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Now, Adam is suing Kellan and the companyfor intellectual property theft. I’m determined to win him creditfor all his hard work—and a fat share of the profits once the applaunches.
“I just want what’s rightfully mine.” Adamtwitches nervously again. “I spent two years working on thatprogram, and now Kellan’s acting like he’s the mastermind who cameup with the whole thing.”
“Don’t worry,” I calm him. “They know wehave a strong case. That’s why they’re resorting to bullyingtactics.”
“There's something else.” Adam frowns,looking around. He lowers his head so the receptionist can’t listenin. “I overheard two guys in the bathroom talking. Venture's CEOhas flown in just for this meeting.”
“You mean the silent partner?” I ask,surprised. I’ve been researching Venture for months, but I stilldon't know who’s backing Kellan. The only evidence we have thatthis silent partner even exists is an unreadable signature on a fewdocuments the courts made Venture turn over to us.
Looks like the ghost is coming out ofhiding.
Finally, another thin, perfectly polishedassistant appears and leads us down the hall and into theboardroom. If the décor in the lobby was meant to impress,everything about this room is designed to intimidate. The walls arepainted a dark, crimson red, the conference table is chrome andglass, and there’s a bank of windows facing us with a stu
“Welcome. Please take your seats.”
My eyes adjust, and I realize that the otherside of the conference table is completely full. A row of sixfrowning 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 andbroad-shouldered with dark hair, his back facing the room as hestares out at the view.
That must be the silent partner.
I decide offense is the best defense. “Goodmorning, everyone,” I say, striding forward. I take the empty seatat the head of the table and look around. “My name is JustineJenkins, and I'm representing Adam Granger. Shall we getstarted?”
There’s a pause, and I can tell from thesurprised looks that I’ve shocked them.
Good.
I look around. Kellan is still lounging witha conceited smirk on his face, looking every inch the Californianpretty boy. The other guys at the table are all WASPs in expensivesuits.
I blink. “Greyson,” I say coolly,recognizing one of the lawyers across from me.
He sneers back. Charming as ever. He was afew years ahead of me at Stanford Law, and rumor had it his parentsbought his acceptance letter with a healthy donation to the alumnifund. Guess he landed on his feet.
I pull out my case files and give them all abig smile to show them I’m not intimidated. “Shall we start?” Irepeat.
The answer comes from the man at thewindow.
“Of course, Ms. Jenkins. Let’s get down tobusiness.”
Chills roll down my spine. I catch mybreath, feeling a sick twist in my stomach.
No. It can’t be.
I know that voice.
The deep tone. The crisp British accent. ButI don’t believe it's true, not until he turns around and I see hisgorgeous face—the face that’s haunted my dreams for the last threeyears.
Ashton Pierce.
My best friend, my closest confidante. Andfor 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 thetable, slow as a lion stalking his prey. “Ms. Jenkins, a pleasureto see you.” Ash’s blue eyes roam over me from head to toe, butthere’s not a flicker of familiarity in his gaze as he holds outhis hand. “Ashton Pierce, at your service.”
I take it in a daze. What is this? He’sacting like we’ve never met before.
“Uh, hi,” I stumble, feeling like I just gothit over the head with an anvil. How the hell is my opposition onthis case my old best friend – the one man I ever saw a futurewith?
My heartbeat thunders in my ears. My head isspi
Relax, I order myself.Think!
Ash takes a seat at the other end of thetable and checks his Blackberry. I use the chance to study him forthe first time. Now that my shock is wearing off, I can see thathe's still devastatingly handsome, all dark hair and chiseled jaw,and those intensely blue eyes. But there are differences, too: theAsh I knew was happy in jeans and sneakers, while this man iswearing an impeccably tailored suit with a designer watch on hiswrist. His perfectly styled dark hair sweeps back from his foreheadand frames the piercing blue eyes staring back at me, totallycalm.
Panty-meltingly hot.
“Greyson, would you start by summarizing ourcomplaints?” Ash is all business as he takes back control of themeeting. 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. Allmy old hurt comes rushing back, and with it a whirlwind ofinsecurity. He promised to call me after he finished his MBA andwas settled back in England, but he never did. I thought I got overthe anger and bitterness years ago, but sitting right here in thesame 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 claimto VideoMine.”
Ten thousand dollars?
The insulting offer snaps me out of mydaze.
“Absolutely not, Mr. Pierce.” Imanage 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 ofour past.
You’re better than this, Justine. Get yourhead 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’msomething 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 thinkshe can throw Adam’s work away, just the same as he tossed out ourfriendship. “Wall Street thinks VideoMine could be worth billionsone day. We’re not settling until my client gets a promise of hisfair share.”
“Fair?” Ash looks amused. “You don’t haveany proof your client even invented the app. Or wrote thecode.”
Adam rises out of his seat. “Only because hestole my laptop!” he exclaims, pointing at Kellan.
“Give it a rest,” Kellan sneers, loungingback in his chair. He’s upgraded from the dorky hoodies I saw inthe photos Adam showed me. Now it’s all crisp Oxford shirts andbespoke suits. Yeah, he fits right in with this crowd. “You’re justjealous, trying to hitch a ride on my talent.”
“Bullshit! I’m the one who had to fix allyour mistakes—”
“You couldn’t code your way out of a paperbag!” Kellan jeers.
“Enough.” With one word from Ashton, theroom goes silent.
I feel a bolt of lust. Damn. He always had adominant kind of power, but these past three years, he’s clearlyhoned it into a devastating control.
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