Seducing My Ex's Father In Law

2

I rarely took initial client meetings anywhere else. When Renee had first told me about the appointment, I’d assumed I was being hired by a committee or a board of directors and that they’d requested to interview me as part of a general meeting of some sort. It made sense in that case to go to them rather than the other way around. But something about the vibe of the

situation made me start to doubt my first assessment. If there was an entire committee behind the closed doors, why had the man who greeted me said “him”? And wouldn’t I have heard voices or people noises when the door had briefly been open?

While I waited for Renee’s response, I pulled the client file from my bag and looked over the papers inside. The usual client questionnaire was on top, but unlike usual, it was completely blank. I flipped to the next page, a background report. I ordered these on any client I considered taking on, not so much as a safety precaution, but more out of flagrant curiosity. My best games had been inspired by skeletons of the past, and I never passed up an opportunity to play.

I had no intention of taking on this particular client, however. In fact, I was only meeting with him so I could turn him down. The reason was laid out in bold in the first line of his information sheet: Edward M. Fasbender, Owner and CEO of Accelecom.

I didn’t know much about Accelecom and even less about Edward Fasbender, but what I did know was that the hardball strategies of his London-based company were the primary reason Werner Media had never been able to penetrate the UK market. My father would be livid if I ever worked for his competitor, but he might be delighted to hear me tell him I’d rejected their offer. Proud, even.

At least, I hoped he would be. God only knew why I cared so deeply to please the man, but I did. It was ingrained in me at an early age to cater to the men who held dominion over me. My father was the lord of our household. If I could make him happy, I was sure my mother would stop her eternal lamenting. If I could make him happy, maybe I could be happy.

It was a ridiculous notion, but it had deep roots inside me.

I scanned through the rest of the report on Fasbender. Married very young. Divorced for several years. Hadn’t remarried. Two nearly grown children. His father had also owned a media company that had been sold when Edward was a teen, just before both his parents had died. He’d built Accelecom from practically nothing, turning it into a multibillion-dollar company before he’d even turned forty-two, which would be in September. It was all pretty standard information, but with years of experience, it was enough to help me create a solid picture of what kind of man Edward M. Fasbender was. Driven, calculating, strategic, monomaniacal. His dating history was too sparse for him to be attractive. He likely had to pay for his

sex and didn’t mind doing so. Egocentric and misogynistic probably as well, if I knew this kind of man, and I did. It would be fun rejecting his offer of employment, as shallow as the move might be.

My cell buzzed.

RENEE: He insisted on meeting at the hotel. You approved that before. Is that still okay?

I’d been eager to be amenable, I remembered now. The more congenial I was in the outset, the more surprising the rejection.

It’s fine. Did he say what the project was going to be?

Something office related, I suspected, since there was a committee involved. Oh, that was going to be even more fun, turning him down in front of people.

RENEE: He said he’d only discuss it in person.

I added controlling to the list of character traits. And he definitely had a small d**k. There was no way this asshole was packing.

Before I could ask Renee anything else, the door to the meeting room opened and the man from before stepped out. “He’s ready for you now,” he said, again making it sound like Mr. Fasbender was alone.

I shut the file folder, but didn’t put it back in my bag, too eager and intrigued to bother with the hassle. I stood up and walked to the door of the Fontainebleau. As soon as I crossed over the threshold, I paused and frowned. Every time I’d been here in the past, the room had been set up with several round tables, banquet style. This time there was only one long boardroom type table, and though there were several chairs lined up around it, no one was sitting at them. My gaze swept the space and knocked into the one other person in the room—a man who appeared to be the same age the report had given for Fasbender.