The CEO's Dilemma ; Undeniable Passion Page 7

  Holding the glass of red wine between her slender fingers, her mother warmly met her gaze. “Follow your heart, darling.”

  Devyn laughed. “I don’t think it’s her heart that she’s listening to right now, Mom.”

  “Dev!” Aisha stared at her sister while Ahmed and Elle nearly bust a collective gut cackling at Aisha’s embarrassment. “It’s not like that.”

  Her mother gave a slow nod. “Well, whether these feelings stem from your heart or a little farther south, do what you sense is right for you, love. Life is too short to deny yourself pleasure.”

  It was a motto her mother firmly believed in. Although Aisha was too young to remember everything about her parents when her father was alive, she knew her mother had loved him. She’d adored him. They had adored each other.

  After his death, she’d shut herself off from everyone but her children. Yes, she’d gone to work and done all the things necessary to keep the house. She’d come home after every workday and sit with her children, feed them, love them. But Aisha could never forget walking by her mother’s bedroom late one night and hearing the sound of her desperate, open-throated sobbing.

  When her mother finally pulled herself from the fog of grief, at least the one that had her crying alone in her room every night, she’d started to date. She’d exercised to get herself in shape. She’d started going out with her friends. She’d started having a life again. There hadn’t been anyone serious enough for her to bring home to her children, but she wasn’t a nun.

  Devin plucked a runaway popcorn kernel from her lap. “I can tell you like him already, probably way too much to pull back now.”

  “Maybe.” What Aisha hadn’t told them was that she’d been gone for Roman since the moment he’d bought her that coffee. She loved how honest he’d been with her that morning in the bakery. No sugar-coating. No BS. Maybe it had been the unfamiliar rejection. Maybe it was the position of the moon the previous night. Whatever it was, Aisha wanted Roman Sykes and she was on a shameless mission to get him. Mostly.

  “It’s such a bad idea.” She pressed the shiny material of her dress between her thumb and index finger, the bits of glitter embedded in the cloth rough to the touch. “Things are getting worse at work every day.”

  The resulting silence in the room was profound enough for Aisha to hear each of her own uncertain breaths.

  “This isn’t like you to doubt yourself, darling,” her mother said long moments later.

  “Yeah.” Ahmed frowned. He’d been one of her biggest champions over the years. And her biggest motivation for going after the things she wanted.

  “I’m not doubting myself, you guys, I’m just being cautious,” Aisha said, although the uncertainty in those words was painfully obvious.

  She hated it. She hadn’t come this far in her career or her life by making reckless decisions and, as much as she wanted Roman, she wasn’t about to start now. The trouble was, she wasn’t sure which of the decisions would be the more reckless one. Follow this brilliant ribbon of possibility with Roman. Or let this potentially complicated mess go. He thought she was too young. She was hurting him by challenging him about his mother’s memory. The obvious conflict of interest for him threatened to make whatever happened between them end in disaster.

  “I know it’s complicated, Aisha, but it’s not an impossible situation,” Dev said. She’d recently come through her own complicated situation with her now husband, Bennett, so she would know. “Why don’t you try to find some other alternatives to getting this Sykes thing so you can have him where you want him?” Dev waggled her eyebrows. “In your bed, obviously.”

  Aisha looked at her sister, an idea forming. Could it really be that simple?

  The “getting him into bed” part could be that simple. But finding something like the Sykes Prize to help her escape Wainwright and Tully? That was where she needed the luck.

  It wasn’t completely impossible. Was it?

  Chapter 9

  She’s too young for you.

  Don’t stir up this already complicated situation.

  Roman’s thoughts tumbled around one after the other, telling him it was better to leave Aisha alone. But he owed her an honest explanation about the fate of the Sykes Prize, especially after their last conversation. Right?

  Yeah, because phones don’t exist on the same plane as your ridiculous infatuation with a girl young enough to be your kid.

  With the one-sided conversation buzzing in his head, Roman stepped up to the reception desk in the spacious lobby of the high-rise that housed the offices of Wainwright and Tully.

  “Is Aisha Clark available?” he asked.

  The man behind the desk looked up from his computer at Roman, quickly scanning him from head to foot. In his dark blue, three-piece Zegna suit, Roman knew he didn’t read like some rando off the street, but that was exactly how the guy looked at him.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked, voice edging from neutral to suspicious.

  “Not at all.” He rested a hand on the low but wide desk. “Just tell her Roman is here to see her, please.”

  That quick body scan again and the receptionist pressed a button and spoke into the Bluetooth attached discreetly to his ear. “Ms. Clark? There’s a Roman, no last name given, in the lobby wanting to see you.” He listened for a few seconds. “Of course.” He ended the connection. “If you’ll just take a seat, she’ll be right out.”

  Hands in his pockets, Roman stepped away from the desk and strolled to the row of uncomfortable-looking chrome-and-leather chairs in the light-filled lobby. With the framed photographs of buildings that architects in the famous firm had no doubt designed, a massive gray rug underfoot and wide windows looking over midtown Atlanta, the space gave off an ambience of subtle luxury, exclusivity and meticulous care. Shades of white, permutations of gray and a wide stripe of black running through the middle of the pale wall made the place seem cold. And he’d thought the lobby of Sykes Global was a little full of itself. It was downright homey compared to this.

  “Roman? This is a surprise.”

  He’d been so busy critiquing the lobby’s design that he hadn’t noticed Aisha’s appearance. He turned and had to stifle a smile. She looked so much herself, a creature of warmth and passion, despite the cold and unwelcoming workplace. Her gorgeous hair was pulled back into two thick braids, the ends fastened by a bright red flower clip. A white blouse complemented the rich color of her skin and her slacks echoed the red of her hair clips.

  “A good surprise, I hope.”

  “I’m not sure about that yet.” Her eyes dipped to take in the receptionist who was watching them both with avid curiosity. “Come back to my office.”

  He followed her out of the lobby and through a maze of cubicles to a small office. It was just large enough for her desk, a visitor’s chair and a drafting table. The single window overlooked a narrow alley and the side of a neighboring building.

  “Have a seat, please,” she said.

  Roman strolled to her window and glanced down into the alley before turning back to her. “Actually, I’m here on the chance that you haven’t had lunch yet.” She stared at him as if he was speaking a foreign language she didn’t understand. “Have you?”

  “What?”

  “Eaten lunch.” He teased her with his raised eyebrow. “You know, something you put in your mouth and chew. Usually ingested in the middle of the day.”

  “Um. No.” She blinked and shook her head. “I’m sorry. You caught me completely off guard.”

  To be honest, that was sort of his plan. At every step since they’d met, it seemed like she was the one keeping Roman on his toes. He’d wanted to turn the tables for once. And, he had to admit to himself, be in the presence of her refreshing beauty one more time. Sure, she was young, but there was nothing wrong with him basking in her incredible energy and borrowing
some of that energy to power him through the rest of his workday.

  “Well, the last time we saw each other, we talked about an alternate design based on new information you learn about the marvelous Sylvia Sykes.” He felt his mouth curve up with his mother’s name. “There’s no better time to discuss such things than over lun—”

  A brisk knock on the door cut off his words. Aisha barely opened her mouth to respond to whoever it was before the door opened.

  A gray head poked in. “Ms. Clark, I heard you have a guest. Is it Roman Sykes, perhaps?” From his position at the window, Roman watched the man come uninvited into Aisha’s space, his eyes taking in everything that his manner said all belonged to him. “Ah, Mr. Sykes. Welcome to Wainwright and Tully.” He fully ignored Aisha now. “Is there something the firm can help you with?”

  Although Sykes Global primarily dealt with its own in-house architects, there had been a few times over the years when the company had done some outsourcing. Roman had no doubt the man was in here nosing around to see what could be done to elevate Wainwright and Tully. Which in theory meant he should have allowed Aisha to handle Roman.

  “I already have all the help I need,” Roman said to the man who could only be Albert Tully according to the information he’d gotten from the firm’s web site. “As you know, Ms. Clark is the winner of the latest Sykes Prize.” He tipped his head at Aisha. “As such, she and I have some things to discuss.”

  Tully took a couple more steps into the office and straightened his already immaculate tie. “Well, not to minimize the work Aisha has done for you, but we have much more experienced architects here who would be glad to speak with you about future projects.”

  Was that how things worked here? “Ms. Clark has everything I need.” He emphasized her last name and the respect it carried. “You can go and close the door behind you.”

  Tully was goggle-eyed. Roman watched him visibly struggle for something to say, but nothing apparently came to him because he nodded stiffly and backed out of the office, closing the door with a sharp click.

  “His professionalism leaves something to be desired.” Roman ambled away from the window and approached Aisha’s desk. “So are you ready for lunch? My treat.”

  She quickly bounced back from the unpleasant surprise of her boss’s visit, making Roman think this wasn’t a single instance of disrespect. He was starting to see Aisha’s reason for wanting to turn her back on this place. After grabbing her purse and with her keys in hand, she waved him out in front of her then locked her office door.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been in this area,” Roman said as she double-checked the door lock. “Any restaurant recommendations?”

  They ended up at a small Indian place at the end of a dead-end street. With water and crispy papadum in front of them, Roman brought up some light topics of conversation. Once the main meal came, he asked the waiter not to disturb them then launched into the reason he’d ostensibly come to see Aisha about.

  “Have you given any more thought to a new design?” He dipped a piece of garlic naan in the creamy saag paneer he’d ordered and bit into it with a sigh of pleasure.

  If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear that Aisha watched him nervously as she picked up her glass of mango lassi.

  “I have,” she said. “But putting my designs on paper would be premature. After all, we haven’t made the time to talk about your mother and what elements you think she would love in a structure honoring her life.” Her tongue swiped across her lower lip and Roman almost knocked over his glass of water.

  For something constructive to do with his hands, he picked up his fork, only to put it back down. He was eating with his hands anyway.

  “You’re right. We should do that soon. I don’t think an hour’s lunch is enough time.” He folded another piece of naan slathered with the creamy spinach into his mouth and finished chewing. “Since you and I talked at the party, I realized that you’re right. In the last few years, I’ve been doing my own thing and not paying too much attention to what Sykes Global has been up to. The prize has become almost an institution, something life-changing for the architect who wins, and has also cemented a damn good reputation for the company. I won’t win any respect as the new CEO if I get rid of something that obviously has benefitted the company for years.”

  He felt humbled to tell Aisha this, but it was only the truth.

  She teased him with a look. “So you admit you were a bit shortsighted in rescinding the prize? Stubborn even?”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Roman said, but he felt the smile taking over his face.

  “Okay, fine. So what does that mean for me?”

  “Basically, the same thing we discussed. You’ll create something more suited to its intention and we move on from there. I never put out a press release about canceling the prize, so we’ll just go on as before.”

  “The press already has my design, though.” As if that decision had given her permission to finally eat, Aisha picked up a piece of tandoori chicken with her fingers and bit into it, her red lips latching onto the deliciously spiced and scented piece of meat. “They already know exactly what the structure is supposed to look like.” Aisha licked the spices from her mouth and continued eating.

  Under the table, Roman’s thigh jumped. She was actively trying to kill him. There was no other explanation for what she was doing to him. Unless, of course, he admitted that he’d done this to himself when he’d barged into her office. Either way, he realized she may get knocked off guard for a bit, but she always came back harder than before.

  And speaking of hard...

  Thumb rubbing the underside of his jaw, he dragged his gaze away from her.

  He cleared his throat. “That’s true. But once you finish the new one, the prize committee will send out a press release with a new design created by the winning architect and that’ll be that. You’ve already proven that you’re talented and capable when the committee approved your design as one of the final five.”

  From what Roman could find out, the process was relatively fair as far as contests based on aesthetics went. After the prize committee received the thousands of entries, they narrowed it down to the best five and then the CEO of Sykes Global, his father in this case, chose the winner from the select few.

  “Nobody should have a problem with that,” Roman finished.

  “I certainly don’t,” Aisha said with a grin. “I approve of this method, CEO Roman.”

  “Good,” he said dryly. “I wouldn’t want to risk your actual disapproval.”

  To his surprise, he realized just how true that was.

  Aisha stuck her tongue out at him, her eyes glittering like jewels in the restaurant’s overhead lights.

  Despite her youth, despite how very different she was from him, despite everything that put up Don’t Go There in flashing neon lights in front of his eyes, Aisha had Roman snared and he couldn’t get loose. Sitting in front of her as she smiled and licked the tandoori spices from her fingers, he wasn’t even sure that he wanted to get free.

  Tethered at the ends of her long and elegant fingers, at that moment, seemed like the perfect place to be.

  Damn, he was so screwed.

  Chapter 10

  After she and Roman finished their lunch and he headed back to his office, Aisha walked into her office building still a little dazed that he’d visited her. And that he’d told her the prize was still hers.

  She wanted to celebrate. She wanted to call her family and tell them the good news. But, of course, she had to get back to work first.

  She’d only been in her office about three minutes before Wallace Wainwright buzzed her phone, wanting to see her in his office. Aisha was tempted to ignore him but she had a cat to feed.

  In his office, she closed the door behind her and sat in the chair in front of his desk.

 
; “Sir?”

  Wainwright regarded her with steepled hands resting on the desk, his gaze penetrating. Taller than his partner and with dark hair only touched slightly by silver, despite being in his mid-fifties, Wallace Wainwright was often the crush of the new interns in their office. They got over it once they got to know him.

  “Has Sykes approached you about working on something else?” He got straight to the point.

  It’s none of your damn business, she wanted to say. “Not at all. We’re ironing out some details about the design I submitted.” She pressed home without a smile. “The winning design.”

  Was it her imagination or did Wainwright wince?

  “Well, I’m sure Albert mentioned it when he came to your office earlier, but we want to make the most of the talent of the firm. So on any future projects Mr. Sykes proposes to you—or if you’re making changes to the design of yours he already has—feel free to use the vast talent pool here in the office. Quite a few of the senior architects would leap at the chance to work with Sykes. They also have more experience dealing with large-scale projects.” He paused. “No offense.”

  Much offense taken. “I can handle this one on my own,” she said, her linked fingers draped over her crossed knee. “I’m only working on the fuel station redesign and that’s just about finished. I have plenty of time to deal with whatever Mr. Sykes needs from me.” And because she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do something crazy like drag out her work on the gas station, she added, “The drafting table I have at home doesn’t get nearly enough use so I’ll be working on any Sykes-related project at home and during my time away from the office.”

  The sides of Wainwright’s mouth pinched tight. “Very well. But don’t forget that just because the project you have on your table is only a gas station doesn’t mean it doesn’t deserve your full attention.”

  “I’d never think that, sir.” She smiled placidly at him while he watched her as steadily as a hawk, probably trying to find some way to stick her with some more busywork.