Corner Office Secrets Read online

“Meaning what exactly?”

  “You tell me,” Zack said. “Are you involved with her?”

  Vann was stung. “No way! I’ve barely even spoken to the woman!”

  “Good,” Zack soothed. “Calm down, okay? I had to ask.”

  “I am calm,” he growled.

  His friend didn’t need to say a word, but after a few moments of Zack’s unwavering X-ray stare, Vann had reached his limit. He got to his feet. “I’ll go to her now,” he said. “I have to tell her we need her for the meeting down in San Francisco.”

  “You do that,” Zack said. “Just watch yourself. Please.”

  “I always do,” Vann snarled as he marched out the door.

  Zack was just being thorough. Careful. That was what made him a good chief security officer. But it pissed Vann off to have his professionalism questioned, even by a friend.

  Particularly when he was questioning it himself.

  He was careful not to catch anyone’s eye as he strode through the halls of Maddox Hill. He needed every neuron buzzing at full capacity to interact with that woman, considering how sweaty and awkward she made him feel.

  Sophie Valente stood in her big office near a window that overlooked downtown Seattle. The door was open, and she was talking on the phone. Her voice was low and clear and musical, and she was speaking...what the hell was that? Oh, yeah. Italian.

  Vann was competent in Spanish, and Italian was just similar enough to be intensely frustrating to listen to. His father had been second-generation Italian, but food words, body parts and curses were all that he’d picked up from Dad.

  Frustrating or not, Italian sounded great coming out of Sophie Valente’s mouth.

  She sensed his presence and turned, concluding her conversation with a brisk I’ll-get-back-to-you-later tone.

  She looked hot. Sleek, professional. Her braid was twisted into a thick bun at the nape of her neck today, and slim-cut black pants hugged her long legs and world-class backside. A rust-colored, loosely draped silk shirt was tucked into it. She was already tall, but spike-heeled dress boots made it so that she was just a few inches short of his own six-foot-three frame. Her clothes didn’t hide her shape, but they didn’t flaunt it, either.

  There was no need to flaunt. Her body effortlessly spoke for itself. He had to constantly course-correct the urge to stare.

  She laid her phone down. “Mr. Acosta. Can I help you with something?”

  “I hope so,” he said. “I hear you speak fluent Mandarin. Is that true?”

  “Among other things,” she said.

  “Was that Italian I just heard?”

  “Yes. I was talking to the IT department in the Milan office.”

  Then she just waited. No greasing the conversational wheels with friendly chitchat. That wasn’t Sophie Valente’s style. She just stood there, calmly waiting for him to cough up whatever the hell he wanted from her.

  Most of which was unspeakable. And extremely distracting.

  Vann wrenched his mind back to the matter at hand. It took huge effort to keep his gaze from roving down over her body. “I’m going to San Francisco for the negotiations for the Nairobi Towers project,” he explained. “Our Mandarin interpreter had a family emergency and we need someone last-minute. I was wondering if you could help us out.”

  Sophie’s straight black brows drew together. “I am fluent in Mandarin, yes. But simultaneous or consecutive interpreting is not my professional specialty. I do know several top-notch specialists in Seattle and the Bay Area, however. It’s last-minute, but I could put you in touch. Or call them myself on your behalf.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but both Malcolm and Hendrick prefer to use in-house interpreters,” he told her. “The interpreting doesn’t have to be perfect, just serviceable. And it’s just Mandarin to English, not English to Mandarin. Zhang Wei will have his own interpreter. His grandson will be with him, too, and the young Zhang Wei speaks fluent English. We’d rather have you do it rather than call someone external.”

  “If that’s their preference, I’m happy to help,” she said. “But it will slow down the work we’re doing on the watermarking, as well as my plans to implement the new three-step biometric authentication process. I had sessions scheduled all week with the coding team, and the project can’t go forward without me. That’ll be delayed.”

  “It’s worth it to facilitate Malcolm and Hendrick’s meeting with the Zhang Wei Group,” Vann told her. “I’ll make sure everyone is on board with the new timetable.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Will we fly down with Malcolm and Hendrick tomorrow?”

  “They’re already in San Francisco, at Magnolia Plaza,” he told her. “Be prepared for an intense couple of days. Hendrick, Malcolm, Drew and I have back-to-back meetings scheduled with Zhang Wei and his people all through Thursday and Friday.”

  Sophie’s mouth curved in a slight smile. “I’m no stranger to hard work or long days.”

  “Of course not.” Vann felt awkward and flustered, his mind wiped blank by that secret smile and what it did to her full lower lip. “My executive assistant, Belinda, has the briefing paper she was going to give to Hsu Li. She’ll arrange for a car to pick you up tomorrow morning. Talk to her about the travel details, and I’ll see you on the plane.”

  “Great,” she said. “Until tomorrow, then.”

  He turned and walked away, appalled at himself for feeling so sweaty and rattled. It already felt sleazy to gather information on a colleague without her knowledge.

  It would be even worse if he got all hot and bothered while doing it.

  But there was no question of getting sexually involved with her. He never got involved with coworkers, much less subordinates. That was begging for disaster.

  Vann ran his sex life with the same detachment he used for his professional life. His hookups were organized to never inconvenience him. He never brought his lovers to his own home, and was equally reluctant to go to theirs.

  He favored hotels. Neutral ground, where he could make some excuse after he was done and just go, with no drama. And he was careful to sever the connection before his lovers got too attached.

  He was a numbers guy. He liked control. He kept his guard up. That made him a good CFO, and it had made him a good soldier, too. He was chill under fire. He’d learned from the best.

  Sex was fun, and giving satisfaction to his lovers was a point of honor, but emotionally, it ended right where it started for him. It never went anywhere.

  Which worked for him. He was fine right where he was.

  He had no playbook for coping with feelings like this. He didn’t even recognize himself. Muddled and speechless. Distracted with sexual fantasies and embarrassing urges.

  He had to stay sharp and analytical. Vann didn’t buy Tim Bryce’s accusation. It just didn’t fit with his impression of Sophie Valente.

  He needed to find out more about her to defend her innocence effectively, but that was going to be a hell of a challenge, if just listening to that woman speak Italian on the phone reduced him into stammering and staring.

  Not a great beginning.

  Two

  Good thing Sophie’s chair was right behind her when Vann Acosta walked out. The adrenaline-fueled starch went right out of Sophie’s knees the second he cleared the door and she plopped down onto the seat. Breathless.

  Going to San Francisco with Vann Acosta? Hoo boy.

  Please. It was ridiculous to get all fluttery. This was a business trip. She was just a resource to be exploited. Besides, she was almost thirty, wise in the ways of the world and thoroughly disillusioned about men. They were more trouble than they were worth, and they always had some fatal flaw or other. In her experience, the more attractive the man, the more fatal the flaw.

  If that rule applied to Vann, then his fatal flaw had to be one colossal humdinger.

  Still
, even if he miraculously had no flaws, he was a C-suite executive at Maddox Hill, which was a flaw itself, for all intents and purposes. She was walking a fine line already, juggling a demanding job with her own secret agenda. The firm’s chief financial officer was sexually off-limits. A thousand times over.

  But Vann Acosta fascinated her. He was the youngest CFO that Maddox Hill had ever had, and he’d held that title for almost five years now. Company gossip painted him as a numbers god. He could have made far more money than he made at Maddox Hill if he’d gone to work for a hedge fund or opened his own.

  If watercooler gossip was to be believed, he stayed out of loyalty to Drew Maddox. They’d been comrades in arms in Iraq, along with Zack Austin, who was in charge of Maddox Hill’s security. Both of whom, coincidentally enough, were dreamboat hotties in their own right. The Maddox Hill Heartthrobs, they were called. Every straight woman who worked at Maddox Hill had her favorite of the trio, but from day one, it was Vann Acosta who commanded all of Sophie’s attention.

  It was late, and she had to scramble to reorganize her week, so she set off, stopping here and there to reschedule meetings and tweak deadlines. In the months that she’d been here, she’d found Maddox Hill a good place to work. She hadn’t made close friends yet, since she took her own sweet time with that, but she had lots of pleasant acquaintances.

  She leaned into Tim Bryce’s office, tapping on the open door. “Hi, Tim.”

  Surprised, Tim spilled coffee on his hand and cursed, flapping his fingers in the air.

  “Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Not your fault,” Tim said tightly. “Just clumsy today.”

  “I came by to let you know that we have to reschedule the team meetings for tomorrow and Friday,” she told him. “I’m going down to San Francisco to fill in for Hsu Li. They need an interpreter for the Zhang Wei negotiations. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “Tuesday actually. I’ll be coming back from the wedding on Monday. I won’t be in to work that day.” Tim pulled some tissues from a pack on his desk and dabbed at the coffee stain on his sleeve. “I’ll have Weston email out a memo and reschedule the team meeting. Tuesday afternoon work for you?”

  “Tuesday sounds great. Thanks. Have a great week.”

  “You, too,” he said, rubbing at his sleeve. “We’ll miss you. But we all must bow to the will of the masters.”

  She hesitated. “Tim? Is everything okay? Other than scalding yourself, I mean?”

  “Fine,” he said emphatically. “Everything’s fine.”

  “I’m glad. Later, then.”

  Sophie made her way into the open plan area, admiring the walls of glass, the towering ceilings and the lofted walkway that led to the corporate offices above. She liked working in beautiful places. Life was too short to hang out in ugly ones.

  Drew Maddox strode by. The Maddox Hill CEO was surrounded by his usual entourage, and all the women in the room tracked his progress hungrily with their eyes. She hardly blamed them. Maddox was gorgeous, as well as rich, famous and talented. He’d designed the building she was standing in, the firm’s Seattle headquarters. The striking skyscraper was constructed out of eco-sustainable wood products, and the lattice of red-tinted beams overhead was made of cross-laminated timber, as strong as concrete and steel, but much more beautiful.

  Drew Maddox had been the first of the Heartthrob trio to fall, after his highly publicized romance with Jenna Somers. His wedding was this weekend, and scores of female employees were mourning their dashed hopes.

  But all was not yet lost. They still had Vann Acosta and Zack Austin to cling to.

  Sophie was surprised to be on Acosta’s radar at all. She’d been introduced to him, but he’d barely seemed to notice.

  Better not to be noticed, she reminded herself. She was keeping a low profile while awaiting her chance to make contact with Malcolm Maddox, the company founder. Malcolm was semiretired, leaving most of the decision-making to his nephew, Drew. He spent most of his time in his luxury home on Vashon Island.

  Approaching a reclusive, elderly, world-famous architect who seldom ventured from his island home was easier said than done. And Malcolm Maddox was a grumpy, curmudgeonly old man who, famously, did not suffer fools gladly.

  Damn good thing she was nobody’s fool.

  The assignment this weekend was a perfect opportunity to encounter Malcolm, but it came with a hitch—Vann Acosta looming over her, watching her with his smoldering eyes. Distracting her from her mission while she most needed to keep her wits together.

  Laser-sharp focus, please. No forbidden lust allowed.

  But damn, it was hard. She was a tall woman, at five-foot-nine, but Vann Acosta made her feel like a little slip of a thing, towering over her at six-foot-three. And those thick shoulders? Mmm. She wanted to sink her fingers into his solid bulk and just squeeze.

  She loved his rangy build. All lean, taut muscle and bone, with those huge, big-knuckled hands that looked so capable. Those wide shoulders. Pure, raw physical power vibrated right through his perfectly tailored suit and blazed out of his eyes. It made her nervous, in a restless, ticklish, delicious sort of way. She could get addicted to the feeling.

  His face was angular; his nose had a bump on it. He had a strong jaw, and his mouth managed to be both grim and sensual. She loved the dark slashing line of his eyebrows. The glossy texture of his thick dark hair.

  She couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to wind her fingers into it...and yank him toward her. Get over here, you.

  Stop it right now. Not the time or place.

  Vann had a huge corner office, and his executive assistant, Belinda Vasquez, guarded it jealously. She was a square-built lady in her late fifties with jet-black hair, and she eyeballed Sophie as she approached, her red mouth puckering in anticipatory disapproval. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Sophie Valente,” Sophie said. “I’ll be filling in for Hsu Li as translator in San Francisco. Mr. Acosta said to speak to you about the briefing paper and the travel arrangements.”

  “Ah, yes. He mentioned that. I have that briefing paper for you right here.” Belinda reached down into a drawer and pulled out a thick folder with Confidential written across the corner. She pushed it across the desk. “That’s for you.” She pushed a notepad and pen after it. “And write down your address and cell phone number for me to give to the driver, please. He’ll be there to pick you up at 3:45 a.m.”

  Sophie put the folder under her arm, taken aback. “Wow. That’s early.”

  Belinda smirked. “I know, right? Malcolm and Hendrick like to get an early start. Oh, and clothes. It’s regular business wear for the meetings, but there’s almost always a reception at the end of the second day, so be sure to bring a nice cocktail dress.”

  “Will do,” Sophie said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Ah, there you are!” Belinda’s face lit up as she looked at someone over Sophie’s shoulder. “I was just squaring away the travel details with Sophie.”

  “Excellent.” Vann’s deep, resonant voice sent a ripple of emotion rushing up from someplace deep inside her. She braced herself and turned toward him.

  “I was about to tell her to hide some energy bars and Red Bull in her purse,” Belinda said. “Collette and Hsu Li tell me horror stories about those interpreting sessions.”

  Sophie met Vann’s eyes with some effort. “Horror stories?”

  “Oh, those architects just never stop blabbering.” Belinda chuckled, shaking her head. “You’ll be at it from morning till night, hon. They’ll squeeze you dry like a lemon.”

  “I can take it,” she said. “Let ’em squeeze.”

  Yikes. That had sounded so terribly suggestive. The nervous silence that followed didn’t help. Her face went hot.

  Belinda cleared her throat with a prim cough. “We
ll, good, then. As long as you’re psychologically prepared for a grind. That’s all from my end. Your hotel room is all set.”

  “I’ll fill you in on any last-minute details on the plane,” Vann said.

  “Great,” Sophie said, backing away. “I’ll go get organized. See you at dawn.”

  She’d never seen his smile before. It was more devastating than she’d imagined. She set off, trying not to bump into walls and hoping that no one was watching.

  But she had to stay focused. Her secret agenda was top priority, and now she was closer than ever to accomplishing her mission: to obtain a specimen of Malcolm Maddox’s DNA for the genetics lab. Not that she doubted her mother’s word, but Mom was gone now, and couldn’t provide the proof Sophie needed. She was all alone with this.

  She had proof already, by virtue of the DNA sample she’d gotten from Malcolm’s niece, Ava, some weeks before. The lab techs had assured her that the results were conclusive, so getting a sample from Malcolm was overkill at this point.

  Still, it was overkill she felt she needed. She wanted a sheaf of hard scientific evidence in her hand before she looked Malcolm Maddox in the eye and told him that she was his biological daughter.

  Three

  Vann felt his tension rise when the attendant showed Sophie Valente to her seat, across the aisle, in the small private plane. He hadn’t slept well. He kept dreaming of Sophie, and waking up agitated and sweaty, heart thudding.

  He was accustomed to being in control. He managed his staff smoothly, pulling just the right strings to get what he wanted out of people. And all that hard-won managerial skill went up in smoke whenever this woman walked into a room.

  Sophie gave him a cool and distant smile. “Good morning.”

  A curt answering nod was all he could manage. He tried to focus on the financials on his laptop screen but he couldn’t concentrate. His senses were overwhelmed.

  Not that she was showing off. If anything, she’d dressed down today. She wore a white silk blouse, a tan pencil skirt and a tailored jacket. Her hair was wound tightly into a sleek updo. Little tasteful swirls of gold rested on her well-shaped earlobes. She wore elegant brown suede pumps on her slender feet.