Thanks to his family, plus some savvy investments of his own, Luke could’ve retired after college graduation and still lived an extremely comfortable life. But that was due to being born to the right parents. He hadn’t earned it.
He refused to be like his stepsiblings, living off the fat of their inheritances. He wanted to build something, like his great-grandfather had. He wanted it to last, unlike his great-grandfather’s legacy. The Draper & Dallas department store chain was long gone. The advancements made by Ruby Hawk in biofeedback and neural technology, however, could make lives better for generations.
He crushed the newspaper in his hand. Ruby Hawk Technologies was his. He’d created the company, pouring his own money into it. Now he needed additional capital for the company to reach its full potential, to prove to those who wrote him off as a rich dilettante that he had what it took to be a tech visionary.
He’d explored options for raising more money but none provided the combination of financing, ownership control and corporate independence Luke sought. Then Irene Stavros suggested he talk to her father. A month ago, Luke received a deal term sheet from Nestor.
On paper, it was perfect. The Stavros Group would buy Ruby Hawk and infuse the company with the cash it needed to expand, while allowing Ruby Hawk to continue to operate autonomously. The original management team, including Luke as CEO, would remain intact and he would continue to call all the shots without interference from the acquiring parent company. Anticipating an easy close to the deal, Luke ordered and installed expensive new equipment for his engineers. Then when he went to meet Nestor to sign the paperwork, Nestor revealed his trap. Unless Luke went along with Nestor’s demands, he wouldn’t have the means to make payroll in six months’ time.
And now, the article. Thanks to it revealing the deal terms, his employees would be expecting their stock options to be worth millions upon the completion of the acquisition.
He had to save this deal. “Where’s your boss?”
Her green eyes widened at the snap of his words.
“I’ve been here for half an hour and no one has answered the door or the phone. What kind of a business is this?” He thrust the tabloid back at her. He’d deal with the story later.
“We’re very good at what we do. I’m sure there’s an explanation.” She shook out the crumpled paper.
He raised an eyebrow and looked at his watch.
Color rose even higher in her cheeks. “I just got off a plane. Johanna probably has a meeting off-site.” She opened a substantial tote bag and searched inside. “Although that doesn’t explain why Britt isn’t on phone duty,” she murmured under her breath. Her hand surfaced holding a key ring. “Wait here while I make sure the lights are on.”
She swung open the door and disappeared inside, shutting it behind her. He heard a stifled exclamation, followed by a loud thud. Just as he was about to investigate the noise, she emerged, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.
Her face made her white shirt seem dark gray by comparison. “Um, maybe you should wait at the diner next door. The coffee is good. It’s all single origin, hand poured—”
“No.” It would be a long time before he’d be able to drink coffee without the memory of that morning’s meeting poisoning the taste. “What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”
She shook her head, her chest rapidly rising and falling.
“I’m going in.” He gently took her hand off the doorknob. It trembled in his grasp.
Her chin snapped up. “No, please don’t—”
He ignored her protestations. Was it a break-in? Vandalism? Or hungover coworkers, and she didn’t want a prospective client to see what really went on at Rinaldi Executive Search?
The last thing he’d expected to see was emptiness. As in, not only were employees not at their desks, but the desks were gone too. The blinds were open and the sunshine revealed a reception area, barren save for a broken desk stool, naked metal shelves and scuffmarks on the bamboo laminate floors marking where furniture once stood. One lonely high-walled cubicle stood outside a door that led to an inner office empty of all furnishings.
“I thought maybe we were robbed.” Danica stood behind him in the doorway, her arms protectively hugging her chest. “But...”
He shook his head. Thieves would have left a mess. “This is the work of professional movers.”
The hot fist in his stomach began to squeeze again. Johanna’s disappearance was total. How could he so badly miscalculate twice in the same day?
“I was gone two weeks.” Danica’s voice was thin. “Two weeks.” Her gaze, wild and unfocused, travelled around the empty space. She shuffled into the office like a sleepwalker who couldn’t wake up. Her tote bag lay in her path, its contents scattered across the floor. Before he could clear it out of her way, her foot tangled in the thick strap.
He lunged, grasping her shoulders to keep her upright. This close, her hair consisted of a thousand shades of gold, from honey chestnut to palest yellow. Faint freckles dusted the pale skin stretched over a small, pointed nose. Her lips were softly curved, the bottom lip presenting the perfect amount of plumpness. Vanilla spiked with cinnamon teased his nose. For a second, he was tempted to see if she tasted just as spicy sweet.
Then reality landed a roundhouse to his gut.
His plan for saving Ruby Hawk had disappeared with the office furnishings that used to grace the Rinaldi office.
* * *
“Thank you for the save.” Danica heard her voice as if it came from a long distance. Maybe she fell asleep on the plane, and this was just a bad nightmare brought on by the pressure of finishing the pitch presentation? But despite the number of blinks, the vision in front of her stayed the same.
Luke Dallas, CEO of Ruby Hawk Technologies. A Doctor Who fan had confided in her that Luke was called Luke Dalek behind his back, because he never met a human emotion he didn’t try to exterminate.
Luke Dallas, who had very firm muscles under his Silicon Valley uniform of blue button-down shirt paired with khakis. Underneath his clothes, he must put a Greek god to shame. She grasped the silky cotton of his shirt, his biceps flexing under her fingers. He even smelled like she imagined a Greek god would: like the outdoors after a rainstorm over a base of expensive leather and fresh citrus. The room began to spin, faster and faster, and she closed her eyes.
“Breathe,” he said. “In and out.”
She did as he commanded, allowing herself to lean into him, just a little, craving the intense sense of confidence and security his arms provided. Then he abruptly let go. Her eyes flew open.
“I don’t have time to take you to urgent care if you fall and hurt yourself.” His jaw clenched as his gaze travelled the barren suite. “I have to leave.”
Think, Danica, think fast. But her mind was a jumble of scattershot fragments mixed with bursts of pure panic. All she knew was if he left, he would take with him the chance of pitching Rinaldi Executive Search’s services to him. And with that would go her promised promotion.
She needed to find her boss. This had to be a huge misunderstanding.
“Johanna must have moved offices while I was gone. I was a bit hard to reach.” It was the truth. Matt’s hospital floor didn’t allow cell phones. “Let me call her.”
She picked up her treacherous tote bag and scooped the fallen items back into it. Where was her phone? She knew she got off the plane with it. She