Entangled To The CEO

Tasha’s [POV]

“I know who he is,” Stan said.

“I’m just surprised to hear you mention him. Men like Rainer don’t seem like your type.”

“No. No, I’m not really into the type who jumps in and takes credit for someone else’s hard work. Just because he likes to flirt with the camera and make little mini-speeches does not mean he’s contributed to GroGreen.”

I clutched my reports tight to my chest. Stan reached out and gently laid his hands on my shoulders.

“Tasha, honey, everyone knows the hard work you put in on this. Rainer was just a way to make things a little easier on you. You don’t like him?”

“He kind of reminds me of you,” I said. Stan laughed at my sharp tone.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment for me and him. Now that I think about it, you two would be an unstoppable pair. Like us, if only we’d met when I was younger.” I shook my head and smiled at him.

“Rainer Maxwell is a poor substitute for you.”

“Now you’re just trying to make an old man feel good,” Stan said.

His thumbs rubbed gentle circles over my shoulders.

“As far as I can tell all Rainer’s good for is shaking hands, smiling, and picking up the tab at lunch. On the company credit card, of course,” I said. Stan lifted his hands and held them up.

“Don’t look at me; I didn’t hire him. I also had nothing to do with letting him onto your project. Admit it, though; you’re glad someone else handled the P. R.”

“Maybe,” I admitted.

“I just don’t like being on camera.”

“Shame to hear someone so lovely say that,” Stan said.

“Why didn’t you do it this time?” I asked. Stan straightened his tie.

“Time to pass the torch, let the younger generation take over. Besides, I do think that you and Rainer would make a great team. You should give him a chance.”

“I will. Today, at the meeting. If he isn’t there, then he’s missed his chance,” I said. Stan grinned.

“Good. Make him earn it.” I reached around him and ignored his wider grin as I brushed past him.This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

“Speaking of the meeting, I don’t want to be late.” Stan plucked the stack of reports out of my arms and carried them for me.

“Why not be late for once? You’re the project leader. Make them all wait.” Amy glanced up as we walked out of my office.

She smiled at me and jumped right up. “Is there anything I should do, Ms. Nichols?”

“Have you read the binder yet, Amy?” I asked. “Uh, no. I guess I can do that,” Amy said. Stan winked at my temporary assistant.

“Be good to yourself, Amy. Listen to Ms. Nichols. You let her train you and the sky’s the limit around here.”

“If I still have a job in an hour,” I said. Stan laughed.

“You think that’s the way this meeting is going to go?”

“Why? Do you know something? Tell me what you know.” I followed Stan so closely we bumped into each other when he stopped.

“I don’t need to tell you anything,” Stan said.

“Did you create the best product you and your team could make? Yes. Did you listen to all the beta testers and make sure everything was right? Yes. Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” I tried to pry my reports out of his arms, but Stan held them, hostage.

“I wouldn’t worry either if I had the entire Eastman fortune to back me up.”

“Just say the word, and it’s yours,” Stan said. I swatted his shoulder.

“Stop. I have to get to this meeting. What kind of mentor keeps his prodigy from the most important meeting of her year?” Stan gave a melodramatic sigh.

“And here I thought my party was going to be the most important meeting of your year.” My insides froze.

“What party? Why?” Stanislas Eastman lived in one of the most iconic and coveted mansions in Mill Valley.

His parties were legendary, partly because he only threw one once in a blue moon, and always for a reason.

The last party had been to celebrate his surviving a heart attack. They always had a grim theme to contrast with the sparkling opulence.

“Don’t worry about that now. Just take your invitation, otherwise, you’ll never get past the gates,” Stan said.

He nodded to his suit coat pocket. I frowned at him, knowing he was up to no good. As soon as I reached into his pocket and felt the heavy, embossed card stock, Stan laughed and sprang away as if I’d tickled him.

I snatched the black envelope out of his pocket and held out my hands for my reports. He handed them over, gave me an irresistible wink, and headed off to the elevators.

“Good luck,” he called over his shoulder. I felt lucky as if Stan’s charmed life was rubbing off on me until I reached the corner.

I had to remember that a few important details separated my chances from Stan’s.

First off, he was raised with silver spoons, the best schools, and a path to success paved just for him.

That, and he was a male executive in what was still a man’s world.

Maybe the party was for me with its gothic black invitations and ominous flare.

GroGreen had cost too much to produce, and I was being fired. I was sure of it. I started to race along the hallway.

Of course, it was Stan’s sense of humor I was dealing with.

The funeral-style invitation could contain hearty congratulations for all I knew. Maybe I had cause to celebrate, and my mentor wanted to toast my success.

I slowed down when I saw James Berger leaning at the door of the conference room.

He was trading jokes and barbs with someone inside, and his loud laughter echoed down the hall.

I could hear others chuckling as well, though I didn’t know how they found him funny.

James’ suits were always too shiny, his style too flashy, and his stories too over-the-top.

He spent money as he hated it and it showed through his desperate attempts to seem worldly as well as wealthy.

Wealthy was a word for Stanislas Eastman. It implied an air of elegance and charm.

James Berger was just rich. His name was synonymous with glitzy parties and ridiculous wastes of money.

Whatever teasing exchange he’d started, James ended with a gesture that combined the thumbs up and the middle finger.

As soon as he stepped beyond the door, I saw his expression drop. He looked tired and unhappy.

“All right, Tasha, see for yourself. Money might not buy happiness,” I whispered to myself.

The thought stopped m e. For the past few years, ever since I joined Hyperion, I had judged my success by my bank account.

By that standard, James Berger had wild success. It took seeing his change of face to realize that real success had to come from something else.

James passed me in the hall, his expression brightening to a lascivious smile.

“Hey there. New around here?” I bit my lip hard and ignored him. The biggest meeting of my career was just steps away, and I wasn’t going to let another junior executive get in my way.

I marched past him and into the conference room doorway.

There I froze again. I was so unaccustomed to being late that the full room surprised me. Then surprise turned to dismay.

The only open seat was next to Rainer Maxwell. He looked up and his electric-blue eyes locked onto mine.

I felt a zing of excitement but told myself it was only the big news about to be revealed. If only I could sit next to anyone else, I might enjoy hearing how the product launch went.

I scanned the room again, but it was a standing room only.