Triplets Make Five Page 4

  “Oh, no no. I don’t need another drink. What I need is to go,” I said.

  “Just sit and relax. You’re not losing your job. So far, no one is. But, if you’ll let me, I’d like to tell you why I did fire all those people.”

  I was intrigued enough to take the new drink set in front of me and listen to his story.

  “I told you guys in the company-wide meeting that I would treat this like a new case. I fired over half the staff at Viking and Hills because I found that many of those in higher positions were embezzling funds.”

  “Wait, are you serious?” I asked.

  “Yep. But I knew if it came to light, the company would be over. And the company did a lot of good work. Not just in realty, but with their ethics policies. I wasn’t ready to let those go, but I needed to make a point. So, I fired everyone who was embezzling and everyone who knew about it but didn’t report it.”

  “You made a statement to the rest of the staff that you wouldn’t tolerate it without exposing them,” I said.

  “Viking and Hills did, and still does, excellent work overseas. They donate quarterly to charities that focus on building schools and digging clean water wells in third-world countries. A couple of the smaller charities would’ve had to halt entire projects until they found alternative funding. I wasn’t going to let them pay for Viking and Hills greedy mistakes.”

  I felt my jaw drop open as I held my drink in my hand.

  “You seem shocked,” Preston said.

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t think a playboy cared about anyone but himself,” I said.

  “You’re feisty,” he said with a chuckle. “And ballsy. I like that. I think I’ll keep you around for a little while longer.”

  “Not funny,” I said as I sipped my drink.

  “Kind of funny,” he said with a grin.

  This man was infuriating, but there was a starkly different side to him I didn’t expect. This cocky man in front of me cared about what happened in third world countries? Was someone punking me? The idea that this man, with his thick head of brown hair and his dazzling green eyes, cared about something other than himself was…nice.

  It was really nice, in fact.

  The rest of the conversation flowed just as easily between us. The witty and fiery banter continued and I indulged him on how I came to have this job. I told him about how school was easy for me because of my ability to speed read and do fast mental calculations, and I explained to him how I got an internship with Bernie before he hired me full time.

  “Right out of college?” Preston asked.

  “Yep. I was twenty-one years old with a Master’s in Accounting and he wanted to keep me on. So, he hired me as the accountant to all of his investors and I’ve been here ever since.”

  “So you really speed read,” he said.

  “I do. Five thousand words a minute.”

  “What’s 9,542.85 times 4,560.84?”

  “43,523,411.994.”

  “You didn’t round that off?” he asked.

  “Would you care if I did?” I asked.

  “That’s amazing,” he said.

  “It is what it is.”

  “You’re seriously not impressed that you can do that?” he asked.

  “Not really. I’ve always been able to. It was a source of ridicule and teasing for most of my life, so I quickly grew to resent it.”

  Preston’s eyes softened towards me as I took the last sip from my fourth drink that evening.

  “Last call!” the bartender called out.

  Wait. Last call? What time was it?

  “It’s three in the morning,” Preston said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I saw the shock roll across your face. If you’re wondering, it’s three in the morning.”

  “We’ve been sitting here for five hours,” I said.

  “Times flies, I guess.”

  I gathered my things from the booth and slid from the seat. I teetered a bit and Preston reached out for me, helping me to steady myself on my feet. I could feel the warmth of his hand radiating through my cardigan as his fingertips pressed into my excess. I looked up into his beautiful peridot eyes as his hand slid down my arm, his fingers gracing mine before he stood up straight.

  “Can I give you a ride home?” Preston asked.

  “That’s okay. I’m just going to call an Uber,” I said.

  “Still sticking with that plan.”

  “It’s a good one,” I said. “A reliable one.”

  “My car works, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said, grinning.

  “It’s not,” I said.

  I didn’t want to give into his flirtations. Not just yet. Hell, once I got home and slept this alcohol off, I knew I wouldn’t want his flirtations at all. But right now, with the Manhattans swimming through my veins and his tall, broad, chiseled stature looming over me, the last thing I needed was to get in his car. To be close to him. To be confined with him.

  I cleared my throat and lowered my gaze to my phone as I summoned a car.

  “Thank you for the drinks,” I said.

  “Thank you for the company,” Preston said.

  “Um…I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “It’s Saturday,” he said.

  “Then, see you Monday,” I said.

  “Looking forward to it.”

  “Oh! Um…Bernie’s calend-- well, your calendar now-- is synced to mine. You can put meetings in there and stuff and they’ll pop up on my end and I’ll know where to be and what time,” I said.

  “I figured as much,” he said.

  “And again, thank you for the drinks,” I said as I pushed out of the bar.

  I could feel his eyes on me as I stood on the sidewalk. He watched me from the bar as I got into the Uber I had called for. I was glad I had enough wits about me to refuse his car ride. The last thing I needed was some playboy with dreamy eyes knowing where I lived. I needed to go home, flop down in bed with Beethoven, and sleep off all this…stuff. Whatever this was floating around in my system. This feistiness and this gravitational pull he had on me all night.

  I had all weekend to get rid of it before Monday came around.

  Because come Monday, things had to get professional again.

  Six

  Preston

  I watched Delilah get into the car she rented last night and drive away. No woman had ever done that to me before. Turned me down flat, even after a few drinks. She was strong-willed. Feisty. A massive ball of pent up energy just waiting to explode. I was determined to get her to agree to go on a date with me. I wanted to see what that body would look like in a little black dress. With her calves accented in heels and her wide hips swaying in the breeze. There was nothing better than the excess of a woman beckoning for my rippling muscles to hold her close.

  Delilah wasn’t begging yet. But by the time Monday came around she would be.

  The shy little girl I thought she was had turned into a ballsy little minx. Meeting my quips tit for tat. She hid behind those cardigans and thick glasses, but inside she was aching to be freed. A mind just waiting for its equal to come along and release it from its cage. The woman was astounding. A pleasant surprise after dealing with the idiots I had to deal with during my first few days at the company. It was pleasing to me that her and I would be working close.

  It meant no one would question if we were ever behind closed doors in my office.

  But there was a moment at the bar that seemed surprising to me. Not in a shocking way, but in an innocent way. I called her something akin to beautiful, and she seemed genuinely shocked. Like no one had ever called her that before. And if that was true, it was a shame. Because behind those idiotic clothes and that shy demeanor that stuck to the shadows in the office building, she was ravishing. A sight to behold. Laden with curves I wanted to sink my fingers into and pulsing with warmth I wanted wrapped around my cock.

  She was beautiful in her own
right, and I was going to have her one way or another.

  Monday rolled around and I was ready to see her. I dressed in my best suit, just to make sure I caught her eye. A nicely tailored navy suit with a crisp white shirt, a crimson red tie, and navy blue loafers. It was my favorite suit. It was the suit I always wore in order to catch a lady’s stare. It never ceased to fail me, and I was ready for it to work it’s magic on Delilah.

  My little minx.

  Everyone’s heads turned as I walked through the office. I stopped and talked with a few people before I made it to my desk. I opened my door and looked down the hallway at the light already shining underneath her office door.

  Holy hell, this woman was an early riser.

  I wasn’t sure how to get her to come out of her office. I left my door open, just in case she decided to try and slip past me. I kept looking up from my calendar and emails every so often, watching to see if she would emerge. To get coffee or to pee. To get some fresh air or to find a window to look out.

  But she didn’t emerge and I was left at a loss.

  The woman she was at the bar would never have stayed cooped up like this. The woman I sat with in that booth needed a place to spread her wings. She wasn’t the kind of woman who kept herself cooped up in a damn broom closet away from everyone. She was the kind of person whose tongue whipped everyone into shape. Whose voice focused a room. Whose presence commanded attention.

  At least, that was how I perceived her.

  I entered the week’s meetings into the schedule, just to see if she would pop her head out to come confirm with me. I loaded them into the program and watched them pop up, then clocked the little circle that told me it was syncing with other computers. The syncing was complete and I waited for her to emerge, and still?

  Nothing.

  This woman was frustrating as fuck. How in the hell did I get her to come out of her office without knocking on her door? Preston Walker didn’t chase women. After a while, they fell at my feet. Some required a little more work than others, but they all did eventually.

  And I wanted to see Delilah’s crisp green eyes look up at me when she kneeled.

  Then, an idea struck me. I picked up the phone and dialed my favorite steakhouse, ordering her a nice big pasta dish. I added some fries and some broccoli, then ordered a decadent slice of chocolate cake for dessert. I told them to deliver it to Kiefer and Associates, then gave the man directions to Delilah’s office.

  If the food didn’t cause her to emerge with curiosity, the gossiping buzz it would kick up would.

  She was fully aware of the rumors that circulated about her, and I knew that would draw her out. I sat back and watched as the delivery man turned down the hallway. I dipped my head down to my desk as he knocked on her door, delivering the food to her as a grin crossed my cheeks. I could hear her arguing with the man, telling him he had some sort of error on his account.

  But eventually, she relented.

  Word would get around quickly about the dinner. That was just how things worked in places like this. I went into the corporate lounge down the hall from my office and sat there, then waited for the gossiping to take place.

  But everyone acted as if nothing had happened.

  I ventured down the stairs to another lounge. It was the lounge all of the secretaries frequented. It was on the public relations level of the building, and I knew those women would be talking about it there. The front desk secretary would’ve had to check the delivery man in, and surely she would’ve pulled some juicy gossip from the depths of his throat.

  But when I stopped just short of the lounge and heard the women gossiping, there wasn’t a sound uttered about it.

  No one was talking about anything. Not the food. Not the delivery. And not Delilah. And it hit me in that moment. That was why Delilah locked herself away the way she did. That was why she took the pseudo-office instead of the decent one. It wasn’t because she felt out of place or because she was weird.

  It was because she faded into the background…and she was aware of it.

  She was aware that no one cared. She was aware that no one liked her. She was aware that no one kept their eyes on her or found her important or even noticed the basic likes of her.

  But that wasn’t true for me.

  I had noticed her.

  She had caught my eye for whatever fucking reason. Other people didn’t look at her, but I did. Other people could take their eyes off her, but I couldn’t.

  I went back up to my office prepared to order myself some lunch, but I found a familiar form standing at my door. Delilah was standing there, with the two bags of food in hand as she turned towards me.

  “I take it you’re the one to thank for this?”

  She turned around and her eyes took me by surprise. I could’ve sworn they were green. In fact, I knew they were. If there was one thing I never forgot, it was a beautiful pair of eyes. And Delilah had a mesmerizing pair. She kept them behind thick glasses that I wanted to throw out the damn window, but they were there.

  Only this time, they were deep sea blue.

  As blue as the cardigan she had thrown over her shoulders.

  “Not up to your taste?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure how many calories you believe these curves require, but it’s not this much,” she said. “Care to share?”

  She jutted her hip out and strolled into my office. She made her way for the sitting area in the corner, out of the line of sight of anyone. I had to gather myself from the way she tossed her hip like that. The way it jiggled her luscious tits and the way her body moved fluidly with her motions. I followed her into my office and closed the door behind me, watching as she set up lunch for us.

  “A picnic?” I asked.

  “Would you rather eat in the lounge? Because I’m not really a fan of the lounge,” Delilah said.

  “Here’s fine.”

  I had to say, it was hard to take me by surprise. But this was the second time in less than three days that Delilah Kent had done just that. I walked over to her and sat down on the couch, reaching for the plate she had made me. She handed me a flavored water and I took it from her, wondering where in the world she got it from.

  “Now you’re the one that’s shocked,” Delilah said. “I have a mini-fridge in my office.”

  “You mean your broom closet,” I said.

  “I prefer it to the other offices,” she said.

  “Might I ask why?”

  “The windows make me feel exposed. And there’s plenty of space for people to come bug me.”

  “Your office is in a broom closet because you don’t want people bugging you?” I asked.

  “Not unless it’s necessary. I don’t want people just strolling in and talking to me.”

  “Not a fan of conversation?” I asked.

  “Not a fan of bullshit.”

  I had to bite back my laughter as the two of us ate together. She was unique, I would give her that. But there was something cozy about her as well. Something warm and inviting. Like an old friend or a childhood memory.

  “It’s nice to meet a woman that isn’t caught up in drama,” I said.

  “I’m not caught up in anything,” Delilah said. “I’m not really noticed around here.”

  “I noticed you,” I said.

  Her eyes flickered up towards me and it was insane. I could’ve sworn they were green that night at the bar.

  “I see you put another meeting with the graphics design team on the schedule,” she said.

  “Yep. It’s a tentative one. To discuss the drafts for the new sign should they come in on time,” I said.

  “I love graphic design. It’s what I would’ve done had I not gone into accounting.”

  “So, you’re an artist,” I said.

  “Not like our team here is. I’m not that good. But…I dabble. Sketch things out and then try to bring them to life on the screen of a computer.”

  “Why did you pursue accounting instead?” I asked.

&n
bsp; “Seemed more practical. And don’t get me wrong, I love numbers. They never lie, and they will always tell you more than any person ever will. They’re telling that way, and I like that. They don’t try to attempt to be anything other than the sum of their parts. Or the subtraction of their parts. Or the multiplicative.”

  “You are the weirdest person I have ever met,” I said, chuckling.

  “I try my best,” she said.

  “I meant that in a good way.”

  “Not sure how being weird is a good thing,” she said.

  “It means you’re different, and that’s always a prize,” I said.

  Her eyes lit up just for a moment, reflecting the serenity of the ocean. Fuck, what was this woman doing to me? The serenity of the ocean? Where the fuck had that come from?

  I understood her a little more now. She wasn’t really weird, she was just artsy. Alternative. A gentle soul with a completely different language of expression. The pieces of her that were scattered about slowly started to fall into place, and the more she talked about her love of graphics design the more her eyes lit up. They sparkled with a passion that was even impressive to me.

  It had been a long time since I had found someone who was genuinely passionate in anything.

  “Come to dinner with me sometime,” I said.

  “What?” Delilah asked.

  “You just spent the last twenty minutes droning on about color palettes and your first ever graphic you created. And for some reason, I want to hear more about it.”

  “Does this language usually work on women for you?” she asked. “Because right now, all I am is a little offended.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just…shocked.”

  “At the fact that I…what? Actually have some substance to me?”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” I said.

  “Then say what you meant.”

  Her eyes were hardening and I could feel myself losing control. What in the actual hell was going on? I never fumbled the ball like this. I was always smooth with women. I asked them out once and they were putty in my hands. I had the perfect date I wanted to take this woman on. I knew exactly what would get Delilah going. She was the kind of woman whose mind needed to be stimulated before her body could be.