Vested Interest Page 4

  I stand next to the visitor’s reception tables near the entryway to the banquet room, waiting on Emma to get back from a quick trip to the ladies’ room. Her refill of Pinot Noir in one hand and my third whiskey in the other, I scan over the heads of the attendees as they filter into the room and begin hunting their assigned tables.

  I catch a glimpse of that beautiful burgundy dress and the flash of skin it shows, but she isn’t moving toward me. I sidestep around a group of loitering guys to get a better view, and my blood chills when I see him.

  Jeremy Brandt. That fucker.

  He must have been waiting right outside the restrooms for her. I set my jaw and grit my teeth. I knew coming into the evening that Jeremy had been recruited by BHC and that it was very likely he’d be attending tonight. Marcus Davidson has always been their top recruiter, but news is they’re looking to rapidly expand their security solutions offerings, and Jeremy Brandt was brought on to help scout new talent.

  What I don’t know is why she’s biting her lip like that. It’s not the sexy, come-here-big-boy way a woman sometimes plays with her lips; it’s the I’m nervous and want to get the fuck out of here way.

  She looks away from Jeremy and catches my eye long enough that I can see something there which sets off alarms in me. It isn’t just a general nervousness from attending this event, or even the discomfort a woman might feel when being approached by a strange man and propositioned — for business, of course.

  No. She has the wounded, panicked eyes of a hunted animal, and protectiveness flares up in my chest. I square my shoulders and straighten to my full height, a posture which causes the attendees streaming through the hallway to part like the Red Sea.

  The closer I get, the more often she darts looks my way and has me feeling like a rescue diver on my way to a drowning castaway.

  I hear Jeremy speaking as I approach from behind. “… was years ago. I’m with a really cutting-edge company now, and they pay well. We would—”

  “Your drink, Emma,” I say loudly, cutting him off. Resisting every urge to punch that bastard in the face, I reach past him with the Pinot Noir and hand it to Emma before I take my place by her side. I completely ignore him, turning my gaze on her. “Are you ready to go inside?”

  The bastard doesn’t even let her respond. “Jackson,” he booms. “Good to see you. It’s been, what?”

  I glance at him slowly, my jaw set. “Not long enough,” I growl. I debate the merits of a jab to the kidneys, but Emma slips her fingers around my bicep, taking my arm.

  Jeremy laughs as though I just made the funniest joke he’s heard all month. “I really miss that sense of humor. We need to get together soon. I’ll put together another fishing trip; you can come out to my yacht. You’ve never been.”

  I flex, curving my arm up to my chest, preparing to guide Emma away from this shark as she tightens down on my bicep and draws closer. If I had felt a surge of protectiveness from across the room, it’s about to boil over right now.

  “We’ll have a blast. We always do,” Jeremy continues.

  “I fucking hate fishing,” I say, giving him a look that tells him to shut up before I put my fist through his teeth.

  For a moment, Jeremy loses his composure. Yeah, recover from that, asshole. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, but nothing comes out. He glances at Emma, but she refuses to meet his gaze.

  My departure excuse comes out as a fuck you. “Excuse us, Jeremy, dinner’s about to start, and I know you aren’t one to miss freeloading.”

  I struck a chord. His eyes dart from me to Emma then back again. Darkness passes over his face before he plasters a smile back on and gives me another fake laugh.

  “Right again. I do love the bread basket. The sesame rolls in particular. We can catch up after dinner.”

  No, we won’t, asshole.

  He nods to Emma, but she’s looking down, and it’s clear she has no desire to stick around for the end of his ass-kissing any more than I do. Without looking at him again, I guide her down the hallway, and a shiver runs through her as if she’s trying to shake off the disgust of being near Jeremy.

  I don’t know why the hell he’s pretending we’re best friends, or what his end game is, but Emma obviously has some history with the guy, and that’s all the red flag I need to get her the hell out of there as quickly as possible. I’m more than qualified when it comes to knowing that having any kind of history with Jeremy Brandt is bad news. We hit the doors to the banquet room at a quick walk, the side of Emma’s right breast pushed up against my arm.

  What a difference a few minutes has made. She’s not the composed, easy-going woman she was upstairs on the roof. Now, she’s clinging to me like wolves are nipping at her heels. That fucker has her shaken. It’s a good damn thing for him that we’re in the middle of a proper event and I’m representing Pentabyte tonight, otherwise I’d have him pinned against the wall by his throat.

  I walk straight for our table, eager to give her a distraction. When we approach, my twin and the three other heads of Pentabyte interrupt their conversation with Callie and Cora to greet Emma.

  Before sitting, I make the introductions, taking each in turn. Ever the gentleman, Daniel stands and gives a slight bow before returning to his seat. Jude, never the conversationalist, just gives her a tight-lipped smile and polite nod. Trigg rises to his feet and shakes her hand while Gunner just sits there and stares like a caveman.

  When I get to him, he snaps out of it, but then this wry, sideways smile appears on his face, and I know enough about that look to know there’s a story behind it — and he’s not the only one giving off signals. Emma’s eyes are darting everywhere but his face, and her cheeks have turned a deep blush color. Interesting. I make a mental note to ask Gunner about that later.

  I pull out a chair for her, but Emma still hasn’t recovered from her encounter with Jeremy — or maybe it’s from the brief second in which she made eye contact with Gunner.

  She doesn’t budge an inch. “It’s very kind of you, but maybe I should be in my assigned seat. I don’t want to cause a mix-up for the catering company.”

  “This is the best catering company in town,” Daniel assures her. “They aren’t going to be thrown by a guest changing tables.”

  Still holding onto my bicep, I can feel her unease as she shifts her weight from foot to foot.

  “It looks like you already have a pretty full table. I don’t want to interrupt.”

  Trigg stands again and gestures at the guys. “Please, I’ve been hanging out with these guys all day long,” Trigg says. “It’s like a locker room — it’s just jock straps and smack talk over here. We need some female energy to balance out all of this testosterone.”

  That finally snaps Gunner out of his unabashed appraisal of our guest. “Female energy? Dammit, Trigg. We’re trying to have a nice evening, keep your new age mumbo jumbo shit to yourself.”

  Trigg extends a hand in Gunner’s direction. “You see what I’m talking about? Zero refinement. Unlike that dress, which is simply beautiful.”

  She smiles shyly. “Thank you.”

  I pull the chair out a bit further. “Don’t let Gunner scare you. He’s all bark and no bite.”

  “I bite sometimes,” Gunner says with a flirtatious smile.

  Cora slaps him on the shoulder. “Would you stop it?”

  Gunner raises his hands. “What?”

  Seated between Trigg and Jude, Callie shakes her head in exasperation then looks at Emma. “Trigg is right. We need your help. I have some hope for Daniel, but the rest of these guys — they might be lost causes. Please, sit with us.”

  Beside me, Emma finally stops her fidgeting and relaxes her grip on my arm. Good. I give Callie a look of gratitude.

  Gunner opens his mouth, but Cora stares him down with one eyebrow lifted — something she’s quite good at — and Gunner withdraws whatever comment was about to be unleashed.

  “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but I guess I can
try to even things out a little.”

  Emma lets go of my arm, moving around the chair to take her seat next to Jude and once she’s settled, I sit down on the other side of her, taking the last empty chair at the table.

  Callie smiles warmly at Emma. “Thank goodness. Maybe these guys will behave themselves now with a guest at the table.”

  “I always behave myself,” Gunner says, the picture of indignity.

  “Tell you what,” Cora replies, looking entirely unconvinced, “if you can mind your manners during dinner — and I mean all the way through dessert, I’ll make you a huge batch of those little spiced muffins you love so much.”

  Trigg pulls a bill out of his wallet and plunks it on the table. “A thousand says he can’t do it.”

  “I’ll take that bet,” Daniel says, holding up a money clip with a thick fold of bills. “I think some of my polish might have rubbed off on him yet.”

  Jude shrugs and pulls a slim leather case out of his inner breast pocket. “Why not? Put me down with Trigg. I predict Gunner’s gonna go off the rails before the main course is served.”

  Gunner is pouting. “Nice, real nice, guys.”

  “I’ll go with Daniel, okay?” I say, tossing ten hundred-dollar bills on the table. I turn to Gunner and give him a wary look. “You better not waste my money. In fact, just don’t say anything for the next two hours, that’d probably be safest.”

  “Well, fuck you very much, too,” he says, folding his arms across his wide chest in full-fledged offense.

  Cora purses her red lips. “Language, Gunner. That counts.”

  “Goddammit.”

  “Ah, you’re off to such a great start,” I say, shaking my head.

  Beside me, Emma’s vibrating with laughter, and the sound of her amusement is music to my ears.

  6

  Emma

  “Have you ironed out the integrations with the OS framework?”

  As quiet and reserved as he was at first, Jude has proven to know my program in depth and has spoken at length with me about it, genuine interest shining in his eyes.

  Before I can reply, Callie asks, “OS?”

  “Operating system,” Trigg explains. “It’s one of the biggest obstacles to implementing a code like Emma’s across multiple platforms. For example, you have an iPhone, and Cora has a Samsung. They don’t speak the same language when it comes to code. Emma needs to have a universal translator of sorts.”

  “Exactly.” I’m impressed with all the guys, really.

  I had expected Daniel to be able to rattle off the technical details, but he’s not even at the table. He’s gone to prepare for giving the keynote address, which will begin in a few moments now that the main course of filet and lobster is over.

  I turn to Jude. “I’ve been running simulation tests for all the major devices as well as a dozen of the most popular serverware programs that major companies might have installed on their internal architecture.”

  “And?” Now it’s Jax who is leaning forward, forearms on the table, genuinely interested.

  Heat rises to the tips of my ears. Not only am I sitting between the very twins I had steamy thoughts about earlier when Jax and I were on the rooftop patio, but never before have I had the rapt attention of so many men over my knowledge and skills as a software developer, rather than my body.

  I’m used to being the girl at the table. Not the woman — the girl. The one that men usually ignore, unless they’re pawing at me after they’ve had a few too many drinks. The tech industry, and software engineering in particular, is still a male-dominated field. Although that’s begun changing recently, it’s happening too slowly for my taste. In the company of men, I’m used to being treated as if I can barely add two plus two, much less hold my own with — or even supersede — their level of technical proficiency.

  But that’s the opposite of my time with the heads of Pentabyte so far. It’s both intimidating and exhilarating for so many executives to be hanging on my words, and that goes double because, mother of God, they’re strong, beautiful men with enough charm and intelligence to make anyone with a pulse take notice. Each of them are the quintessential accomplished alpha-male type, and there are five of them, for crying out loud. With every naughty thought, I feel like I’m betraying all of my feminist forbearers, but it’s all I can do to stay level-headed and not melt into a giggling, panty-dropping stereotype under their flattering attention.

  I fiddle with my fork, not knowing whose eyes to meet. “Well, there’s still an algorithmic issue in the convex polyhedron in polynomial time—”

  “The what?” Cora asks.

  I debate the merits of explaining, but I can’t think of any way to do it without referencing computational complexity theory or Cobham’s thesis. “I just refer to it as the Gamma segment. It’s what’s holding everything back. There’s a few last glitches in getting the code to implement itself properly across all operating systems.”

  “Like yeast?”

  Working at the hospital, all I can think of is yeast infections, so Cora’s analogy has me baffled. “I’m not sure I follow?”

  Callie waves a hand at me. “She does this thing with food analogies all the time, but eventually it makes sense,” she says reassuringly.

  “Sorry, I’ll explain,” Cora says with a laugh. “There are several kinds of yeast you can use in baking. They’re all very similar on a molecular level, when it really comes down to it, but they do act differently on a bigger scale. How much and what kind you use depends on what you’re baking and what kind of result you want.”

  “Cora and Callie run a specialty catering business together,” Trigg explains.

  I take a moment to consider. I haven’t done much work with yeast in my cook-a-thons, but I get the concept. “Yeah, I guess that’s kinda how it works. This software — or yeast, if you will — has to fit the needs of dozens of different recipes. I know I can get it to work with all of them, I just need to make sure the conversion chart is accurate, if that makes sense? Something to tell the software — sorry, the yeast — exactly how to integrate into each recipe.”

  Gunner downs his beer and waves the bottle in the air to signal for another. “I think you’re getting the analogies mixed up, because you’re saying the recipes are the operating systems, but Cora was saying—”

  “Either way, we all get the idea,” Jude says, interrupting Gunner with a look.

  “Yes, I understood what you meant,” Cora says kindly.

  “I’m really impressed with how much you’ve done on your own,” Trigg says. “Innovative solutions like this usually take an entire team working together for years.”

  “Well, I have been working on it for longer than it took humans to discover fire,” I say with a laugh. “But I have to admit, I’m really surprised how much you all know about my work.”

  “Don’t be,” Jude says. “If we’re admitting to things, you should know that you’ve been on our radar ever since you presented your Master’s thesis at the Chicago Conference.”

  “And you shouldn’t be so modest,” Jax adds. “That thesis made it into Comtech’s Best Of Edition. You’ve been pretty high on our list of candidates for a while.”

  “The top,” Jude confirms. “I look forward to you working out the Gamma segment. I know you will. You’ve come this far. I assume you’re looking to sell once it’s complete?”

  I take a sip of my Pinot Noir to steady my nerves and buy myself some time so my response doesn’t come out with a tremor. “Yes. I’m hoping to get a good price for it.”

  “Ms. Collins.” Jude’s tone makes me meet his eyes, and his seriousness creates flutters in my stomach. “That code of yours is exactly what online security is in dire need of. Whomever is lucky enough to acquire it should be willing to pay a price worthy of the woman behind this project.”

  Warmth infuses my cheeks, and I find myself buzzing with happiness. They’ve all been so kind. Even Callie and Cora, whom I’m assuming are Trigg and Jude’s dates, h
ave been gracious and welcoming. Not an ounce of pettiness or jealousy in their words and expressions, even though all the guys, including Trigg and Jude, have made me the center of attention tonight.

  I can’t remember the last time I felt this included in a conversation when seated with a bunch of guys talking about software, programming, and tech innovations. Wait — that’s because it’s never happened before. When I received this invitation, not in my wildest dreams did I expect to have the immediate respect of a company like Pentabyte. I know my invention is good, but as a solo creator — and a woman at that — I figured I’d still have to fight to get the recognition and price it deserves.

  Daniel wraps up his speech, and the tables around us rise to their feet for a standing ovation. We all follow suit, and I clap with genuine appreciation for his presentation — insightful and powerful, all the hallmarks of why he’s an industry leader.

  Daniel smiles at us as he steps from the stage and makes his way back to the table. We all sit down together as the lights switch from a dimmed presentation mode back to a brighter glow.

  Waitstaff appear from nowhere to refresh our drinks and deliver small plates of decadent desserts. Gunner’s empty beer bottle is quietly replaced with a freshly opened one, and the look of simple satisfaction on his face makes me smile. The man is richer than I could ever hope to be, yet he looks like a cold beer just made his day.

  Maybe, once you have all the money you want, it comes down to those simple things in life once again. I’m not there yet. I’m still behind on rent, I’m still pulling double shifts at the hospital, and I still have student loans and credit card debit threatening to drown me. But tonight has given me new hope — more hope than I’ve felt since Jackass Jeremy crushed it. I just need to hold on a little longer, figure out how much yeast goes where, and then it’s Mai Tai drinks and cabana boys for Zoey and I.

  After a few handshakes and slaps on the back, Daniel finally appears at the table and reclaims his seat. All the guys and both ladies give him compliments. He nods to them, taking it all in stride.