“This is Sara Dillon, head of our finance department,” Bennett said to Will.
Will stepped forward. “Yes, we’ve been exchanging emails. So nice to finally meet you, Sara. We missed each other at the fund-raiser last month, I think.”
They spoke for a moment before she glanced my way, her eyes going wide for the briefest moment. She walked over, hand outstretched, and did not look entirely pleased to see me.
“I believe we met at the fund-raiser,” she said, tight smile in place. “Max Stella, was it?”
I took her hand, letting my thumb graze the inside of her wrist. “I’m flattered you remember, Sara.”
She pulled her hand back, smiling blandly at me and moving to her seat.
I moved on to Chloe, making small talk and accepting a vague invitation for dinner sometime in the next few weeks. It was pretty clear why Bennett was so taken with her: she was beautiful and obviously sharp. I didn’t miss the way her eyes flickered to Bennett’s and then back to me, as if they were having some sort of silent conversation. At one point he rolled his eyes, face stretching into a smile unlike anything I’d ever seen on him before. The poor bastard was whipped.
As the meeting started, I took the only seat available, right next to Sara. Judging by her expression, I wasn’t entirely convinced this was a good thing.
The minutes seemed to drag by and, Jesus Christ, this really was the most boring thing I’d ever sat through, science and strategies about science. At one point I could have sworn I saw Will’s eyes roll closed in ecstasy.
Sara was still silently fuming beside me. What happened that had her so tense? I could feel every bit of space that separated her body from mine. I had to consciously work to keep my hands in my lap. I was aware of every movement she made, every time she shifted in her chair or reached for her bottle of water. I could smell her. I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to be this close and not be able to run my hands along her skin, to do something as simple as tuck her hair behind her ear.
Why the f**k did I suddenly want to tuck her hair behind her ear? This plan had officially gone to shite.
Immediately after Will’s portfolio presentation, Sara excused herself and left before I could talk to her any more. When I finally disentangled myself from a conversation about the best way to highlight the firm’s proteomic technology in the marketing strat plan, I practically sprinted to her office.
“Hello,” her assistant said, looking me up and down from behind his monitor.
“I’m here to see Miss Dillon,” I said, continuing on to her office.
“Good luck, because she’s not in there,” he called over my shoulder. I turned to find that he’d gone back to his spreadsheets.
“Any idea where she might be?”
Without looking up he answered, “Probably out for a walk. She just stormed through here like someone had set her shoes on fire.” He blinked over to me. “She usually goes to the park when she wants to stab someone.”
Oh, for f**k’s sake.
I ran to the elevator, ignoring the looks I got along the way, and watched the floors count down. What the hell had gone wrong? I’d barely said two words to her in there. The heat of the afternoon hit me like a wall as I stepped outside, even in the suffocating shadows of the buildings overhead. I looked up and down the street, turning on foot in the direction of the park. The sidewalks were crowded with dog walkers and tourists, but hopefully her shoes would slow her down enough that I’d be able to catch up.
It was the strangest feeling to move from the city and into the park, where the smells of asphalt and exhaust were replaced with trees and leaves, damp dirt and water.
I saw a flash of pink at the end of the trail and I sped up, calling out to her. “Sara!”
She stopped on a paved trail and whipped around to face me. “Holy hell, Max. What were you thinking?”
I pulled up short. “What?”
“Back there!” she said, short of breath. “I didn’t know you guys funded B&T! They don’t need to disclose that at this stage. Hello, conflict of interest!”
I scrubbed my face, wishing this simple arrangement would stop feeling so f**king complicated. “I didn’t think it would be a problem.”
“Let me lay it out for you,” she said. “The head of finance of B&T’s marketing firm is sleeping with the head of the venture capitalist firm that pays said marketing firm. Think you maybe have a conflict? Do you think maybe you’d like your new sex buddy to have some business? Or maybe you’d like to ensure your new venture gets the best possible price on premium marketing strategy?”
Was she kidding with this bollocks? I felt my face grow hot with indignation. “Christ, Sara! I’m not bringing you business because I worry about you, or shagging you to ensure you do your job well!”
She sighed, holding her hands up. “I don’t actually think that. But that’s how it could look. How long have you been doing this? Don’t you know how these things get spun? This is a new position for me. This is your business and people are hungry for every detail about you. Look how much the press follows you, even five years after Cecily left town.”
She was hypersensitive about publicity, and spin, and it was bewildering. This was all a load of bullshit, and I could tell she knew that. She looked away, arms crossed over her midsection, shoulders slumped. The truth was, I didn’t care who saw me with Sara. Five years out from the Cecily drama and I realized you couldn’t help what anyone said anymore. No way could Sara understand that.
I walked over to a willow tree several feet away, ducking under the curtain of leaves, and sat down with my back to the trunk. “I don’t think this is as big an issue as you’re making it out to be.”
She stepped closer but remained standing. “My point is that there needs to be some level of discretion. With or without a potential conflict, I don’t want Bennett to think I sleep with clients as a point of habit.”
“Fair enough, but I don’t think Bennett has a lot of room to criticize.”
I watched her legs move closer, bend, and then she was sitting next to me on the warm grass. “There wasn’t any reason for you to be there. I wasn’t expecting to see you and it threw me.”
“Bloody hell, Sara. I wasn’t going to try to finger you beneath the table, I just wanted to come along and get a chance to see you, say hello. You could be more adaptable, you know.”
She laughed a little, and then stopped. But then a few seconds passed and I realized she’d started to laugh again: silent at first, and then she was holding her stomach, bent in half, practically howling with laughter.