Claim Me: A Novel

beintimate—just our friends who know that it’s me up there on Damien’s wall—but then Damien is opening the third floor to a whole slew of Blaine’s clients.
    A voice filters out from behind the still-closed door. “I said ‘come in,’ already.”
    Bruce pushes the door open, and a blond man with a surfer’s tan and the air of a salesman looks up at us. His desk is buried under an array of papers, and probably twice as many sheets are splayed out across the floor. He looks up at us and smiles widely. I know I should wait until I have more to go on, but I instinctively do not like this man.
    “Bruce!” he says, his voice full of friendly bluster. “Just got off the phone with Phil. He’s sending up the information on the Continental Mortgage proposal. I’ll make sure he stays on top of it.”
    “Sounds good,” Bruce says, but I have the feeling he’s only half-listening. “Tanner, this is Nikki.”
    Tanner’s smile grows even wider and for an odd second I feel as though I’m looking at a mirror of myself. That’s not a real smile any more than my practiced pageant smile. Or any more than the Social Nikki smile I paste on right now.
    “We’ve all heard a lot about you,” Tanner says. “Everyone’s been eager to meet the flavor of the month.” He half-laughs as his eyes dart to Bruce. “So welcome aboard and all that.”
    I meet Tanner’s eyes and deliberately let my smile grow wider. “I’ll try to live up to expectations.” I shift just enough so that I’m looking at both men, then I pull out all the stops, dazzling them with my “what I really want is world peace” pageant-perfect smile.
    “I’m sure you will,” Bruce says. “We’re thrilled you’ve joined the team.” The sincerity in his tone is unmistakable, and I can tell by the look on Tanner’s face that he realizes it, too.
    “We really should get going,” Tanner says, then grabs a messy sheaf of papers off his desk and shoves them into a leather messenger bag.
    “Here.” Bruce hands me a notebook with
Suncoast
embossed on the cover. “You can bone up on the specs during the drive.”
    He tells us that he needs to go prep for his own meeting, promises me we’ll do our first-day lunch on Monday, then wishes us luck. Before I know it I’m standing in front of the elevator with Tanner beside me. And, yes, I’m a little nervous. Sure, I can do this job. I understand encryption algorithms and I’m more than capable of presenting a good company face to a client. It’s not my skill that’s bothering me. It’s the fact that I’m standing next to a man who, for some inexplicable reason, seems to despise me.
    Bruce may not have noticed, but I’m certain I didn’t misread Tanner. Suddenly I feel a little sick to my stomach. And that queasiness turns into downright nausea when we step onto the elevator and he leans against the far wall, his eyes on me and his lip curled up as if he’s just seen something gross in the road.
    I look away, intending to ignore it, but I stop, because suddenly I’m thinking of Damien. To say that he’s the most successful businessman I know would be an understatement. So what would Damien do when faced with a recalcitrant, disrespectful colleague? Would he turn away and pretend to ignore it?
    For that matter, if Nikki Fairchild met up with some backbiting bitch under social circumstances, would she ignore it?
    She would not.
    I may be well-practiced in not showing my true face to most of the world, but even Social Nikki wouldn’t stand for this kind of shit. Neither would Damien Stark.
    And neither will Business Nikki.
    I press the emergency stop button, then take a step closer toTanner. I’m not enjoying the proximity, but I deliberately put myself in his personal space. The sneer fades, and he actually looks a little uncomfortable.
    “Do you have a problem?” I ask, ignoring the bell that’s now ringing at annoyingly regular intervals.
    His lips thin, and he pales a bit under the tan. For a second I think that this is it. I’ve made my point and won the alpha dog title.
    Then he opens his mouth, and I see his color return. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re my problem.”
    I force myself to stay where I’m standing. At least now it’s out in the open. “Me? You mean working together?”
    “Working together?
Together?
Is that what you call it?”
    “At the moment, no,” I admit. “I don’t think this is working at all.”
    “We’re not working
together
,” he says,