All or Nothing at All
Page 6

“It’s different,” he gritted out.
“How?” Cal asked.
He clenched his fists under the table. Frustration rippled through him. “She tricked us. Plus, if she fails, we lose Cushman for future projects and put ourselves in a serious financial hole. It’s too risky.”
“I don’t think so,” Cal said. “She’ll have to be lead, but it’s critical you work with her at every step. That will confirm our success.”
He refused to acknowledge the slight trickle of panic threatening. “I’m too busy to babysit. I have my own shit going on.”
“Like what?” Dalton asked. “You said in another week you’d be clear. Did you take something else on?”
He tamped down the urge to pound on his brother. “I was planning on investigating some houses outside of town.” The vague explanation only made it more obvious he was full of crap. Dalton and Caleb shared a knowing look.
“Why are you so against this?” Cal demanded. “Don’t you think she’s earned CFO? Or is your problem personal?”
He jerked and smothered a curse word. His brothers knew they’d had a fling years ago, but he’d kept most of the details a secret. Being with Sydney had been almost taboo—she’d been a soft spot for his parents and had practically grown up in their household like a younger sister. Of course, his brothers had been barely talking back then, anyway. When he took off to New York to carve out his own path, they lost all contact for five full years. It was only when Christian Pierce died that Tristan returned to Harrington to discover his father’s will stated Pierce Brothers would be sold unless they all ran the company together for one full year.
The memory of that first year made Tristan shake his head. They’d barely been able to be civil to one another, let alone run a company. It was a hard year, full of painful fights and realizations that had changed them all. Finally, they’d healed the past, and he’d gotten his brothers back. There was still the occasional blowup or argument, but underneath was a respect and love that guided them through. Finally Pierce Brothers was a true family company again, and he’d decided to stay in Harrington.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to move forward with Sydney.
“Not personal,” he shot back. “Just trying to present a full view of the obstacles. I know we all admire Sydney, but this is a big decision.”
Cal’s gunmetal eyes flickered as if he knew what the real problem was but wasn’t going to force his brother to say it. “I say it’s an easy decision to make,” Cal said. “But we all have to be in agreement. Those in favor of offering Sydney the CFO position and taking on Cushman’s project, say yes.”
“Yes,” Brady said.
“Hell yes,” Dalton called out.
“It’s a yes for me, too,” Cal said.
Tristan remained silent. Everyone turned to look at him. A strange stirring in the pit of his stomach warned him that if he agreed, things were going to change. He wouldn’t be able to constantly avoid her. He’d be in her presence, day after day, working closely with her.
But even he couldn’t deny her the promotion she deserved, no matter his doubts. No matter how much he didn’t like it.
“Agreed.”
“Good. I’ll bring her in.” Cal headed out the door and returned with Sydney. Tristan had to give her credit. Even at the moment of truth, she gave off the confident vibe of a woman deserving of success. When had that happened? When had she changed from the insecure, tentative young girl who looked to him for all the answers?
“It’s official. Welcome to the board, Sydney. Congratulations.”
Her joyous smile poked at Tristan’s heart, but he kept it firmly barricaded. Cal gave her a warm hug, Dalton picked her up for a quick spin in his arms, and Brady squeezed her shoulder.
Tristan remained seated, somehow frozen in place.
“Why don’t you talk to Tristan about your next step with Cushman?” Cal suggested. “I know we have to move fast, so I’ll leave you both to work out those details.”
“Of course.”
Everyone else filed out, shutting the door behind them. Silence descended. Tristan watched her smooth down her skirt, grab some papers, and gracefully sit in the leather chair.
He forced himself to speak. “Congratulations.”
She nodded. Tilted her head. And met his gaze with full force. “You didn’t want to vote for me, did you?”
He tried to keep his expression neutral. No need for her to see any type of weakness at this point. Not when they were about to spend too many hours together on a regular basis. “No,” he admitted.
Her banked anger shot out at him in sparks. “Don’t like sharing the spotlight?” she challenged. “Or does my being boss bother you?”
His jaw clenched. “My ego has nothing to do with my reservations.”
“Then why?” she demanded. “Haven’t I proved myself at this point? Or will I never be good enough for you?”
He refused to squirm in his chair. The familiar scent of orange blossoms drifted in the air and teased his nostrils. The smooth expanse of her bare legs in those ridiculous heels bothered the hell out of him. Why couldn’t she wear pants? Why did she consistently emanate sensuality with every breath? He tried to snap back his focus. “It’s not that you don’t deserve the promotion. You’ve never taken on such an ambitious project, and you forced us to make a decision based on how bad we want Cushman to sign. That isn’t fair.”
“Bullshit,” she bit out. “I forced you to make a decision you would’ve dragged on for way too long. And I’ll relish showing you how well I can run this project on my own. I’m not about to fail, Tristan. I worked too hard to get here, and one day I’ll get the satisfaction of hearing you say you were wrong. Wrong about me and my ability to handle anything you throw at me.”
His dick stirred in his pants at the raw hunger carving out the lines of her face, the sizzling heat in her eyes. The same hunger and heat she used to express when looking at him, begging him with her body and voice and eyes to take her, fuck her, claim her.
The space between them shrank, filling the air with a crackling, sexual tension that exploded in the room and tried to drag him under. He sucked in a breath, got himself under control, and swore he’d do whatever he needed to keep his distance. No way was he going back down that path. He’d once begged her to choose him, and she’d turned away.