“I’ve got this,” she said a little more calmly. “Trust me. Nothing is more important than finding this leak. Let me take care of it.”
Trinity nodded. “Let’s meet again on Friday. You can give us a progress report then.”
Cass watched the other ladies stand and leave the conference room. No one said a word but the vote of no confidence rang out in the silence, nonetheless.
With the room empty, she let her forehead thunk the table but the wood didn’t cool her raging thoughts.
She needed a plan.
But Gage had messed her up. Of course he was the reason she’d slipped up in the board meeting. Why had he picked today to dismantle her careful facade?
Her head snapped up. What if the timing wasn’t coincidental? It had been bothering her how accurate his information was and how quickly on the heels of the trade article publication that he’d shown up. What if he’d planted someone in her company who was feeding him information and the mention of Fyra in the trade magazine had been designed to throw her off?
But why would he do that? He was already successful in his own right and he was willing to pay for the formula. It wasn’t as if he’d put a mole in her company in hopes of stealing it.
Or was it?
She had to make sure. She’d never forgive herself if she left that stone unturned.
She also had to make progress on discovering who the culprit was and the faster the better. If the leak heard the formula was worth one hundred million dollars to GB Skin, it was as good as stolen. And Gage probably wasn’t the only competitor willing to ante up.
Fyra needed Cass to step up, to lead this company. So she’d keep her friends close and her enemies closer, no matter what sort of distasteful cozying up to the CEO of GB Skin she’d have to do. After all, she did owe Gage Branson and it was time to pay him back.
He’d used her once upon a time. Turnabout was fair play in Gage’s book, was it? It was time for Cass to wholeheartedly embrace that mantra.
Whatever Gage’s game was, she’d uncover it. And maybe exact some revenge at the same time. Karma indeed.
* * *
Whistling as he rounded the Hummer’s bumper, Gage went over his pitch as he strolled toward the entrance to Fyra Cosmetics only one short day after running into Cass in the parking lot. After she’d kicked him out, he’d really expected to have to push her for another appointment. When she’d called, it had been a pleasant surprise.
The 9:00 a.m. appointment had been another one. Nice to be Cass’s first priority for the day. Apparently she’d thought about the logic of his offer overnight and was finally on board. Or the other executives had convinced her that selling him the formula did make for smart business, like he’d told Cass. Either way, the tide had turned.
Which was good because Arwen didn’t like the hotel, and she’d let Gage know about it. Loudly. He’d have to take her on a weekend camping trip to the Hill Country to make up for all of this. Hopefully, he could melt a little of the ice in Cass’s spine, close the deal and be back in Austin tomorrow.
Depending how things went with the ice melting, of course. If Cass was still as hot as he remembered under her new bulletproof CEO exterior, he might stick around for a couple of days. Arwen could rough it.
Cass didn’t make him cool his heels like he’d thought she would. After yesterday, with all the power plays disguised as flirting and Cass not letting him run roughshod over her, he’d come prepared for battle. Hell, he’d kind of looked forward to another game of one-upmanship. It was rare that a woman could match him.
She appeared in the reception area looking gorgeous and untouchable in another sharp suit with a microskirt, this time in eye-popping candy pink, and she’d swept up her hair into another severe bun-like thing held by lacquered chopsticks that he immediately wanted to take apart. Why was that so hot?
He dredged up a memory of her old look from college, which had largely consisted of yoga pants and hoodies, and he’d liked that, too. But this was something else. Something elemental. He wanted to explore this new Cass in the worst way.
“Good morning, Mr. Branson,” she said, though the frost in her tone told him she thought it was anything but. “This way.”
The chilly greeting and use of his last name put a grin on his face. So she planned to cross swords after all. Excellent.
This time, he didn’t even hesitate at the door of her office. No point in beating around the bush when the upper hand was still up for grabs. He waltzed into the middle of all that purple and plunked down into a chair. Happened to be the one behind the desk—Cass’s chair—but he figured that would be enough to get her into the room.