Now, Adam is suing Kellan and the company for intellectual property theft. I’m determined to win him credit for all his hard work—and a fat share of the profits once the app launches.
“I just want what’s rightfully mine.” Adam twitches nervously again. “I spent two years working on that program, and now Kellan’s acting like he’s the mastermind who came up with the whole thing.”
“Don’t worry,” I calm him. “They know we have a strong case. That’s why they’re resorting to bullying tactics.”
“There's something else.” Adam frowns, looking around. He lowers his head so the receptionist can’t listen in. “I overheard two guys in the bathroom talking. Venture's CEO has flown in just for this meeting.”
“You mean the silent partner?” I ask, surprised. I’ve been researching Venture for months, but I still don't know who’s backing Kellan. The only evidence we have that this silent partner even exists is an unreadable signature on a few documents the courts made Venture turn over to us.
Looks like the ghost is coming out of hiding.
Finally, another thin, perfectly polished assistant appears and leads us down the hall and into the boardroom. If the décor in the lobby was meant to impress, everything about this room is designed to intimidate. The walls are painted a dark, crimson red, the conference table is chrome and glass, and there’s a bank of windows facing us with a stunning view of Central park. The clouds shift outside, sending a ray of sun shining right into my eyes. I blink, dazzled.
“Welcome. Please take your seats.”
My eyes adjust, and I realize that the other side of the conference table is completely full. A row of six frowning attorneys flank a smug-looking guy I recognize as Kellan, Adam’s old partner.
The seat at the head of the table is empty. When I look around, I see a man by the windows. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair, his back facing the room as he stares out at the view.
That must be the silent partner.
I decide offense is the best defense. “Good morning, everyone,” I say, striding forward. I take the empty seat at the head of the table and look around. “My name is Justine Jenkins, and I'm representing Adam Granger. Shall we get started?”
There’s a pause, and I can tell from the surprised looks that I’ve shocked them.
Good.
I look around. Kellan is still lounging with a conceited smirk on his face, looking every inch the Californian pretty boy. The other guys at the table are all WASPs in expensive suits.
I blink. “Greyson,” I say coolly, recognizing one of the lawyers across from me.
He sneers back. Charming as ever. He was a few years ahead of me at Stanford Law, and rumor had it his parents bought his acceptance letter with a healthy donation to the alumni fund. Guess he landed on his feet.
I pull out my case files and give them all a big smile to show them I’m not intimidated. “Shall we start?” I repeat.
The answer comes from the man at the window.
“Of course, Ms. Jenkins. Let’s get down to business.”
Chills roll down my spine. I catch my breath, feeling a sick twist in my stomach.
No. It can’t be.
I know that voice.
The deep tone. The crisp British accent. But I don’t believe it's true, not until he turns around and I see his gorgeous face—the face that’s haunted my dreams for the last three years.
Ashton Pierce.
My best friend, my closest confidante. And for one amazing night, the most mind-blowing sex of my life.
CHAPTER THREE
It's really him.
I’m still reeling as he walks around the table, slow as a lion stalking his prey. “Ms. Jenkins, a pleasure to see you.” Ash’s blue eyes roam over me from head to toe, but there’s not a flicker of familiarity in his gaze as he holds out his hand. “Ashton Pierce, at your service.”
I take it in a daze. What is this? He’s acting like we’ve never met before.
“Uh, hi,” I stumble, feeling like I just got hit over the head with an anvil. How the hell is my opposition on this case my old best friend – the one man I ever saw a future with?
My heartbeat thunders in my ears. My head is spinning, and I fight to pull myself together.
Relax, I order myself. Think!
Ash takes a seat at the other end of the table and checks his Blackberry. I use the chance to study him for the first time. Now that my shock is wearing off, I can see that he's still devastatingly handsome, all dark hair and chiseled jaw, and those intensely blue eyes. But there are differences, too: the Ash I knew was happy in jeans and sneakers, while this man is wearing an impeccably tailored suit with a designer watch on his wrist. His perfectly styled dark hair sweeps back from his forehead and frames the piercing blue eyes staring back at me, totally calm.
Panty-meltingly hot.
“Greyson, would you start by summarizing our complaints?” Ash is all business as he takes back control of the meeting. He’s still acting as if I’m a total stranger.
Like that night meant nothing to him.
I feel a splinter of pain in my chest. All my old hurt comes rushing back, and with it a whirlwind of insecurity. He promised to call me after he finished his MBA and was settled back in England, but he never did. I thought I got over the anger and bitterness years ago, but sitting right here in the same room, I feel the wound like it was yesterday.
“Do you agree to the terms, Ms. Jenkins?” Ash asks, and I realize I’ve missed everything they’ve just said. At my hesitation, he summarizes. “We’ll agree to drop the lawsuits, and pay your client ten thousand dollars, if he gives up all claim to VideoMine.”
Ten thousand dollars?
The insulting offer snaps me out of my daze.
“Absolutely not, Mr. Pierce.” I manage to recover. My heart is racing, but I force myself to focus. There’s too much on the line for me to fall apart just because of our past.
You’re better than this, Justine. Get your head in the game.
Ash quirks his eyebrow, looking surprised. “Those are generous terms. Too generous, my lawyers tell me.”
The wall of suits stares at me like I’m something they scraped off their shoe, but I don’t care about them. The only one here that matters is Ash.
I glare at him across the table. He thinks he can throw Adam’s work away, just the same as he tossed out our friendship. “Wall Street thinks VideoMine could be worth billions one day. We’re not settling until my client gets a promise of his fair share.”
“Fair?” Ash looks amused. “You don’t have any proof your client even invented the app. Or wrote the code.”
Adam rises out of his seat. “Only because he stole my laptop!” he exclaims, pointing at Kellan.
“Give it a rest,” Kellan sneers, lounging back in his chair. He’s upgraded from the dorky hoodies I saw in the photos Adam showed me. Now it’s all crisp Oxford shirts and bespoke suits. Yeah, he fits right in with this crowd. “You’re just jealous, trying to hitch a ride on my talent.”
“Bullshit! I’m the one who had to fix all your mistakes—”
“You couldn’t code your way out of a paper bag!” Kellan jeers.
“Enough.” With one word from Ashton, the room goes silent.
I feel a bolt of lust. Damn. He always had a dominant kind of power, but these past three years, he’s clearly honed it into a devastating control.
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