MAX
Sunset paints the sky in fire and light, turning what was once a calm blue into a red-orange blaze. The moon is already up and fighting for dominance, reflecting silver on skyscrapers that brighten in anticipation.
It’s been a long day.
A slew of press tours and talk shows.
Most of the commentators had only one question—how will Stinton Group recover from this giant blow?
I drum my fingers on the desk, restless, watching the night devour the city while traffic thickens on the road. The chains are falling off the ankles of nine-to-five employees. Honest, hardworking folks leaving their desks and cubicles behind to live their own lives. Lives that aren’t controlled by people like me, who sit in my big office scrutinizing the sunset.
They’re going home, but my day is far from over. Weary or no, an exhaustive to-do list tells me I’m not even close to being able to relax.
Running an enterprise like Stinton Group demands a machine-like focus. It’s a constant war with vendors, suppliers, and new accounts as well as walking a delicate tight rope called ‘getting the approval of the board’.
My father’s co-founders are like animals smelling blood. As much as they prop me up and applaud me for the work I’ve put into Stinton Group, they’re just as eager to see me fall. It’ll be sweeter if they can prove that the eldest son of George Stinton was a failure like his mother’s side of the family.
I take a deep, calming breath and turn away from the window, just as my assistant marches into the room. The door bangs shut behind him and I get an instant headache.
“Hills, how many times have I told you not to slam the door like that?”
Wrenching his tie, Hills flounces into the fancy sofa opposite my desk. “Max, you’re gonna fire her tomorrow, right?”
“What are you talking about?” I open my laptop and tap out my password.
“That mechanic lady. You called her over to fire her, right?”
I peer at Hills. He’s tall and lean with a penchant for skinny ties and an ambition that got him out of a trailer park and into one of the finest colleges in the country. It’s that uncontrollable greed that makes him both an asset and a loose cannon.
In that way, he reminds me of my brother.
Which is one of the reasons I can’t seem to fire him.
That and he’s been my best friend since those wild days in university. He followed me to Stinton Group where he’s been my assistant ever since I took over from my father.
I’ve been getting more and more complaints about him lately. Any other person and he would have gotten his walking papers months ago. But having someone I trust by my side means more to me than ability right now. Especially when the board is looking at me to fix all that my brother broke and has an axe ready to fall on my head if I don’t.
“I don’t see what my plans with her have to do with you,” I mumble, looking over the report the marketing director sent to my inbox.
A quick skim makes my stomach tighten. Their ideas to revitalize and rebrand the chain of Cross Roads Auto Shops is laughable. Why the hell do I pay them to regurgitate the same old ideas?
This problem needs a fresh solution. A new take. I need something raw and eye-catching. But I also need something with a soft core. Something that’ll connect with the heart of the nation.
Stinton Group didn’t just lose funds when Trevor ran off with all of Stinton Investment’s money. If the mess my brother left behind were that simple, I’d have solved it by now. Money comes easily to a Stinton.
But money doesn’t build trust.
To gain it back in a way that won’t explode in our faces, we need to strike the right chord—somewhere between approachable and aspiring. That’s the response I need from the general populace. Not a way to scrub our group’s bad name from the public eye but a way to get them to sympathize with us, to root for us even.
How I’m going to do that…
I have no idea.
That’s why I’m not going home tonight until I figure this out.
My mind is churning and I don’t realize Hills is staring at me until he clears his throat. I shoot a hard glance at him.
He frowns. “You’re doing that thing again when you space out and completely ignore what I asked.”
If he didn’t know all my secrets, I would have fired him for that tone alone. Because we’re friends, Hills walks that really fine line between professional and out of order.
“What were you saying?” I rub the bridge of my nose.
He shoots to a sitting position, legs apart and elbow to his thigh. Tilting his head slightly, he scowls. “That mechanic girl. She’s a maniac. What she did today should get her sued.”
My lips quirk up.
“You think this is funny?” His eyes nearly bulge out of his head.
I shrug. Hills is used to women fawning over him and delights in the attention. It’s my first time seeing anyone knock him down a peg and it’s oddly satisfying.
“There was nothing funny about it.” He traces the shape of a circle against his ear. “I mean, she’s bonkers. What kind of person locks you up in a room so she can work on your car? And then,” he throws out an arm, “and then she has the nerve to act like I’m the bad guy? She basically high jacked your car and expected my gratitude.”
“You should have given it,” I say simply.
Hills sputters. “Why the hell would I?”
“She fixed it. The car runs like new. I plan to thank her for it.”
“Thank her? After what she did?”
I nod and tap my pen on the desk, recalling Ms. Banner’s tense conversation with me over the phone. She hung up on me twice. Twice. That was new. I look forward to meeting her.
“You’re being sentimental, Stinton. It doesn’t suit you.”
“She got results.”
“And?”
“And I respect that.”
Black Beauty, my car, belonged to my mother. I bought it for her when I got promoted in the company. She refused to drive it at first. Said she didn’t want anything that I bought with that money, but I begged her and, once she got behind the wheel, it was over. She used to zip around the city in that car, smiling with the wind in her hair and the radio at full blast.
My chest tightens. She would have hated to see the machine I’ve become. She would have hated how entrenched I am in this group. Mom was always trying to get me as far away from my dad as possible.
I shake memories of my mother out of my head. “I took that car to the dealership. They couldn’t fix it. Took it all over the city and it came back with the same problem. No one made it run like that.”
“That doesn’t mean her work is great. The car might break down again.”
He’s right.
“Why are you taking up for her?”
Another good question.
I mull it over. Maybe it’s because hearing what Ms. Banner did to Hills made me burst out laughing in my office when I thought real, sincere laughter was no longer in the cards for me. Or maybe I’m just tired and on the verge of a mental breakdown.
“Either way, her customer service was atrocious.” Hills throws his hands up. “You’d think a female mechanic would be gentle. She is a woman after all. I mean, you wouldn’t be able to tell under the baggy overalls, but it’s pretty clear by her face. Why waste all that pretty on such a bad attitude?”
My eyebrow jumps. “She’s pretty?”
Hills shrugs like he doesn’t want to admit it with words.
“Hm.” I rub my chin.
“Doesn’t matter what she looks like. She’s in the wrong profession. I wouldn’t trust her with your mother’s car. I wouldn’t trust her with any car.”
My mind snags on the word ‘trust’ and an idea flies right at me.
Trust.
Trust.
The franchise we acquired lost money the moment it was associated with Stinton Group. The franchise needs a shot in the arm. A total revamp of the brand.
My fingers flick my pen in a circle. The press would take a female mechanic and run with it. Feminist magazines, the ones that were throwing hate at Stinton Group, would be the first to line up and shake our hands.
We can get the ball rolling from there…
Hills stops pacing. “I know that look. You just thought of something.”
“Yes, I did.” I pounce out of my chair. “I’m going to need the marketing director.”
“Now?” Hills glances at his watch.
“Yes, now.” My eyebrows cinch together.
“Max, everyone’s at home. Work’s over.”
“Not for us.”
“By definition, it’s over for everyone. You’re the only crazy person who works until midnight every day.”
“Stinton Group is in a state of emergency. The marketing team is going to play a vital role in getting us out. There is no such thing as the work being over until we solve this crisis.”
He rolls his eyes. “So damn dramatic.”
I stalk past him, throw the door open and head to the elevator.
Hills hustles behind me, a phone to his ear and a stack of files pinned to his side with his elbow. “Yeah,” he’s saying on the phone, “yeah, he wants you in now. I don’t know why. Just get here.”
I shove the button for the elevator. Hills settles in beside me and cuts the phone. “You want to explain what this is all about?”
My jaw clenches and unclenches.
A female mechanic as the face of Stinton Group’s Auto Franchise.
The headline practically writes itself. I imagine the articles. The online buzz. The public chiming in with their opinions and shifting the focus away from Trevor’s sins to the shiny new queen of Stinton Group.
My heart is banging so loudly against my ribs it might as well be beating a drum.
Hills makes a dramatic moan. “Great. You’re doing it again.”
I turn swiftly to him. “Give me a report on the manager of that shop and all the employees. Specifically, that female employee who fixed my car. I want to know as much information as you can gather.”
His mouth tightens in disapproval.
“What?”
“So you’re not firing her?”
“No, I’m not.”
“But I told you—”
“I don’t care what you think about her. Just do it.”
Damn. When did I have to tiptoe around my executive assistant like this? When was the last time I gave an instruction and it was just followed?
Annoyed, I stomp out of the elevator.
“Where are you going?” Hills remains inside.
“Out. I’ll be back by the time the PR team gets here.” I level him a hard stare so he doesn’t think I’m kidding. “I better have all the information on her by the time I get back.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waves me away and the elevator closes around him.
I stalk past the security guard who greets me with a smile. “Mr. Stinton.”
I double back and give him a tight-lipped nod. “Mr. Kavinsky. How’s your wife?”
“Good. Good. Sorry to stop you. You look like you’re in a rush.”
I am, but I’m not going to tell him. He’s obviously got something to say.
Ruddy cheeks turning a little redder, he squirms. “I wanted to thank you. My wife appreciates the signed cookbooks you sent her. She’s a huge fan of Vanya Scott. Ever since her surgery, she hasn’t been able to eat the same things and it’s been hard on her. That cookbook made her eat again. Made her smile again.”
“I’m glad.”
His eyes twinkle as he leans closer. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have seen her, would you? Vanya Scott’s the only celebrity chef who doesn’t put her face out there. My wife’s dying to know.”
“Sorry.” My tone is clipped, but my smile is polite. “Can’t help you there.”
“Oh. Well…”
“Goodnight.”
“Night, Mr. Stinton.”
His stare lingers on my back as I walk away. Kavinsky’s wife was suffering from the same illness as my mother. The difference is, his wife survived.
I make a mental note to call Vanya sometime next week and get another cookbook from her. She cranks those best sellers out in record time and I know Kavinsky’s wife would appreciate it.
The parking lot is mostly empty when I arrive. My car is waiting right next to the door. I slip into the front seat. Try to imagine a female mechanic tinkering around in the hood. Smile when I picture the filming crew and the interviews.
You’re getting ahead of yourself, Stinton.
The car starts without a problem. Hauling on the stick shift, I tear out of the parking lot and take Black Beauty for a spin, keeping an eye out for any problems. There aren’t any. One female mechanic fixed a vehicle that the technicians at the dealership couldn’t.
My hands are shaking by the time I’ve returned to the company. I bound up the stairs and Hills is there in the lobby.
His eyes slide over my face. “I have bad news.”
“No.” I stalk past him and he gets into line behind me. Swiping my hand through the air, I tell him, “No bad news. I have a plan.”
“Dawn Banner seems familiar.”
“Hills, I have a plan.”
“I think she’s one of Trevor’s women.”
That stops me in my tracks. I turn slowly and eye him. My voice is a steely whisper when I say, “What?”
“Here.” He hands me a file. “I looked her up online and didn’t see much. When I dug deeper, I realized this woman is a ghost. No social media. No online presence. She doesn’t even have a profile on the auto company website. So I went looking through our database to find her employee information. I wanted to at least verify that she exists.” Nodding at the file, Hills frowns. “During my search, I found this.”
I flip the binder over. Dread fills me when I see what’s inside. It’s a handwritten note. My crab-like scrawl. A form that I fill out for all the personal matters involved with Stinton Group.
My jaw drops. “I don’t remember her.”
“I do. She’s the only one who threw the money back in our face.”
The dread turns to a pounding horror. “She didn’t accept?”
“You don’t remember by now?”
“The details are fuzzy. I can’t keep up with all of Trevor’s dalliances. There hasn’t been a problem before.”
“There still isn’t. She wasn’t a problem. After she rejected the money, she didn’t approach Stinton Group again.”
“What about the pregnancy? Do you know if she decided—”
“No, she disappeared. Went off grid.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” My eyes are hard.
“Your instructions. You said we wouldn’t bother her as long as she didn’t bother us.”
A pulse starts beating in my head. The fact that I might have a niece slaps me across the chest and flings clouds of doubt around my next steps.
Hills pats my back. “I hope your plan didn’t involve that girl because there’s a hundred percent chance she wants Stinton Group to crumble.”
“Didn’t ask for your opinion,” I bite out. My headache worsens. Who knew Trevor could ruin Stinton Group without even being around to cause havoc?
The weight of my responsibility feels like it’s dragging my feet into the ground. I snap the folder closed. “We’ll proceed with the plan.”
“I don’t know what the plan is, but I’m telling you it won’t work with this woman.”
“It’ll work,” I snap.
He stops and stares at me.
“Find out if she had the child.”
Hills’s eyes widen. “You’re not going there, are you?”
I stare blankly at him.
“You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”
Damn.
If even Hills is reeling back like a grandma clutching her pearls, then I know I’m crossing a line into morally bankrupt territory.
My best friend and I have a stare-off.
“Mr. Stinton.” The head of the marketing department steps out of the conference room and glances at me.
With a deep breath, I move forward. Over my shoulder, I command Hills, “Let me know when you have more information. We’ll proceed either way.”
“Stinton.” He drills a hole into my back.
I enter the conference room and take my place at the head of the table. Stinton Group is the reason I breathe. The reason I wake up in the morning. The reason I’ve put one foot in front of the other since mom died.
She wouldn’t be proud of you for this.
I ignore that voice and steeple my fingers. Glancing at each of my team members, I bark, “I have a plan. Let’s get to work.”
Morning comes far too early.
Especially when you fall asleep just before dawn.
I get ready for the day, dressing in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks. Nerves tighten in my stomach and I chase it away with too-hot coffee and a glance at the daily news, carefully avoiding anything that mentions Stinton Group’s plummeting stock prices or the latest in the police’s hunt for Trevor.
My phone rings in the quiet of my kitchen.
Dad.
Ice slides down my back like the cold tip of a spear. I clear my throat before answering. “Sir.”
“I heard you gathered the marketing team last night.”
At this point, I’m no longer surprised that dad’s so well-informed. He’s technically still CEO, although he’s no longer active in the company. He’s got his loyal spies everywhere.
“Yes, we’re taking a plan of action.”
“About time. Trevor’s name has been in the news too long. You should have taken care of it before now.”
I scowl, but I don’t respond. Dad isn’t asking for feedback and he wouldn’t want to hear my opinions anyway.
“Any word from him yet?” There’s a worried tinge in dad’s voice.
“No.”
“Try harder.”
“We’re doing everything we can. Trevor must have planned this long in advance. We can’t find a trace of him.”
“I can’t believe this.” Dad’s voice drops to a low hiss. “He didn’t tell you anything?”
I inhale a deep breath and let it out through my mouth. “Trevor did this all by himself.”
“If you were watching him more closely, it wouldn’t have gotten like this. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re responsible for your brother?”
My phone rings with another incoming call.
I frown. “Dad, I have to go.”
“I’m telling you, Max. You better find your brother before anyone else does. I don’t want the police getting their hands on him.”
“I know, dad. I’m worried too.”
It’s true. Whether he believes it or not. Trevor and I might have had two different experiences growing up in the Stinton family, but he’s still my brother. He’s blood. And, since mom died, I’m running out of the people I care about.
“Don’t disappoint me anymore, Max.”
I hang up on him and answer the other call, my voice tight. “This is Stinton.”
“Mr. Stinton, this is Peter Clint. I’m the manager of the Cross Road’s Auto Shop—”
“Mr. Clint.” I throw my coffee away and swipe my keys off the table.
“I’m calling to discuss what happened yesterday. I understand that you’ve arranged a meeting with Ms. Banner this morning.”
“Yes.” My tone has a distinct get to the point timbre.
“I don’t want to seem disrespectful, but if you have a problem with her, then I’d rather you go through me.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“Banner’s my best mechanic and without her, I quit.”
I pause on my way to my car.
“Mr. Stinton?”
“I’m here.”
“I only have a month left before I retire, but I’m holding on because I want to encourage Banner to take up the leadership role.”
“Is that what she wants?”
“Well…”
“What about the other employees?”
He clears his throat. “She’s the best for the job. I’ve never met anyone more passionate about auto mechanics. She spends her lunch breaks reading manuals and technical forums. She cares about the people who walk through the doors. No one else will do.”
“What’s your point, Mr. Clint?” I throw my briefcase in the car and climb in.
“I’m… well, I’ve heard of your reputation and I’m hoping you can have mercy just this once. She has a young daughter to take care of, you understand. I really don’t want to see her out in the cold.”
There it is. That twinge of guilt. It flashed through me last night when Hills sent over the information about Dawn Banner and her daughter—my niece—Elizabeth.
“I have no plans of firing Ms. Banner.”
“Oh… you don’t?”
“No. I won’t be firing anyone unless there’s just cause.” Stinton Group is already in hot water with the public. Massive layovers would sink our ship faster. I’m not trying to antagonize anyone else right now. “If that’s all, Mr. Clint, I’m very busy.”
I hang up and drive to the office.
Hills isn’t there. Typical.
But there’s someone in the lobby. She’s dressed in baggy grey over-alls and work boots. Her short hair is poofing up in an afro. Small and daintily built, the over-alls isn’t doing her any favors.
Could that be Dawn Banner?
I give her another critical sweep and start to doubt Hills’s eye for attractive women.
Until she turns around.
My breath hitches when I see her. Fine cheekbones press against skin gleaming like brown sugar and walnuts under warm and generous sunlight. The artful sweep of her brow arches perfectly over coffee-brown eyes that are lowered to half-mast in a kind of sultry, model squint. Her over-alls are open to show off the graceful curve of her neck, tempting my tongue to trace the line of her clavicle.
And her mouth—
Damn everything—her lips are a dream. A freaking focal point to a priceless work of art that gets more and more beautiful the longer you stare at it. My eyes are glued to the natural brown hues in her top lip and the pink of her bottom.
I don’t know if I haven’t noticed or if I just haven’t cared, but she’s the first woman I’ve seen with such luscious, dual-toned lips.
No. I’m not expecting this creature to be the mother of my niece. The woman my brother used and discarded. The woman who will save Stinton Group.
Dawn Banner marches right up to me, parts those dangerously overripe lips that could send a man to his grave early and hisses, “You have five minutes, Stinton. This better be good.”
I blink slowly. Then I get control of myself and slide a calm, lazy gaze over her. The over-alls convey exactly who she is and that she’s not ashamed of it. Intelligence sparks from her cutting brown eyes, eyes that swirl with anger and disgust for me.
Lord help me.
She’s stunning. She’s perfect.
I repress the urge to speak those words out loud and sweep my gaze to the elevator. “Why don’t we talk in my office?”
“Four minutes.”
“Dawn.”
“Ms. Banner.” Her eyes squint even farther.
It would be intimidating if she wasn’t such a tiny thing.
“This isn’t something we can discuss in public.” Stinton Group employees are filling in through the front door. They’re all staring at us.
I’m sure the rumor mill is already whipping up a story about Dawn and me. I bet they’ll paint me as the monster who screwed over the poor, helpless mechanic.
My horrible reputation doesn’t faze me at all. In fact, it comes in handy. Especially when I’m playing hardball with a company on the brink of a merger.
I turn sideways and speak in a low voice. “Or we can stay here and discuss the legal ramifications of what you did yesterday.”
“I did nothing—”
“Locking my assistant in a room and tampering with private property can at least get your license revoked.”
If she had lighter skin, it would probably be blotchy with stains of anger. As it stands, Ms. Banner pins me with a look so deadly that, had it been possible to kill with glares, I would be sprawled on the floor, choking on my own blood.
She purses her lips and looks up at me with that stunningly beautiful face. “Three minutes,” she murmurs. Then she stomps in the direction of the elevators.
In three giant strides, I’m beside her. Looking down at her afro, I can’t help my amusement. Tiny woman with so much anger. She shoots out waves of crackling fury the way atomic bombs fling uranium.
I know why she’s angry.
I also know that I’m why she’s angry. Or at least I’m a big part of it.
I shouldn’t be getting into close spaces with her. I shouldn’t be fighting back a smile. It’s the absolute worst response to this complex situation. But something about being beside her, being around all that raw, explosive energy makes my chest tighten in a strange way.
In the elevator, Dawn brushes her hair back and fiddles with her earring. It’s a giant comb with the words ‘AFRICA’ printed on the handle.
She catches me staring at her and scowls. “You know you’re almost out of time.”
“I don’t believe in rushing good things, Ms. Banner.”
She folds her arms over her chest. Taps her boots twice. Squirms as she tries to figure out what I meant by that.
My eyes snag on her shoes. They’re quite industrial. The yellowish-brown color is stylish, but the square shape reminds me of cement blocks. Hm. Should I keep the shoes for the photoshoot or put her in something more dainty?
The elevator opens and I step out.
Ms. Banner doesn’t.
Who knew she’d make this so entertaining?
“Your time is up.” She slams her dark fist against the button and the elevator doors start closing.
Unperturbed, I slide into the elevator with her just before the doors slam shut. Since she’s being difficult, it’s time to get creative. I hold her gaze, pull my phone out of my pocket and call the maintenance office.
“This is Max Stinton,” I say calmly, “I’m in elevator four. I’m going to hit the emergency stop button and I’d like you to ignore the alarm until I’m ready to move again.”
Dawn jumps and whirls on me with horrified eyes. “What are you doing?”
Turning in a fluid motion, I press my palm on the emergency stop button. The elevator jolts and the lights go dim for a moment before it slams to a stop.
Dawn stumbles and I grip her elbow, keeping her upright while the elevator settles. She brushes me off and storms to the other side of the elevator. It’s not that far. I can still smell the hint of her flowery perfume.
“I hope you’re not claustrophobic.” I arch an eyebrow. “Though, if you work underneath cars for a living, I’m assuming you’re not.”
“And I assumed you weren’t this big of a jerk,” she spits. “I guess that’s why we shouldn’t make assumptions.”
I smile because she means that insult with all her heart and it’s been a long time since I’ve been around anyone who wears their disdain on their sleeve. It’s refreshing.
She glares at me. “Let me out right now!”
“The elevator’s broken. It might take a while for them to fix it.”
Her nostrils flare and I expect her to run into me like a bull. Instead, she digs her fingers into the rails bracketed on either side of the elevator and squeezes tight. “What do you want, Stinton?”
“First, I’d like to thank you.”
Her eyes shoot to mine and shock overtakes the anger for a moment.
“That’s why I called yesterday.”
“This is how you show your appreciation? By locking people in elevators?”
“Isn’t that in line with locking people in customer lounges?” I tilt my head. “Should you of all people be throwing stones?”
She huffs and glances away.
“I give you permission to hate me.”
Her mouth hangs open. “Did you just say… you’re giving me permission? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“On paper, your boss.”
She snorts.
“I don’t need you to like me if we’re going to work together.”
“Holy crap. It’s like you want me to slap you.”
I pull my lips in. My entire body feels hot with… what is this strange form of exhilaration?
She barks out a humorless laugh. “I will never work with you.”
“On the contrary, you don’t have a choice.”
“Typical of a Stinton. You really think you’re a god, don’t you?”
I open my mouth.
“Let me make this as clear as possible. I quit. Right now. I’m not working with you. For you. Under you.”
An image of Dawn Banner under me in bed flashes through my mind and sends a jolt straight to my pants.
What the hell?
“Now that that’s settled. Let me out.”
“I’m not finished yet.”
“Yes, this is done. I quit. You’re not the boss anymore. This is now a hostage kidnapping.”
The laughter is quick to bubble up in my chest. “I still have something to discuss with you.”
“And I have a long and blissful habit of not giving a damn. So open this door and let’s never see each other again.”
“I can’t do that.”
She folds her arms over her chest.
The little spitfire.
I’ve never seen someone so small burn with so much animosity.
She glares. “Why? Why do you suddenly want to bother me?”
“Because Stinton Group just took over the Cross Road Auto franchise…”
“That has nothing to do with me and frankly—”
“… And I want you to be the face of it.”
