Chapter 17

At a table in a pristine—borderline sterile—meeting hall, Juergen, in full-on asshole mode, raged. Right from the start, the schedule screw-up, plus his usual barely restrained gruff demeanor, taxed everyone’s patience. After my team paired off with his experts, we stood, bullshitting each other over coffee, but as he spouted on about his disappointment, all the plans that had been shifted, blah, blah, blah, my memory filled with Daniella.

Once at the hotel, I had barely enough time to drag a razor over my face. Yet her wide grin and hushed comments as she roamed the expansive suite, inspecting its amenities, had me smiling.

“You gonna be alright?” I had asked her while slipping back into my suit jacket. “Knowing Juergen, the meeting will run late.”

“Si, mi amor,” she replied, stepping closer. As her fingers took over fixing my tie, those gorgeous brown pools twinkled. “Maybe, after unpacking, I’ll call—”

“—your girlfriend?” I finished with a chuckle.

“Um-hmm.” She hopped onto her toes to tap her soft, waxy lips to mine. “Sky already texted. She, uh, reminded me to say ... you owe her, corazón.”

“I do.” I ran my hands along her flanks and smiled wider. “Now, let me go, or we’ll end up naked and sweaty. And I’ll get fired.”

“Aww, we wouldn’t want that”—her hand dropped to run nails in a gentle swirl over my trousers—”would we, hmm?” After one more quick press of her lips, she pranced from my grip with a quiet giggle.

“Tigh! Gott damn it. Are you listening to me?”

At the heavy German accent, I flicked back to reality. Juergen’s square-jawed, jowly, blue-eyed visage. Although in his late-fifties and possessing a larger belly than I remembered, he remained solid. While he tried to be imposing, I had a few inches of height on him. Plus, no belly.

“Yeah, Juergen.” I raised the mug of Ethiopian-blend coffee to my lips. “I hear you. Times are tough. You’re offering me the best deal.” After taking a healthy swig, I locked onto his narrowing eyes. “But here’s the thing. We both know you need this as much as I do. So go ahead”—I gestured with the mug at the clustered people in the room—”do the dance. My offer’s better than the one from the Chinese you met last week.”

That shut him up. Face suddenly ashen, he gasped silently. With his lips opening and closing, I turned and headed for the coffeepot. Yeah, we had good information. God knows, we paid enough for it.

After lunch amid reams of financial documents, we reconvened for the formal review, which slogged on into the early evening. By the time I staggered from the elevator and lurched into the suite, the sun was an orange smear, glittering beyond the balcony’s open French doors.

Less than an hour remained until the reception. Yes, Juergen’s delay tactics again. At least the function would be in the hotel’s ballroom, so no rushing across the city.

“Is that you, mi amor?” came from the bedroom.

“Yeah. Sorry, you get a chance to eat,” I called out as my stomach rumbled.

“Si, a snack.”

“Okay, good.” I nodded, tearing at the tie.

As the entrance thumped shut behind me, I stripped off my jacket. The reception was formal. After another quick glance at the disappearing sun, I dodged into the bedroom.