There was a quick knock and a second’s hesitation before the office door opened a sliver. Minka stuck her head in. “Is it safe in here?” she called, her small round face carrying an uncertain smile. “What’d you do? Vectra looked ready to kill somebody when she walked out of here.”
“I told her the truth.” Qasim claimed the big chair behind his desk. “She’s got no idea what it’d mean to be ‘friends’ with a man like me.”
“And I’m guessing you let it end there and didn’t bother to tell her what you really meant?”
“I don’t want her afraid of me, Mink.”
“And because of that, you’re not willing to give her the benefit of the doubt?” Minka spread her hands apart in a what-the-heck gesture. “So you don’t like the idea of other men around her. A lot of women would find that an attractive trait.”
“Would you?” he challenged.
Minka shrugged. “I...I think I’d enjoy it. Yeah.” She sighed, smiling smugly. “I’d feel secure, treasured, as long as the guy didn’t get too weird about it.” She stopped when Qasim ticked a finger in her direction as though she’d said something magical.
“That’s it. I don’t know how weird I’d get considering the fact that yesterday I threatened a very good friend for just wanting to pick up the phone and call her.”
“Ouch... Not good.” Minka scrunched her nose.
“This is worse. He told her all about it.” Qasim closed his eyes, rested his head against the chair’s high back. “He’s one of those ‘honesty is the best policy’ folks.”
“Sometimes it is.” Minka smiled. “With things being more out in the open, she won’t let you hide behind the ‘we can’t be friends and that’s that’ argument.”
Qasim worked the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I mean, what’s the problem?” Minka claimed a spot on one of the sofa arms. “Vectra’s gorgeous, funny, smart. The men who work for you make a point of stopping by the office when they know she’s in the building.”
The news didn’t set well with Qasim if the muscle flexing wildly along his jaw was any indication. He lowered his hand, letting his elbow rest along one of the chair’s wide arms. He looked toward Minka with keen interest and much humor. “Is that why Will really stopped by?”
“No.” Minka laughed. “He really does need those signatures.” She reached for the folder she’d brought in with her. “It’s probably a good thing that he decided to drop by.” She went to hand her boss the paperwork. “It’s become a lot more expensive to host charity events these days.”
“Hmph.” Qasim opened the folder. “When there’s a charity that brings in millions, everyone wants their cut.”
“So you agree it’s a waste of money?”
“A waste of money for a good cause,” Qasim countered, sleek brows united to form a studious frown.
“So who says we have to waste it? Why don’t you just have the thing at your place?”
“Not big enough.”
“Says the man living in the two-million-dollar condo.” Minka shook her head. “How about your place at Sea Cliff?”
“Don’t like it.”
Minka gasped. “Says the man living in the four-million-dollar house!”
“All right, then.” Qasim smiled indulgently. “I admit I just don’t want the aggravation of it. There’s a certain convenience in not using your own place as the venue. Besides, neither of those places is right for accommodating that many people for a long weekend, hence the reason I always use hotels for this.”
Qasim’s midyear charity event was a highly anticipated gathering that benefited the summer camps he held each year for deserving high school football players. Thanks to the funds raised by Qasim’s Wilder Warriors Foundation, deserving students and senior athletes were able to receive all-expenses-paid educations following graduation.
Qasim watched his assistant, who didn’t seem to be in full agreement with his reasoning. “Hell, Mink, are the rates that bad?”
“I believe so. Yes.” She waved toward the folder he studied. “The venues we have in mind are even more outrageous than usual.”
Although Qasim wasn’t above paying any cost to fund his events, Minka saw to it that her boss’s generous heart didn’t bankrupt him. Her policy was to see to it that all charity expenses were paid from charity money allotted for such spending instead of directly from Qasim’s personal accounts. She had successfully made that happen since the onset of Qasim’s goodwill endeavors.
“The rates aren’t deal breakers, but...”
“So go for it,” Qasim urged.
“It’s just—”
“Are the expense accounts well-funded?”
“More than. Only...” Minka trailed off, watching Qasim reach for a pen to sign the documents up for debate.
He smiled, noticing that his efficient assistant had already included a drafted document for the legal department to review regarding Will Lloyd’s decision-making authority for the foundation.
“Very nice,” he commented upon scanning the page.
Minka slipped off the sofa arm and took a bow. “Thanks and for my next feat, I’ll get things straightened out between you and Vectra.”
The easy expression Qasim was working to maintain began to waver. He clenched a fist and groaned. “I don’t think there’s any trick that good.”
“Sim—”
“I appreciate the effort, but there’s a lot you don’t know. It’s not my place to discuss it.”
“So you deny going after the woman you love and deny any other man the chance to go after her.”
Qasim shuffled through papers on his desk without really seeing them. “I don’t want to think about it.”
Minka walked over and took the folder from his desk. “She may not give you a choice.” Waving the folder, she turned on her heel. “I’ll get this finished.”
Qasim fixed his gaze on the fist he’d clenched before he slammed it onto his desk.
* * *
Vectra had never been one to take hints exceptionally well. She usually had to be hit right in the face with something before she got wise to the situation. She couldn’t help but think that was the case now. His words and demeanor were giving off the distinct impression that there was someone else.
Boy, wasn’t that the literal truth, she thought while speeding down the winding dirt road leading to Carro.
Named for Vectra’s parents Oscar and Rose Bauer, Carro was a remarkably breathtaking wine-country estate in Saint Helena, California. It was Vectra’s home and her oasis—a place for rejuvenation and meditation. A place to hide? She shook off that difficult truth and then thought, What the hell? So what if she wanted to hide? It was time to retreat a little.
She’d had her fill of humiliation. Qasim Wilder was a man who didn’t want to be friends with her. Fair enough. Fair enough. Only... Well, jeez, he had to know she wanted more than that. She should’ve told him so long ago. Now, she