Полная версия
This Tender Melody
Now she was worried. Her pulse sped up, her mouth went dry. What were they keeping from her? âWill somebody please tell me what is going on?â
âIâm sorry, baby. So sorry.â He had yet to look up,
This was getting pretty disconcerting. First theyâd stared at her, now her father was taking evasive maneuvers to avoid looking at her, and apologizing on top of that? Something had to give.
The silence grew thick, palpable. Her brow creasing into a frown, she looked to her mother for an explanation.
âYour father and I discussed it, and we donât feel youâre quite ready for the CEO position, at least not yet.â Her motherâs eyes were damp, and held what appeared to be sympathy.
The words hit her like a handful of crushed ice to the face. She jerked back in her seat, drew her hand away from her fatherâs. âWhat do you mean, Iâm not ready? Iâve been with FTI my whole professional lifeâeverything Iâve done was in preparation for this day.â
âI know, Eve,â her father said. âBut youâre still in need of a bit more training in the operations of the company. When youâre ready, the job is yours.â He reached for his glass of tea.
This was the last thing sheâd expected to hear. Sheâd been watching her father run FTI all her life. Some of her earliest memories were of toddling around the Franklin Technologies building and sitting in her fatherâs big chair, coloring on scrap paper. Aside from that, she held an MBA with honors and had been closely studying the inner workings of the company for the past several years. She worked hard every day at the top of the finance department, so how could they think she wasnât ready? âWhoâs going to take over now, until Iâm âreadyâ?â She emphasized the last word, struggling to remain respectful to her parents despite the negative emotions swirling inside her.
âHeâs an old friend, and a brilliant technologist. Heâs coming out of retirement to help out, until youâre ready.â He finally made eye contact with her. âI still have every faith in your abilities, Eve. But for now, I feel this is the best way to proceed.â
That drew a bitter chuckle from her lips. So, an old man, and an outsider, was coming into their family business and denying her the chance to run the company? âSeriously, Daddy? Youâd rather turn things over to a senior citizen than give me a chance to prove myself?â
He shook his head. âI didnât say he was old, just that he was an old friend. Youâll meet him at tomorrowâs board meeting. Weâll make the official announcement then.â
âWhat if I never meet your standards? Will this person get to keep the job, then?â
He pursed his lips. âThatâs pretty unlikely, Eve.â
Anger and hurt coursed through her veins. Based on what she was hearing, her opinion on the matter didnât count, it had already been decided. She looked down at her untouched pasta. While the delicious aroma of garlic, tomato sauce and cheese filled her nostrils, she found sheâd lost her appetite. Pushing back from the table, she stood.
âDonât run off, Eve. Stay and enjoy dinner. Weâll talk this through.â Her motherâs eyes pleaded with her.
âSorry, Mama. Iâm not hungry anymore. Besides, it doesnât look like thereâs anything to talk about. Iâll see you tomorrow morning.â Tears stung the corners of her eyes. All she wanted to do was get out of there before they saw her cry. Snatching her cardigan from the back of the chair, she shrugged into it.
Joseph rose to his feet. âEve, I expect you to be professional about all this. I havenât lost faith in you, baby. Once you learn how to handle the shareholders, the public relations end and a few other things, youâll be ready. Youâve got to understand...â
Her eyes locked with his, she ignored the tears streaming down her cheek. âIâm sorry, Daddy, but I donât understand any of this.â
Before anyone could say another word, she bolted from the room. Tears blinded her path, but she swiped them away as she grabbed her purse and keys from the stone table near the front door.
With her mother calling her name, she flung open the door and ran out, slamming it behind her.
* * *
When Eve walked into the boardroom Tuesday morning, the space was alive with conversation. Most of the seats around the table were full, and as she pulled out her chair to the right of her fatherâs seat at the head of the table, she exchanged greetings with the other executives and board members present. In a way, this was just like any of the other board meetings she attended on a monthly basis. She knew there would be departmental reports, motions and a matter of dull details to hash out. But todayâs meeting would be different, and she wasnât sure how sheâd react when the time came to make the announcement.
Last night, sheâd cried herself to sleep. Today, however, she would do her best to honor her fatherâs request and be professional. The die had been cast, and there was no need of her making a fool of herself in front of everyone. No matter how hard it was, she was going to try to keep her emotions in check, at least until she was alone.
The room continued to fill with people as 10 a.m. approached. Louise came in, sat across from her in the chair to the left of her fatherâs seat and offered a small smile. Her mother reached across the tableâs polished surface and grasped her hand. Eve said nothing, but offered a nod and a small smile of her own in return.
At two minutes till, her father finally strode in. Another man entered the room on his heels, and she felt a charge in the air. The atmosphere changed around her as a familiar scent filled her nostrils.
Her eyes traveled up the body of the man accompanying her father. His muscular frame was draped in a well-fitting gray suit, soft blue shirt and deep blue tie. Her gaze went higher, to meet the manâs face.
The dark eyes met hers, and recognition lit them almost immediately.
Shit!
Her mind registered who he was: the shirtless brother in the background of the picture Lina had texted her. Before she could stop herself, she said aloud, âOh my God, itâs the elevator and volleyball guy...â
All eyes turned on her, including the sexy ones belonging to the brother in the gray suit.
Heâd heard her.
She closed her eyes, and wished the floor would open up and swallow her.
* * *
What is she talking about?
Darius blinked, held his eyes closed for a moment, then opened them again.
But that didnât change anything. The beautiful woman heâd seen on the elevator yesterday was still there, wide-eyed.
Today she wore a navy blue sheath dress that just grazed her knees. He found he much preferred it to yesterdayâs pantsuit, as this getup allowed him an unobstructed view of her long, silky-looking brown legs.
Thinking he should respond to what sheâd said, he dragged his eyes upward, toward her face. âIâm sorry, but I canât say Iâve ever played volleyball in an elevator.â It was a nonsense response to match the nonsense statement, and he hoped it would break the tension hanging between them.
She appeared mortified, her cheeks filled with red. She dipped her head, lay a graceful hand over her brow, as if doing her best to disappear. âThat didnât come out right.â
Aware of the watching eyes of everyone present, he offered an easy chuckle. âApparently.â
A few laughs sounded around the table.
Someone even made a comment about how the size of an elevator simply wasnât conducive to a good volleyball game.
âUnless weâre talking about a handheld game,â someone else interjected.
To him, they were just disembodied voices in a crowded room. His eyes stayed on the pretty lady whoâd captured his attention the previous day. The one who was now doing her best to avoid looking at him. âItâs all right to misspeak now and then, you know.â
She looked up at him, her face tight, the brown eyes narrowed. âForget what I said. What I mean is, Iâve seen you before.â
âHow could I forget?â He smiled at her, coming a little closer to her seat, and taking her hand. âItâs nice to see you again, Miss...â
Her hand trembled, and as she tilted her face to look at him, a silken lock of her upswept hair fell into her face. He found the sight captivating.
Someone cleared their throat. âI see youâve met my daughter, Eve.â
He jerked his head around, and saw Franklin there, looking on. Releasing her hand, he studied his mentor, whose face was unreadable. âThis is your daughter?â
Franklin nodded in response.
Turning back to her, he met her curious eyes. âPleased to meet you, again, Miss Franklin. Iâm Darius Winsteadâan old friend of your fatherâs.â
In a moment, her expression changed from curiosity to anger. Her lovely brows furrowed, her sweet little painted mouth twisted into a scowl. In an outraged whisper, she said, âYou! Youâre the old friend?â
Not wanting to rile her any further, he stepped back. âYes, I guess I am.â
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if becoming aware of the other people in the room. Blowing out a loud sigh, she folded her arms over her chest and turned toward the center of the table. She was obviously angry about something. But rather than say anything else, and risk a shouting match with her in front of the people he would soon lead, he rounded the table and took a seat in an empty leather chair across from her. She cut her eyes at him, a brief gesture that communicated her desire to either slap him, or let the air out of his tires, or both. He couldnât tell and he didnât want to find out.
So, the gorgeous woman from the elevator was the old manâs daughter. He never would have guessed it, having only seen pictures of her as a child scattered around Franklinâs office. What really upset him, though, was the way she reacted when heâd introduced himself. Why was she so annoyed that he called her father a friend?
Franklin stood behind the chair at the head of the table, and called the meeting to order. Soon the old man had called on the board secretary to read aloud the minutes of the last meeting. Darius knew he should probably pay attention to what was being said, but this was the part of business that bored him into a coma-like state. When he looked across the table at a tight-faced Eve, he saw her drumming the eraser end of a sharpened pencil on the tabletop. At least he wasnât the only person struggling to stay awake.
To keep his eyelids from growing any heavier, he took a moment to look around the room. It was a very modern space, with soft gray walls and matching carpet. One wall was similar to the one in Franklinâs office, all glass, and looked out onto Trade Street. The other three walls were hung with framed magazine and newspaper articles about FTI, as well as a few pieces of colorful abstract art. The table they were sitting around was long and rectangular, made of glossy polished mahogany or some other dark wood. The twenty or so people present were all sitting in chairs the same shade of dark brown leather, with padded armrests. He shifted in his seat. It wasnât as comfy as the memory foam one upstairs, but the slight discomfort might be just enough to keep him awake.
He heard Franklin call his daughterâs name and ask her to summarize the past monthâs financial reports. She stood, tugging at the hem of the sheath dress. An aide walked over and turned on the projector set up in front of the roomâs only blank wall. As the aide operated a laptop slide show, Eve pushed the wayward lock of hair away from her face and began to speak. Angling herself away from him and facing more toward her father, she spoke about profits and losses, overhead and the other particulars of the company budget with confidence. Watching her, it was pretty obvious she knew what she was talking about, and was likely damn good at her job. Why was Franklin so sure she wasnât ready for the position of CEO? From where he sat, she seemed altogether capable and intelligent.
Once the slide show and her presentation came to an end, she sat down again. Impressed with both her body itself and her body of knowledge, Darius kept his eyes on her for the rest of the meeting.
Finally, mercifully, the meeting came to an end. Most of the people in the room filtered out, but Darius remained, along with Franklin and his daughter. The old man, whoâd stood as the board members exited, sat down again. Eve remained in her seat, and they both looked in his direction. Taking the hint, he got up and moved down to the seat Mrs. Franklin had been occupying, with the old man between them.
Franklin started. âEve, I...â
She cut him off. âPlease excuse me, Daddy, but I would really like to know what qualifies your so-called âold friendâ to run this company. What kind of experience does he have that I donât?â She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table.
Darius heard the challenge in her voice. âStraight to the point, I see. I like that.â
She pursed her lips. âThen why donât you answer my question, Mr. Winstead?â
So itâs like that. She was going to get formal with him, condescendingly. That was fine. He liked a little spark of excitement in his life. If she wanted to play the game that way, he had no qualms about laying it all out on the table. He sat back in his chair, laced his fingers in front of him. âPlease, call me Darius. As for my qualifications, I hold a bachelor of science in computer science, and an MBA as well as a masterâs in information technologies. I interned here at FTI in the nineties, owned my own software company, Winstead Development, in the early two-thousands. I invented the first smartphone operating system, sold it and for the past six years Iâve been enjoying a pretty sweet retirement.â He cocked his head to one side. âDoes that answer your question?â
Silence.
Her dark lashes fluttered in time with her rapid blinking, the surprise evident on her face. Her cherry-red lips hung just slightly open.
Franklin looked on without a word, although the slight upturn of his mouth gave away his amusement.
The room grew so quiet, he could hear her breathing. For a moment, he watched the rise and fall of her chest as she leaned close over the tabletop.
âMs. Franklin? Have I sufficiently satisfied your curiosity?â He flexed his fingers.
Closing her mouth, she swallowed. Making direct eye contact with him, she nodded. âYes, Mr. Winstead. Iâd say you have.â She sat up, and pressed her back against the chairâs tall backrest.
Franklin pulled a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his sport jacket, dabbed at the moisture gathering on his brow. âGood. Now I feel I can leave you two alone to get acquainted.â He stood, retrieved his briefcase from the floor and made his way toward the open door. âYou two play nice.â With that, he exited.
Darius looked across the table at his new colleague. Sheâd let her head fall back against the top of the backrest, her eyes focused on the ceiling tiles above them. She used her feet to swivel the chair a few degrees left, then a few degrees right.
He watched her for a few moments. Something was obviously on her mind, but with the bit of tension still hanging in the air, he didnât know if he should ask.
But finally curiosity got the better of him. âDo you think we can get along, Ms. Franklin? Can we keep this professional?â Before the last word left his lips, he knew it was going to be mighty hard to keep things that way with her. She was a beauty, full of fire and grace, like a Miles Davis recording.
She straightened, looked at him with a slight frown. âDonât worry. Professionalism is my area of expertise. You are standing between me and my destiny, but Iâm not petty.â
He circled the table until he was standing next to her chair. âI donât doubt it, but thatâs not what I meant.â
Her expression changed, and she looked away. âI donât know what youâre talking about, then.â
âSure you do. From the moment I stepped into that elevator with you yesterday, youâve been on my mind.â He knew he was taking a risk, but he couldnât resist. With his fingertips, he touched the edge of her hairline, brushing back the hair that had fallen over her forehead once again. It was just as soft to his touch as heâd imagined it would be. âThereâs something between us. Something incredible.â
The smallest of sighs slipped from her lips, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Shifting in her seat to draw away from his touch, she shook her head. âLetâs not even go down that road.â
He wasnât about to let Ms. Sassy Mouth squirm her way out of this one. âAre you trying to tell me you donât feel it?â He touched her again, this time brushing his fingertips against her cheek.
The brief contact was enough to get her to shift again, then stand. When she did, her body was mere centimeters from his. âIt doesnât matter. I donât date people I work with, Mr. Winstead.â
He smiled. Her mouth was telling him what she didnât do, but what she hadnât said resonated with him even more. She hadnât denied her attraction to him, sheâd only dismissed it as irrelevant. He eased nearer to her, closing the gap between them until his chest grazed hers. âI canât just ignore how you make me feel. But call me Darius, and we can agree to disagree on this.â
âWe both know that if I called you by your first name, Iâd be encouraging you.â She raised her eyes to meet his, and for a moment, he saw the passion there. Her lips parted, as if she had more to say.
Of their own accord, his fingertips found the softness of her cheek once more. Whatever she was going to say next was muffled as he pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was short, fleeting, but unbearably sweet. Her mouth was softer and more intoxicating than anything heâd ever encountered. When she pulled away, he could feel the buttery remnants clinging to his lipsâtraces of her cherry lipstick left behind.
In the aftermath, she took a step back but didnât break eye contact with him. To his mind, she looked conflicted, as if she couldnât decide what to do or say next.
âHave a good day, Darius.â
The soft-spoken words still hanging in the air, she gathered her purse and slipped from the room.
Chapter 4
Around eight that evening, Eve pulled her car into a VIP parking space at the Charlotte Westin. Bar 10, a favorite haunt of Eve, Lina and their book club buddies, dominated the first floor of the hotel. Ophelia, Cara and Tammy werenât joining them tonight, and she was looking forward to some one-on-one time with her closest friend.
Sheâd spent the entire crosstown drive replaying her encounter with Darius. There was something about him that made her common sense drain away. How could she have let herself be drawn in by his good looks and smooth talk? She knew better than to start anything with him, regardless of the fact that his good looks made her eyes sting. Yet sheâd let him kiss her. Sheâd had ample time and the opportunity to stop him but she hadnât. She brought her fingertips to her mouth, remembering what it felt like to have his lips crushed against her own. The memory of his kiss was vivid, intoxicating...and she could never let it happen again.
Realizing she still sat in her car, she unbuckled her seat belt, gathered her keys and purse, and hopped out. The sun hung low on the horizon, almost done with its daily trip across the sky. Up and down College Street, pedestrians strolled by, cars whizzed past and the trees lining the sidewalk swayed in the evening breeze. The beauty of the city wasnât lost on her, but on days like this it took a bit of extra effort to put her own thoughts aside long enough to enjoy it. Perching her sunglasses on top of her head, she entered the hotel in her favorite pair of pearl-white stilettos and sauntered toward the bar. Her eyes scanned the room for her friend.
The atmosphere at Bar 10 made it the perfect place for Eve and her gal pals to hold court. The large windowed wall facing the street gave a beautiful view of the Queen City and its residents coming and going; the comfortable furniture, tasteful decor and accommodating staff all conspired to create an inviting, relaxing destination at the end of a hard day.
Lina sat near the left side of the bar, in a caramel suede armchair beneath the large window that composed the entire wall. Eve spotted her easily, sitting crossed legged on the chair, wearing her typical evening attire: a silver sequined halter top and black pencil skirt with silver stilettos. A black clutch lay on the floor at her feet. Engrossed in the latest issue of Essence magazine on her lap, she didnât notice Eve until she slipped into the chair next to her.
âHey, Eve,â Lina said, looking up from the magazine. âWell, even after surviving another day as a sista in corporate America, you look good, girl.â She glanced out the window, spotting Eveâs car sitting in the lot. âReady to trade war stories?â
Eve smiled, trying to push away her introspective mood. âSure. Weâll see who had the most interesting day.â
âSo.â Lina crossed her long legs. âWhat are you drinking?â
To answer her question, Eve flagged down a passing waiter. âCould I get a frozen cosmo, please?â
âAnd Iâll have a Midori Sour,â Lina added.
âComing right up, ladies.â The waiter disappeared behind the bar to place their order.
With an exaggerated sigh, Eve dropped her black leather designer bag onto the nearby cocktail table and sank back into her chair. âWell, get ready to hear my latest horror story.â
âSpill it.â
âWell, you know I had to sit through one of those dull-as-hell board meetings this morning, but I do that every month. Today, it was even worse because I met the guy whoâs taking my job.â
Linaâs expression conveyed her empathy. âI know you were crushed when your parents told you.â
She shook her head, feeling her emotions rise just thinking about it. âIt amazes me that they didnât even talk to me about it before they made their decision. Iâve been training my whole life for this, and now Iâm losing out, just because they doubt my abilities.â She knew her parents hadnât set out to hurt her, but knowing that they didnât believe in her at such a critical time was a truly painful thing to accept.
âWe both know youâre fully capable of running FTI. Donât worry, theyâll come around.â Lina placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. âWhatâs this new guy like, anyway? Isnât he a friend of your dadâs?â
âYes.â She rolled her eyes, thinking back. âHere I was expecting a baby boomer but the brother who walked in couldnât be more than thirty-five. So, of course, Iâm wondering what a guy this young could possibly have over me, in terms of business acumen and all that.â
Linaâs brow hitched up. âReally? So what does he have?â
She recalled the things Darius had said to her when heâd introduced himself. âHeâs young, but experienced. Heâs educated, has owned a software business previously and apparently invented the first smartphone operating system before retiring a few years ago.â
âWow. Sounds impressive.â
She sighed. âWell, he must hear that a lot. This man is so damn arrogant. I mean, he just walked up in there as if he was just crowned king.â
Lina didnât say anything, but rested her chin in her hands.
âIt gets worse. This isnât the first time I met him.â She grabbed her purse and unzipped the outside compartment, fishing out her phone. âRemember the guy in the elevator the other day, the one I told you about?â
âOh, yeah. You said he was in the picture I sent you from our girlâs weekend at Emerald Isle.â Lina pulled her own phone out of her skirt pocket. âWait, do you mean the new CEO is Elevator Volleyball Guy?â