Page 14 of The Call She Made That He Never Answered
Restructuring plans, retention evaluations, equity distribution—everything had to be finished before VitaGen's board of old foxes could react. Documents piled up. Conference calls back to back. My coffee cup never stayed empty.
Normally, acquisitions this size trigger resistance from the target company. I'd expected VitaGen to pull the same shit—media backlash, resignations, protests, lawsuits. But surprisingly, everything went smooth.
I'd planned two scenarios: fire all senior management, or meet Grandfather's demand to keep them all. I compromised—kept fifty percent. Not getting chewed out by the old man while maintaining some of my own judgment. The decision made me feel weak at first, but after two days of integration, I had to admit the old man knew his stuff. VitaGen's management didn't stage a mass walkout. The department heads who could've been obstacles were actively cooperating with the restructuring.
"Lucas, you've slept less than three hours in two days." Vivian brought me an espresso. "I'm worried about you."
I downed the coffee in one gulp.
"One more asset divestiture report." I rubbed my throbbing eyes, refocusing on the screen.
Day three, 1 a.m., my body finally revolted. Dizziness hit hard. The ceiling started spinning. I gripped the desk edge, forcing myself toward the private lounge.
The lounge was through my office, practically my bedroom now. Spare suits hung in the closet. Full toiletries in the bathroom. Business analysis reports stacked on the nightstand.Over the past six months handling this acquisition, I'd slept here more than at home.
I stripped off my jacket and tie and collapsed onto the bed. My body sank into the softness. Muscles finally relaxed. I closed my eyes, ready to let my brain shut down, even just for ten minutes...
Click.
The door lock turned.
I opened my eyes. Vivian walked in carrying something steaming.
"Warm milk. Helps you sleep." She approached the bed, holding out the cup.
I sat up and took it, sipped. The warm liquid slid down my throat, actually easing my frayed nerves a bit.
"Thanks." I handed back the empty cup, my look telling her she could leave.
She didn't.
She set the tray on the nightstand, eyes locked on my throat. I felt her gaze track my swallowing motion. The scrutiny made me uncomfortable.
"Something else?" I asked warily.
Vivian answered with action.
She perched on the edge of my bed, hand landing on my shoulder, starting to massage. "You're exhausted. Let me help you relax."
I should have stopped her. Logic said this wasn't appropriate. But exhaustion dulled my reflexes, and her technique was actually professional—the sore muscles loosening under her fingers.
"Remember Harvard?" Her voice dropped low, almost hypnotic. "When you were pushing through papers, I used to... help you relax like this."
Her cool fingers slid from my shoulder to my neck, pressure hitting just the right spots. I kept my eyes closed, my tense spine easing slightly under the massage. These past days of back-to-back overseas calls had wrung me out. I didn't refuse this level of service.
But gradually, the massage changed.
Her fingertips stopped working pressure points and slipped inside my collar, undoing my shirt buttons one by one, sharp nails scraping skin with a sting. Her touch burned too hot.
My eyes snapped open. The relaxed nerves went taut.
"What are you doing?" I warned her.
"Lucas." Vivian let out a sticky-sweet laugh, her breath damp against my ear. She extended her tongue, licking my earlobe. "I can make you feel even better than a massage..."
Vivian wrapped her arms around me from behind, body pressed tight. That's when I felt it. She'd unhooked her bra. Two soft mounds pressed directly against my back, hardened nipples rubbing along my spine through the thin fabric.
My exhausted brain finally caught up. Vivian was trying to seduce me. Working me like a hooker, trying to drag out my desire with her body.
