Dark Horse: Bad Boy Cowboy Romance (23 page)

I nodded. "Think of chains and basements and girls crying out in fear as the man takes her," I explained.

The bartender grimaced for a moment before she caught herself. "Ugh. Seems a little rapey to me."

"Actually, I don't think I'd mind," I replied, taking another thoughtful sip of my drink. "As I see it, it's all about power. It's giving up all power to the man, letting him take full control. It's an exercise in trust, and that's probably why it's such a turn-on for him. Most billionaires get off on power, after all."

Christy just gave a little shrug. "Still, definitely not my kind of thing."

After another moment of silence, while I considered my possible options and she stared at me, Christy spoke up again. "Tali, why do you do this?" she asked suddenly.

"Do what?"

She gestured vaguely in the air. "All of this. The corporate espionage. Seducing and lying to someone in order to steal secrets about their company. It just doesn't seem like a very safe career path."

I set my drink down, considering how to answer the question. For a moment, I considered brushing it off with a light-hearted response, but I'd been friends with Christy for years, and I trusted her.

"Honestly?" I asked.

She nodded. "Give me the truth."

I thought for a moment, composing my reply. "It's because I go where the money is," I finally said. "That's what I learned when I was still working for barely minimum wage. If I wanted to make the big bucks, I had to go where the money was. And in the corporate world, money all gathers at the top of the company. Those are the people with the most cash to throw around, and the only thing that they want, all the way at the tops of their towers, is to see their opponents crumble."

Christy opened her mouth to respond, or maybe ask a question, but I kept talking. "Here, let me try like this. How much do you make as a bartender here, say, every year?"

She shrugged, thinking about it. "Maybe thirty or forty thousand, I guess. Why?"

"Because I can make more than that in a single job," I answered her, grinning. "And when a job takes only a few days to pull off, you can see why it's a nice lifestyle - and why I can't see giving it up and taking a normal job any time soon."

Christy's eyes had bugged out of her head when I revealed how much I made. "You make more than me, in just a few days??" she gasped. "Good god, girl, maybe I'm the one who's in the wrong career track!"

I grinned with her, but the expression fell away from my face after a moment. "Yeah, but it won't matter if I can't figure out how to get to Richard Carlyle, billionaire CEO of Veridian Dynamic, on my own, in the next day or two," I responded. "I only get paid on successes, remember."

Christy nodded, although her eyes were still a little wide as she considered how much money her friend made. "Well, what's his schedule look like?" she asked, reaching down below the bar to grab a drink for herself. "Is there anywhere that he goes regularly, where you might be able to surprise him, or bump into him 'by chance'?" She used air quotes to emphasize the 'by chance' part.

I frowned, and then pulled out my phone. "I bribed one of his assistants to slip me his schedule," I explained as I opened up the document. "Maybe I can find something."

"One of his assistants, you said?"

"Yeah, he's got, like, four of them." I scrolled through the schedule - but then stopped, frowning. "Hold on, this could be something."

Christy tried to lean further over the bar, turning her head to try and read the schedule that was, from her point of view, upside down. "What is it?"

"He's got a reservation at Skyhook," I mused, tapping the appointment with one finger. "But it looks like it's just for him."

"So?"

"So," I explained, "Skyhook is the sort of place where you need to wait a month or longer, even for just a lunch reservation. Why would he have a reservation there if no one else is joining him?"

"Maybe he's a huge foodie?" Christy guessed.

I shook my head. "No, there's another option. Some billionaires will buy a permanent private table of their own at a favorite restaurant, so that they can drop by whenever they want, without needing to get a reservation at all."

Christy nodded, but she didn't look convinced. "I don't see how this helps you, though," she pointed out.

I pointed down at my phone. "Oh, but it does!" I exclaimed, a smile growing on my face as my new plan took shape. "See, now I know one of the places where Richard Carlyle will be - and I know that he's just going there to eat, not to meet with anyone!"

Finally, I saw a matching grin spread across my bartender friend's face as she figured out what I was saying. "At least, he doesn't know that he's meeting with someone," she corrected me.

"Exactly." With a triumphant flourish, I downed the rest of my drink.

There were still plenty more details for me to figure out, but this was a start. I at least knew where I could approach Carlyle. I still had to work out what I would say to him, how I'd get him to trust me, much less trust me enough to show me all of his most secretive plans. But I had a starting point, now.

Over the next few hours, Christy and I kept on chatting back and forth, bouncing different ideas back and forth. I went through a few more drinks over the course of the afternoon, but although my head was buzzing by the time I finally left The Neighborhood to go find some dinner, I had a much better plan formed in my head.

"Good luck, Tali," Christy called out to me as I prepared to depart. "No pressure - maybe you'll end up falling for this guy!"

I rolled my eyes back at her. "You know that I hate that nickname," I half-shouted back to her. "And trust me, the last thing that I intend to do is fall in love! He's a mark that I'm using to get my hands on his company's plans - nothing more!"

Somehow, the bartender didn't look convinced. "Whatever you say," she managed to respond before I left the bar. "One of these days, Tali, I know you're going to find yourself in over your head! And when that happens, I'll help - but I'll also point out that I told you so!"

Chapter 4

Two days later, Richard Carlyle was stepping out of his jet-black Mercedes SLS AMG, tossing the keys off carelessly to the valet standing at attention nearby. He gazed up at the skyscraper in front of him, a massive wall of mirrored glass.

His destination was at the top, and the elevator just indoors carried him swiftly up towards the top floor. The glass walls of the elevator gave Carlyle an unparalleled view of the city around him as he smoothly sailed upwards.

From here, he could of course see his own skyscraper, several blocks further downtown. Veridian Dynamic had started off as a manufacturing company, but had quickly grown, and his predecessor stuck to the idea of expanding out into as many markets as he could manage, seeing it as a strong defense against a crash or downturn in any one sector. Now, there were very few pies in which Veridian didn't dip at least a small finger.

However, although his predecessors had been determined to weather any economic storm, they hadn't planned for being held accountable to the shareholders, Richard thought to himself as he leaned against the glass and watched the skyscrapers drop away below him. And when the economic downturn dragged down profits across the entire board, Veridian's stock price took an entire barrage of hits - and the former CEO quickly found himself pushed out the door, his severance package slung after him along with the contents of his office on the way out.

Richard Carlyle had different plans for Veridian.

Of course, he mused to himself, no one else knew anything more than little bits and pieces of his plan. And for the moment, Carlyle intended to keep things that way. If he kept the whole plan under wraps, he'd not have to worry about his business opponents moving against him and trying to block him.

The elevator dinged as he reached the top floor, and he stepped out into a busy room filled with the soft murmurs of conversations and the clink of glassware and silverware. With every line in his suit crisp and sharp, Richard Carlyle stepped out and headed for the hostess's station.

The Skyhook was one of the trendiest, most expensive, and most sophisticated lunch locations in the city. Located on top of one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city, the views seen from almost any table were practically unparalleled. Skyhook spared no expense in bringing in the freshest ingredients, prepared for each table by master chefs. They even accommodated many of the off-menu orders that their wealthy clients placed - for a sky-high price, of course.

Most of the time, any guest at the Skyhook needed a reservation weeks, if not months, in advance. To avoid having to jump through that hoop (or rather, to save his secretary the effort), Carlyle simply arranged for Veridian to purchase a permanent seat, allowing him to drop by whenever he felt in the mood for some tastefully elegant lunch cuisine.

The hostess recognized him immediately, of course. She gave him a little smile that suggested that she was completely at his disposal as he approached. "Ah, Mr. Carlyle. Right this way, sir. Your dining partner is already here."

Dining partner? For just a moment, Carlyle frowned. He hadn't planned on dining with anyone.

However, as they drew close to his table (a corner table, one of the best seats in the house, with absolutely stellar views up and down Broadway), he saw the slender lines and the figure-hugging dress of the woman already seated there, and he bit back his question. Still, his guard rose up, and he carefully put his poker face in place.

The hostess didn't waste time hanging around. She set the menus down in front of Carlyle and his mysterious female guest, and then vanished. Carlyle knew that a waiter would be at his elbow as soon as he gave the slightest sign he was ready to order. Skyhook also made sure to provide incredible service to its clients.

As soon as he sat down, however, Carlyle turned his flat gaze on the woman across the table from him. "And who are you?" he asked. "I could have you kicked out of here and banned for life, of course."

The woman smiled back at him, ignoring his threat. Her smile, unlike that of the hostess, wasn't professional in the slightest. Instead, it was filled with sensual heat, enough to make Carlyle feel a bit of blood rush to other areas of his anatomy.

"You could," the woman commented, her voice soft and just as sensual as her smile. "But if you do, you'll miss out on quite the opportunity."

Carlyle frowned. "A business opportunity?"

"That too," she replied, and her eyes swept up and down his figure. "In any case, you'd be very sorry that you missed out."

Of course, Carlyle was used to women checking him out. He'd made the "most eligible wealthy bachelors" list for the last several years, and he devoted plenty of time and energy to keeping his muscular figure and tanned, even skin. He never had to worry about running out of sexy, beautiful women who would agree to anything he suggested.

Something about this woman, however, seemed different from the usual endless parade that trooped through his bedroom. He couldn't keep himself from leaning forward, examining her a bit more clearly.

She was short but well proportioned; he guessed that she only stood perhaps five and a quarter feet, well below his own six feet of height. Her skin was tanned lightly but evenly, and her brown hair was expertly colored with both highlights and lowlights. Her clothing was perfectly acceptable for a business setting, of course, but something about the way she wore it, about how it pulled tight across her bust and hips, gave the unmistakable impression that she had a knockout body hiding beneath. Her big brown eyes were filled with intelligence as she watched him check her out.

Richard Carlyle had always trusted his intuition. And right now, he decided to trust it again. He leaned back on the chair, picking up his menu with one hand but still watching the woman over the top.

"And your name?" he asked.

"Natalia," the woman replied, still giving him that sexy, heated little smile.

"Natalia," Carlyle repeated, rolling the name around in his mouth. "Very well, Natalia. Let's eat, and you can tell me about your opportunity."

Chapter 5

By the end of lunch, I knew that I had Carlyle eating out of the palm of my hand.

It had taken me several bribes, plus a good bit of lying, to get this far. Of course, just knowing the man's name hadn't been enough to get me into Skyhook at his table. I'd eventually resorted to breaking into his secretary's office, rigging my own phone to forward through the secretary's desk phone to Skyhook, and placing the reservation ahead of time. My eventual plan had been a good bit more complex than what I'd fleshed out a couple days previously with Christy over drinks.

Still, it had all been worth it for that brief little expression of surprise when Richard Carlyle spotted me sitting at his personal table.

Once he sat down, I fed him the story I'd carefully crafted ahead of time. In my story, Carlyle's plans were already partially leaked to a competitor, and I'd been able to catch a sneak peek of them at the competitor's office. I didn't mention Geoff Britton or his company by name, of course, but I left subtle clues pointing to him as the true culprit.