spot on one of my teeth, not an entire tooth. It's likely going to take me the rest of my life to work through that gallon of ice cream he brought to my apartment. Adley and I have eaten a few spoons a day since he brought it over and there's barely a dent in it. Pastries are the last thing I need.

"I wasn't asking for me."

He nods at Eda which immediately sends her on her way out the door with another donut in her mouth.

He waits until she leaves us alone in the boardroom before he touches my cheek. "Who were you asking for?"

"Do you think the cleaning crew throws them in the trash?" I count just the tarts on the table. There are twenty two. There are at least twice as many small donuts and an entire chocolate cake that no one bothered to cut into. Most of the people at the meeting took a cup of coffee from the self-serve station beside the pastry table and sat down. They didn't even look in the direction of the tarts, donuts, cake or the delicious looking muffins that appear to have candied walnuts on top of them.

When I turn to look at him, he's studying me. There's a question in his eyes, so I wait for it, but he shakes his head faintly before he looks at the table. "They don't throw them out. I take the extra food after our meetings."

"You must really like donuts and cake." My voice is soft. "You also must work out like a madman to look as good as you do if you're eating ice cream and pastries all the time."

"I don't eat them all the time," he quips.

"You ate both the butter cookies we got from the street cart."

"I did?" He pops a donut in his mouth and chews. "Jesus, I'm a rude prick sometimes."

I raise an eyebrow. "They're very good cookies. I don't blame you."

"Blame me, Ellie." He taps his chest. "Tell me that I need to make it up to you."

"You don't." I reach out to cover his hand with mine. "Just tell me what you do with all this food. I'm curious."

He lifts my hand to his mouth, feathering his lips over my palm. "It's sent to a mission in Midtown. They distribute it to the people who need it. If we only deliver pastries, like we are today, I'll arrange for something more substantial to be brought in, so the people they help will have a well-balanced meal and dessert too."

His words bring a smile to my face. "You're not rude. You're one of the good guys."

"If you see me as a good guy, I'm doing something right." His voice is quiet. "Your opinion of me matters a great deal. I like knowing that you see that in me."