Entangled To The CEO

Tasha’s [POV]

“Tasha, over here.” Rainer stood up and gestured to the open seat. The whole team glanced up, and I had no choice.

My department managers and team members made a path as I scooted around the long conference table toward Rainer.

He smiled, and I felt another bloom of heat. I swore I told Amy to turn down the conference room thermostat before the meeting started.

That many people packed into one room made everyone hot.

Warm, I meant warm. Not hot. Rainer Maxwell was not hot. At least not to me. I took a deep breath and tried to stop my babbling thoughts.

This was my meeting, and it already looked like I answered Rainer.

I had to make sure to get the upper hand.

“Here. Looks like this seat is for you,” Rainer said. He pulled out the office chair and held out his hand.

I pulled back my stack of reports and set them down on the long table myself. Dozens of curious eyes watched us. I couldn’t believe it.

Rainer was using chivalry to take control of the meeting.

He looked like the leader, and I was just some girl sitting at his side. I ground my teeth.

“Thanks,” I managed to say in a civil tone. I sat down and exhaled a sharp sigh to ward off his warm and inviting scent of spice and leather.

My cheeks felt hot but rushing down the hallways was responsible for that.

The hard flex of his arm muscles against the soft, tailored wool of his suit coat drew my eyes, and I had to pretend to pluck an invisible speck of lint off my sleeve.

His brown hair was so dark that it caught the shine of the conference room lights.

Rainer wore it slicked back with some glossy product, and, for a moment, I imagined what his wavy hair would be like if it let loose.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Nichols,” Rainer said.

“What? Oh, yes. Thanks, Raymond.” I held my breath. Rainer had me so tongue-tied that I called him the wrong name!

Then Stan’s wicked voice whispered in my head, and I relaxed.

My slip-up had the perfect effect.

All around us, my team members assumed that I had no idea who Rainer Maxwell was.

They turned back to the thick packets on the conference room table and resumed their normal conversations.

He was no big deal if I didn’t know him. Rainer’s best bet was to pretend he hadn’t heard me call him the wrong name.

Suddenly, he had to check the messages on his phone. I grabbed a packet from the middle of the conference table and got comfortable.

Too bad the dense reports and vague tables swam in and out of my focus. He had strong hands.

Not the manicured hands of a white collar worker, but the wide, square palms and long fingers of someone capable.

The dusting of dark hair only heightened the masculine power.

I wondered what those hands would feel like wrapped around my waist.

“Water?” Rainer asked. He poured me a tall glass with his phone propped on his shoulder. I cleared my throat again.

“Thanks.” His bright, blue eyes caught mine and I saw his expression narrow. I hadn’t used the wrong name again, and now he was wondering if I knew his real name or not.

I should have invited Stan to the meeting; he would have loved it.

I sipped the water and forced myself to flip a few more pages. The real outcome was buried somewhere in all the figures, but I couldn’t make any sense of it.

Just like I couldn’t understand why the accidental brush of Rainer’s thigh made my pulse gallop.

“By the way, my name is Rainer,” he said.

“Is it? What did I say?” I feigned innocence.

The man to Rainer’s left snickered and elbowed him.

“I’ve never known a woman to get your name wrong. Must be losing it.”

“Please,” Rainer said.

“We just haven’t had a chance to get properly acquainted.” I didn’t let the side comments derail me.

“Have we met before?” I asked Rainer. The little lines appeared at the corners of his mouth.

He knew what I was doing, but there was no easy way out for him.

“I think we’ve bumped into each other a few times,” he said.

“Must not have been that memorable, eh, Rainer?” another guy down the table chimed in.

I checked the clock and prayed to God the CFO would start the meeting on time.

If I had to sit there and pretend their juvenile locker room talk didn’t bother me, I was going to lose it.

“Don’t feel bad, man,” the guy next to Rainer said.

“No one below the top floor has ever attracted her attention.”

Rainer arched an eyebrow and glanced me over again.

“A woman with expensive taste is a lot of work.” The pre-meeting buzz was loud enough that I could pretend I didn’t hear them.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

I seethed inside but kept my face blank and my eyes on the financial report in front of me.

“Sounds like a challenge,” the far guy said. Rainer’s eager assistant leaned over his shoulder.

“Plan A, sir?” he asked. Rainer waved him away.

“I don’t need a plan.”

“So, you’ll attempt it?” The guy next to him rubbed his hands together.

“Oh, man, wait until everyone hears you’re going to melt the ice Queen.” I conjured up the image of Queen Elizabeth I.

She knew the only way to lead was to stay above gossip, so she branded herself the Virgin Queen.

It wasn’t quite the same as my situation, but it kept me from attacking the childish men around Rainer.

Rainer himself tried to wave them off.

“You know you’re talking about your boss, right?”

“But she’s not your boss, and that’s the whole point.”

“I’ve got better things to do. You realize we’re at work, don’t you?” Rainer asked.

“You work here?” I asked him before I could stop myself.

“I thought maybe you were a spokesperson the PR department hired.” The young men stifled their laughter, but it came out in childish snorts.

Rainer glowered at them and then turned to me.

He reached out and patted my hand. His eyebrows raised when he felt my nervous jolt.

“I think we last ran into each other upstairs,” he said.

No one else knew about the penthouse office or that I sneaked up there when I needed a lift.

The smile on Rainer’s lips told me he was ready to elaborate if I didn’t stop him.

“Oh, that’s right. At the Vista Cafe. What was your name again?”

His eyes narrowed, but he answered in an easy, relaxed voice.

“Rainer Maxwell, junior executive for the public relations department. I handled your press for you this morning.”

I didn’t like that he was already painting himself as a useful member of my team.

“Great. I’m glad the script I approved worked out for you.” Rainer leaned back in his chair.

“I added a few bits that I think went over very well,” he said.

“Not that your script wasn’t good, it just wasn’t exactly the image Hyperion was hoping for. I’m glad I was able to help out.”

“This morning,” I said. I couldn’t hide my distaste any longer.

“If you know your way around the project reports, you would see that this product has taken well over a year to perfect. We took extra time with the beta-testing to ensure a product that users enjoyed. Everyone here worked very, very hard. So, thanks for jumping in at the last minute, changing a few words around, and contributing to GroGreen.”

His colleagues were snickering again, and Rainer’s expression had gone stiff.

He did not appreciate my trade any more than I liked his presence at my meeting.

Luckily, as soon as he opened his mouth to retort, the chief financial officer of Hyperion strode through the door and called the meeting to order.