Corporate Takeover: Part One, page 1
Contents
Title Page
The Fight
The Retreat
Makeovers
First Dates
About the Author
Samples
CORPORATE TAKEOVER: PART ONE
by Lyka Bloom
CORPORATE TAKEOVER: PART ONE
First Edition. February 11, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Lyka Bloom
Written by Lyka Bloom
www.LykaBloom.com
Emily was waiting for me in the kitchen, and already I could tell that the fight from the night before wasn't over. The heated argument had chilled into a silent, but no less intense, cold war, and I poured a cup of coffee while she sat on the stool pushed against the island, her legs bared as the hooked around the seat. She was wearing one of my blue button-ups I wore to work, and the tumble of chestnut hair that fell in languid curls onto her shoulders and down the front only added to the look that I always found attractive. It was probably not the time to tell her how pretty she looked, even without makeup to accentuate her fair skin, pale freckles set against it on her cheeks.
"Do you have to go in today?" I asked, trying to breach the silence in a neutral manner.
"No," she replied and fell silent again. She was giving me no opportunity to pursue a conversation further, which meant that she was simmering with the remnants of last night's fury.
The fight was about nothing, really, another flare-up that seemed built on my dismissive comment while focused on a football game. Before I knew it, the remote was in her hand and she was trying to shut off the TV with a violent shake of the control. She instead changed the channel, filling the room with a loud hiss of static as she navigated the channel away from the one needed for the cable to work, which only drove her deeper into her rage.
"Turn it off!" she screamed, throwing the remote at me. I caught it against my chest and obliged, and the room was suddenly silent, save for her rapid breath. Beneath her wine-colored sweater, I could see her small breasts heaving.
"Em," I began, but she stopped me before I could ask her what was wrong.
"Now you're listening, aren't you?"
"What's gotten into you?" I asked, and immediately regretted it.
"Into me? That's good, really great, Tom. Now that I can feel my blood pumping in my eyeballs, then you're listening. Do you even realize I've been talking to you for five minutes?"
"Sorry, Em, really. I was just watching the end of the game. What's wrong?"
"My mother's in the hospital again. I'm leaving day after tomorrow."
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. Is it the cancer again?"
"What do you care?" she asked with a sarcastic grin. Emily always ran hot-blooded, but this combination of grief and anger she was running on now meant that this had the makings for a real barn-burner. "You want to know what I'm really upset about?"
And this was the point I knew nothing I would say would defuse the situation. Silence wouldn't, either. I was working to find the least offensive thing I could imagine saying to my wife of five years when she ignored her own question to continue.
"What really burns me up is how fucking smug you look. You walk through life like it's one big parade being put on just for you. You only listen when you want to, your job is a fucking joke... If it weren't for me reminding you to be a little bit responsible, we'd be arguing in the dark while someone tacked an eviction notice on the door."
"Em..." I began, but it was hard to argue with her, not just when she was wound up like this, but because she wasn't entirely wrong.
I know I have my flaws, part of having come from some money. My parents died not long after I graduated college, leaving me on the board of directors for the company my father started. Honestly, I went to work most days, surfed the internet, maybe sat in on a meeting or two, then asked my assistant, Tanya, what she thought. Tanya was as intelligent as she was beautiful, and even her attempts to dress down and disguise her slim, athletic body were often for naught. I saw how she was treated by a lot of the men in the company, especially the older ones, and I tried my best to treat her as an equal at all times. I'd be lying if I said she hadn't caught me catching the odd glance or two when she bent over to collect something dropped from her desk, or when she leaned back in a stretching yawn to offer a glimpse at the curve of her breasts, but I did my best to be respectful.
Still, I was mostly an observer at my own company, and Emily knew it. She also knew that I was given to flights of fancy and daydreaming, and Emily seemed to have decided the way to wake me from those moments was with a sharp tongue.
It's not enough, I suppose, to give the woman you love everything she wants, at least when it comes to material possessions. She wanted, I knew, my attention, and I was eager to make her feel wanted and loved, but I somehow couldn't consistently do it.
"I wish you could get a glimpse of what it's like."
"What are you talking about?" I was firing back, now, ill-advised, but I'm no punching bag, either. "You have everything you could possibly want. You work at your little flower shop because you want to, not because you have to. And you won't let me hire someone to help you clean the house, but you don't do any cleaning, either."
"So I'm your maid, now, is that it?"
"No, of course not. That's not what I'm saying and you know it!"
"So I'm just being deliberately difficult? Another bitch for you to complain to your rich friends to? Another one of the girls who doesn't know how good she's got it with her rich husband?"
"Emily-"
"When I met you, I thought you were different. Despite all the money and all the privilege, I thought you knew what it meant to be a real person, but you're just as bad as all the rest of them. My mother was right about you, you know that?"
Emily's mother, probably back in the hospital due to her multiple cancer battles and one newly arisen, was no subject to argue over, so I kept my mouth shut.
"You think you're too above it all to even defend yourself, don't you?"
"No, Em, I just know how you are when you get like this."
"Like what?" she demanded, a challenge.
"Just, you know, emotional."
"Go on and say it, Tom. Tell me I'm acting just like a woman."
I sighed, closed my eyes, counted to ten.
"Why don't we both get some rest and discuss this in the morning," I said, keeping my voice level. "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry to hear about your mother. If there's something I can do, let me know."
She stood by the couch, looking down at me, and I could fairly see sparks dancing in her eyes. After a long moment between us spent in silence, she unfolded her arms and stormed up the steps, carrying the dark mood with her. I waited until I heard the bedroom door slam upstairs before I returned to the game, lowering the volume so she wouldn't hear.
And, now, here I was in the kitchen, watching her stare at me with eyes that begged me to make one small misstep to reignite the tempest from the night before.
"I should head to work," I said, a concession to at least acknowledge Emily before I left without a word.
"I'm sure you'll have so much to do today," she snarled.
I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and left.
Emily was gone by the time I arrived home from work, a welcome respite. The day had been its usual parade of non-events and a couple of minutes with Tanya to clarify a few of the upcoming board decisions, then home. I could feel the stress nestled between my shoulder blades and behind my temples. When I saw Emily's car gone, I was relieved. I still loved her, don't misunderstand, but every word passed between us felt like it was strained.
A note awaited me, one telling me what I'd already assumed. She was gone to be with her mother. She told me she hoped that, when she returned, we would be able to find more common ground. I agreed, and stole a beer from the fridge, kicking up my feet on the arm of the couch as I felt the stillness and quiet in my home.
I was startled out of the nap I felt coming on by my cell, a call from Tanya.
"Hey," I answered, finishing the last of my warming beer, heading for the kitchen for a second.
"Tom, glad I caught you. I think there's a really good opportunity for us, if you're willing to leave town for a couple of days."
"Is it the Japanese? I think Carl is really best at handling that. He speaks the language, at least."
"No, it's more social. Up your alley, really."
"Oh?" Now I was genuinely curious.
"It's a corporate retreat, some movers and shakers from all over. Some meetings, a lecture or two, lots of drinking and rubbing elbows."
She paused then, and I looked around the empty house. It would be nice to be away for bit, to think about my future with Emily and decide if it was worth a significant chunk of my fortune to simply be free of all the worry, no matter how much of my love for her remained.
"Tom?"
"Oh, sorry, Tanya. Sounds good. Make the arrangements. Anything I need to go in with? Are we trying to build any bridges in particular?"
"Nope, just bring your smiling face."
I really loved traveling by helicopter. It's not something most have access to, but I recommend it. There's a sense of possibility in a private copter unlike any other mode of transportation, save perhaps a boat at sea. Even that, though, is limited by the water upon which it rides. Here, in midair, I was able to look out the window and see the world flitting by, unencumbered by gravity or roads.
The retreat was an impre
I was met at the pad by a smart-looking woman, her dark hair pulled back in a French braid, wearing a charcoal business suit, complete with knee-length skirt.
"Mr. Compton," she said over the rush of the blades, ducking with me as I fetched my bags from the helicopter and hurried away from the spinning blades. "So happy to have you. My name is Laura, and I've been assigned to help you settle in."
"Nice to meet you," I said, doing my best to disguise my appreciation for her shapely legs scissoring beneath the tight skirt. Her ankles wobbled on the grassy lawn behind the building, matching black, and shiny, with wickedly tall heels. She looked businesslike, but with a hint of sexiness that made me wonder if the whole building might not be staffed by gorgeous women like Laura to appeal to a largely male clientele, or so I assumed.
"I think you'll enjoy your stay. You'll be in the West Wing, along with three others. The rooms have been pre-assigned, but I trust you'll find it to your liking. The East Wing is reserved for other guests, which you'll meet in time, but I hope you'll respect our desires to give you a personalized experience and allow us to do the same for our other guests."
"Of course," I said, hurrying to keep up. Even on those heels, she was setting quite a pace, and we were entering the main building before I knew it. The interior was marbled, a clutch of foliage and a tumbling waterfall in the center, the high ceilings echoing with the sound of water and softly playing music.
Laura led me to a check-in desk, where another bright-faced young woman, this one blond and smiling wide enough to dimple her cheeks, waited to hand me a keycard.
"Mr. Compton, welcome," she said, handing the plastic card over, forcing me to shift my hold on the bags to take it. As beautiful as the women greeting me were, I was looking around for a bellboy (or girl) to take my bags.
"Oh, one last thing," Laura said, drawing my attention back to her and the girl behind the desk, who had turned in such a way to show off a truly impressive bust. "You'll need this."
She bent and wrapped a silver bracelet around my left wrist, as thick as a watch band and just as thin. When it snapped into place, I felt a sting on the underside of my wrist and I hissed a little.
"Sorry," Laura said with an apologetic smile. "One size fit all. Sometimes it's a little snug."
The stinging sensation had passed, and I returned her pleasant smile.
"No, it's fine. So, where to next?" I turned my wrist over to examine the plain silver band now fixed there.
"This way, Mr. Compton," Laura said, leading me away from the counter, though I turned back to give the blond a little wave. I had never cheated on Emily, but being away from home, especially after such a fight, and surrounded by such incredible examples of feminine beauty, I was already entertaining the notion of a stolen tryst.
Laura led me to the West Wing of the building, through a glass door that opened with a wave of her keycard. I followed her into a lushly carpeted hallway decorated by oddly spaced tables topped by vases and plants that looked very real. It was like the interior of an upscale hotel, and an expensive one.
"Your room is on the end at the left," the lovely guide said, waving her card in front of the room and standing aside as I entered.
"Thank you," I said, glancing around the surprisingly spartan interior. There was a single bed, a nightstand beside it, an open closet with empty hangers on a rack and a small bathroom with a shower visible just beyond the door. A desk with writing implements, and a TV mounted on the wall with a dresser beneath completed the decor, and I turned back to her, dropping my bags in the center of the small room.
"I know it doesn't look like much," she said, as if reading my thoughts, "but you'll be collecting items to decorate your room with over the course of the weekend. If you have any questions, just give us a buzz."
"When does the socializing start?" I asked, sitting on the bed and giving it a bounce. The mattress was firm, but not uncomfortable.
"The orientation will be at seven tonight. If you're like me, you'll take the extra time to get some rest and freshen up before the real events begin."
"I think that sounds perfect."
"Have a good afternoon, Mr. Compton," she said and pulled the door closed behind her.
I spent a few minutes hanging my clothes, mostly casual with a suit thrown in for good measure, then kicked back on the small bed. I clicked on the TV and flipped through a few channels, unable to find the usual sports stations I was used to. Most of the offerings were shifting images of natural scenes, a home shipping channel that was showing off the latest winter fashions for women, and a channel apparently devoted to women's programming, the current show all about skin care.
I left the flatscreen on one of the nature channels and closed my eyes, drifting quickly into a deep nap.
It was hard to believe I'd been out for almost four hours, and I felt logy and unfocused, even as I showered and prepared for the evening's meet-and-greet. I hadn't thought to bring my own soap and shampoo, and found most of the items provided were sweet-smelling and aimed at feminine beauty. I'd used Emily's things in a pinch, so I didn't feel awkward or embarrassed by it, but I made a note to myself to travel into the nearest town later to get something more my style.
I pulled a sports coat over a simple blue tee and paired that with some dark slacks and casual loafers, looking dapper enough to impress but without the formality of an actual suit. I didn't think I would be overdressed, and I could always lose the coat later if that turned out to be the case.
I found that the door to the hallway was locked, even from the inside, and I had to wave my keycard over a glowing green panel to open it. Even in the hallway, I saw no other attendees, and made my way to the large center room where a pair of men were holding rocks glasses and chatting and laughing. I recognized one as Bill Sadler, the youthful head of a tech startup that had made a killing in mobile games. He waved as he saw me.
"Tom! Nice to see a familiar face!"
I shook his hand and nodded to his companion, a little younger than me, putting him somewhere in his early thirties, if I had to guess.
"This is Ryan Townes, from Altech," he said by way of introduction, and I shook Townes' hand with a firm grip as I'd been taught. I noticed each had a similar silver bracelet to my own.
"Good to meet you, Ryan," I said with my most charming smile. "Where do I get one of those drinks?"
"Scotch, Mr. Compton?" a voice asked from behind, and I turned to find a cute redhead, her hair styled in a neat bob, standing at my shoulder with a drink on a tray.
"That is some service," I grinned, admiring the taut ass of the server as she retired to a room behind the counter where I'd checked in. "Have you seen anyone else?"
"Only Ted from Compliance," Bill said. "The whole place has been surprisingly empty, aside from a few honeys like the one bringing us drinks."
"They don't seem to be hurting for hot numbers to staff the place," Ryan added, offering a smile to the blond behind the front desk.
"So, where are we going? I didn't see a conference room or anything."
"Not sure," Ryan said, "but as long as they keep bringing the drinks, I can wait all night to find out."
"No argument there," Ryan agreed, holding aloft his drink in a mock toast.
A click of heels on the marbled floors drew our attention to our hostess, Laura, who'd changed from her business attire into a flirty black-and-white dress that showed off her long legs and a hint of cleavage. Where before I had thought of her as very attractive, with her hair pulled up and her lips red and glistening, she was jaw-droppingly gorgeous.
"Shit," Ryan whispered appreciatively.
"Gentlemen, please follow me and we'll get started. I think you're going to find this evening to be an unforgettable one."
"If you're with us, I'm sure I will," Bill grinned, slipping an arm around Laura's waist, who ducked out of his grasp with practiced ease. I was always impressed by the ability of a woman to spurn a man and look angelic in doing so.
