The CEO's Dilemma ; Undeniable Passion Read online

  She complimented him on the choice of place and made a mental note to come back sometime soon. Then he told her it was his sanctuary of sorts.

  She winced, feeling like an ass for destroying his peaceful evening, but he smiled and waved off her apology, interspacing bites of his sandwich with sips of his tea. God, he really was the most compelling man.

  Once they both finished their meal and the waiter whisked away their plates, they regarded each other once more over refreshed cups of tea. Aisha tapped a fingernail against the fragile teacup.

  “Um, I think we can find a solution to both our problems,” she said.

  “Oh, do you?” He leaned back in his chair, looking like he built his entire world on a bedrock of doubt.

  “Oh, yes. I’m a born optimist and natural problem solver.” She flashed him a smile. “Or at least that’s what my résumé says.”

  “Do you have a solution yet?” Again, she detected no confidence in his deep gaze though a hint of a smile touched his mouth.

  Gah! She needed to stop staring at his lips as if the solutions to all her problems, or at least the ones having to do with her dead sex life, lay there.

  She cleared her throat. “Not yet, but now that I know you’re open to it—You are open to it, right?” At his nod, she forged forward again. “Now that you’re open, I’ll put some real thought into a solution instead of poking that voodoo doll I have of you.”

  “Ah, that’s why I’ve been feeling like needles have been jabbing my back the last couple of days.”

  A soft laugh bubbled from her without her permission and she bit her lip to stop it. That was such a weak joke. Why had she laughed?

  But that was just one of the many questions left unanswered by the time they finished their tea and paused outside the doors of the teahouse, about to go their separate ways.

  “I’ll be in touch with my new plan,” she said, shaking the hand he offered. Her knees went a little weak at how large and warm it felt around hers, how his direct and piercing gaze had her wondering if he’d be equally intense in bed.

  Down, girl.

  “I’m sure you will, Aisha,” he said with a soft laugh. “You know where to find me.”

  “That I do, Mr. CEO.”

  “It’s Roman. Remember?”

  As if she could ever forget.

  Chapter 6

  Aisha Clark was young and beautiful. But mostly young.

  Roman had tried to ignore one of those two very obvious facts while they were eating together in the teahouse. The casual way she tossed around contemporary slang and, unlike many of the women he’d been with in the past, made it obvious that she found him attractive but didn’t push the issue. If anything, she’d been hyper-focused on the reason she’d sat with him in the first place.

  The Sylvia Sykes Architectural Prize.

  While he stood near the doorway of the teahouse, he’d watched her walk away, cursing her youth but admiring the way she approached him, fearless and determined. After he got home he indulged in his curiosity and looked her up online.

  It was easy to find her on social media. Her Instagram, Snapchat and Twitter had updates every day about one thing or another. There were photos of her hanging out with her brother, retired basketball player Ahmed Clark. “Snaps” of her pretending to snatch off her sister’s large diamond engagement ring. Plus a few photos of her cat Eloise, which she seemed to treat like a princess or her own child. And, finally, there was her professional page.

  After all that searching, he finally found out her age. She was twenty-four.

  Not jailbait but still much too young for a thirty-seven-year-old man like him. He’d always thought less of men who ended up with women much younger than them. What was wrong with them that they couldn’t attract and keep a woman their own age? A woman who would provide an equal partnership, inside jokes about the songs that were popular when they were younger or the ridiculous fashion from back in the day.

  No, Roman had no respect for men like that. And he definitely didn’t want to become one, either. So he had to stay away, no matter how interesting or smart Aisha Clark was.

  He told himself that all of Friday night and Saturday. By the time Saturday evening and the party the company was throwing him in celebration of his new position came around, he almost believed it.

  “So, I’ll just meet you here?” With the cell phone to his ear, Roman got out of his black Mercedes in front of the venue and handed the keys to the valet.

  On the other end of the line, Merrine gave him the answer he was waiting on. “Yes. And don’t think because you’re all of a sudden a CEO that you can start bossing me around.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Roman said, chuckling then ending the call. He slipped the valet ticket in his pocket and jogged up the half dozen stairs into the elegant, early twentieth-century hotel.

  “Good evening, sir.” The doorman greeted him with a nod and held the door for him to pass through.

  “Thanks and good evening to you, too.” He strode through the lobby, the marble floors ringing under his dress shoes. An elegant sign in script pointed toward The Sykes Event and the ballroom down an impressive double staircase.

  He huffed a soft breath of amazement. This was his life now. Everything else was far behind him. Or at least it would be for another year.

  He paused on the staircase. In the massive ballroom, classical music played. Voices rippled with laughter and conversation. The heavy chandelier made of thousands of crystals glittered overhead and threw sparks of light on the beautifully dressed crowd. Tuxedos. Ball gowns. Cocktail dresses. Diamonds and plenty of vintage pearls.

  An orchestra, fronted by a fourteen-year-old cello prodigy, played music on the raised bandstand. The boy’s high and thick afro swayed with his slow and elegant movements. Around him, people were dancing or watching him play, their eyes full of wonder.

  Money well spent, Roman thought.

  From his position at the top of the staircase, he could see his assistant, his brother and several people he’d worked with during the week he’d been officially in charge. Roman would rather be in his backyard, stretched out on the grass and watching the sky. But Merrine had convinced him he had to go since the party was for him. He couldn’t wait for her to get there.

  He knew the sooner he joined the party, the sooner he could leave and go back to what he wanted to be doing tonight. Which was nothing.

  Here we go. Time to join the fray.

  Hand on the marble balustrade, he quickly made his way down into the crowd.

  Immediately, Lance drifted away from his conversation with one of the company lawyers. “Ah, here he is, the man of the hour.” A flash of envy sharpened his brother’s face.

  Of course, Lance wished that it was him being celebrated tonight. Roman did, too.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he asked Lance.

  His brother snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and pressed it into Roman’s hand. “Yes and no.”

  At least he was being honest. Lance never apologized for wanting more. He just demanded it and, if it didn’t come to him, he went after it with a ruthlessness that sometimes surprised Roman.

  These days, he was putting a lot of his energy into sponsoring race car drivers and extreme sports athletes. He usually financed winners who made him back the money he invested in them plus more.

  Roman wished their father had seen that and done right by his younger child. It would be a relief to hand the reins over to his brother when the time came. It would feel like righting a wrong.

  “What’s the ‘no’ part of that?” Roman put the glass of champagne to his mouth then changed his mind at the last minute about drinking it.

  He’d just showered and made his way to the hotel ballroom after an intense session of hot yoga. His body felt almost divinely strong, flexible and pulsing with power
, the closest to ecstasy he could feel without having sex. He didn’t want to ruin the feeling with alcohol.

  Lance shrugged, the tuxedo over his narrow shoulders moving elegantly with his body. “Just wondering if these same people will be here next year celebrating me when it’s my turn.”

  Although he hadn’t told Lance the particulars of their father’s will, Roman had let him know they had to wait a year to transfer the company’s leadership from Roman’s hands to his.

  “They will be here.” Roman handed his untouched champagne off to another passing waiter. “You’re a Sykes, after all, and most of them have nothing but loyalty and respect for the family.”

  “For you and Dad, you mean.” Lance sneered. It wasn’t a good look on his otherwise handsome face.

  “Your time will come.” Roman tried to pacify him. “They just don’t know you yet. You haven’t had a chance to prove to them what you can do.”

  “You’ve never had to prove a thing to them, though, have you?”

  “They’ve been used to the idea of me taking over, that’s all,” Roman said, looking around the room. “When I was a kid, I was here nearly every day, remember?”

  His brother only grunted.

  He didn’t know what else to say to Lance. As much as Roman had distanced himself from the business and from his father in his twenties, while growing up he’d paid strict attention to everything his father had wanted to teach him. He’d watched and learned and, despite himself, had been impressed with everything Langston Sykes had done to make Sykes Global a formidable name in large-scale construction worldwide.

  As much as he didn’t want to follow in those workaholic footsteps, he had nothing but respect for the incredible legacy his father left behind. He wanted that to continue with Lance and with any children they both managed to have.

  “If it isn’t the guest of honor.” Nelson Stearns, an old friend of his father’s and the company’s chief financial officer, came out of the woodwork to pat Roman on the back. “Your old man would’ve been very proud of you. Only a week in and you’ve already impressed the board.”

  “They like to see money, that’s all,” Roman said with a quick smile, aware of his brother’s watchful gaze.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Nelson chuckled. “Whatever you’re doing, keep up the good work, and welcome to the place where your father always meant for you to be.” Then he was gone.

  Lance raised his glass of champagne in mocking salute.

  Nelson’s appearance was the first of the night but not the last. By the time Roman had fended off over a dozen offers of congratulations, Lance had thankfully wandered somewhere else. Then Merrine finally arrived.

  “My CEO BFF,” she laughed at Roman as she came up to him, elegant in a skintight tuxedo and bright red lipstick, a Naomi Campbell lookalike with just a little more meat on her bones. Her hair was loose and long around her face and down her back. “Just how much are you ready to crawl out of your skin?”

  “I’m ready to leave, if that answers your question,” Roman said.

  Merrine drew close to him with the scent of flowers and chocolate, kissing him on each cheek like she’d gotten used to from the last few years living in Europe. With another teasing laugh, she handed him a bottle of sparkling water. “The crowd looks ready to eat you alive.”

  “You already missed the feast,” he said. “They’re happy I’m making them more money already.”

  “Ooh, you miracle worker!” She teased him with an upward flicker of ruthlessly pruned eyebrows.

  “You know better than anyone how fickle those numbers can be. It’s a coincidence that they’d surged so high while I’ve been here. It’s only been a week.”

  “As much as you’d like to think you’re just some beach bum who loves to take yoga classes and Zen out in his lawn chair, you’re not.” Merrine lightly stroked a nail along his jawline. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that you are a little bit of a business genius.”

  “Stop talking your foolishness and come dance with me,” he said. He didn’t want to talk any more about business and what anyone expected of him.

  He grabbed Merrine’s hand and led her off to the dance floor, the one spot in the ballroom not many people seemed to be making use of. The two open bars were crowded. The comfortable chairs arranged at different places in the room held the weight of elegantly dressed women and men, and the balconies had their fair share of smokers and people who just snuck away for some peace and quiet.

  The orchestra had stopped playing and the DJ now stood behind a complicated setup on one of the small interior balconies overlooking the ballroom, safe from anyone who even had the smallest thought of making a request. Music from the seventies throbbed from the speakers.

  “This is nice,” Merrine said once they were dancing to the Ohio Players.

  It actually was. As much of a loner as he was, Roman was enjoying some parts of his evening. The music and food, yes. But also seeing his brother hide that smirk of his and try to make real connections. Once Lance was CEO, they’d remember moments like this.

  Roman spun Merrine around, laughing when she did a shimmy and nearly gave the guy dancing near them a heart attack. Then he froze.

  “Everything okay?” Merrine turned to stare in the direction he was looking. “Oh! She’s gorgeous.”

  They both watched the woman glide into the room like she was some sort of woodland creature skating gracefully across a frozen lake. Her walk was a slow and sensual movement that was all woman, her legs hidden by the shimmering rainbow skirts of her floor-length, mermaid-style gown. The fabric hugged her body just perfectly. Thighs. Hips. The subtle curves of her breasts. Her hair was a midnight halo around her beautiful face and floated around her with each step.

  Aisha Clark.

  “Hands off, she’s taken,” he said before he could do better. Then he dug himself in deeper when he saw the gleam of sensual interest in his best friend’s eyes. “By me.”

  With a hand on the crook of his elbow, Merrine had the nerve to laugh. “Is she?”

  “Yes,” Roman said.

  Aisha wasn’t his, though. He wanted her to be, but what he wanted wasn’t possible and it certainly wasn’t right. Even now, his palms itched to touch her soft skin. His mouth longed to take a sip of desire directly from hers. Since their meeting in the bakery, his body clamored for a closeness to hers. And the desire had only grown more insistent since their impromptu meal together at the tea shop.

  Merrine’s soft laughter brought him back to himself. “Does this lovely morsel know that she’s already taken?”

  Roman shrugged, figuring it was better not to say anything than lie to his best friend. “She’s probably here to see me,” he said instead, because he couldn’t imagine her being at this party for any other reason. This uptight gathering didn’t seem quite her thing.

  Briefly, he told Merrine about meeting Aisha and what she wanted from him.

  “Interesting,” his best friend said.

  Aisha moved gracefully through the crowd, gliding closer to Roman although she obviously hadn’t seen him yet. Inexplicably nervous, he wiped his damp palms on his slacks.

  Merrine looked at him in surprise. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were falling for this girl.”

  “But you do know better,” Roman said softly, still watching Aisha move through the ballroom, steady and focused.

  It looked like she was searching for someone, her eyes roving from face to face, visually dismissing the people she saw but didn’t want. And then she noticed him. Aisha didn’t hesitate. She smiled, a soft and secretive thing, before beginning her purposeful glide his way. Roman’s heart threatened to punch its way out of his chest.

  “You’re definitely not falling for anybody.” The laughter was obnoxiously obvious in Merrine’s tone.

  Would it be rude to t
ell his best friend to shut up?

  But then it was too late to do anything but smile as Aisha appeared at Roman’s side.

  “Roman Sykes.” She smiled up at him first then turned to Merrine. “And friend.” Her grin was cheeky and bold and, God help him, Roman loved it.

  He could drown in the liquid depths of her eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were stalking me,” he said.

  “Do you know better?” Some shocked look must have broken through his calm facade because she laughed. “I’m just joking.”

  “Let me cut through your foreplay to introduce myself.” Merrine extended a hand to Aisha. “This one calls me his best friend but you can just call me Merrine.”

  “Hi, Merrine. A pleasure to meet you.” Aisha leaned forward the same moment that Merrine did and Roman watched with surprise as the two women naturally exchanged a double kiss on the cheeks. “I should have known that my Hot Yoga Daddy would be interesting enough to have a woman as his best friend.”

  Merrine practically choked on her laughter. “Hot Yoga Daddy?” Her eyes shone with mirth as she looked over at him.

  “That’s what I’ve been calling Roman in my head since we met at that cute little bakery in Grant Park.” Aisha quickly told the whole story, though it was a version Roman wasn’t completely sure he agreed with. “When he didn’t give me his name that day, what else could I call him?” The mischief made her glow.

  “I can see that,” Merrine said, just about guaranteeing she was giving up the role as his best anything except pain in the butt. “The touch of gray in his hair, the hot body. And he is very bendy from all that yoga.”

  Aisha chortled. “I wish I could find out just how bendy but he keeps pushing me away.”

  Heat rose up Roman’s spine but he clenched his teeth against it. That didn’t stop him from imagining just how much he could show her about what he could do with this body he’d honed to a fine machine from years of discipline.

  Merrine snuck him a look from the corner of her eyes. “I don’t think he’s doing much pushing today. Give him a try and see.”