Complete Me (The Stark Trilogy)

this might be a start.”
    Well, shit
.
    “Listen,” she says, and the airy quality is gone from her voice, replaced by something much more genuine. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. Blaine is a good friend and a client, and heabsolutely adores you. It goes without saying that Damien adores you. I feel terrible that my stupidity hurt you.”
    “I appreciate that,” I say. And then, because I really should have one wall that isn’t entirely covered with notes and code, “How about this afternoon? Maybe around four?”
    She agrees eagerly, and when I hang up, I see Lisa looking at me, her expression somewhere between smug and amused.
    “Ah,” I say with a grimace. “It is available right now, isn’t it?”
    She laughs. “We never did get that coffee. Come on. There’s a Starbucks on the corner. We can go over paperwork and do the ceremonial latte-based key transfer.”
    And just like that, I have an office. I’m not Damien Stark yet, but I’m on my way.

16
    To the CEO of Stark International—
    The CEO of Fairchild Development seeks an appointment this evening to discuss a possible merging of our interests.
    As Lisa gets our coffees, I reread my text and press send. Almost instantaneously, I get a reply.
    To the CEO of Fairchild Development—
    I look forward to whatever merger you have in mind.
    P.S. Congratulations on the office space.
    I grin, and am about to ask him how he knows that I got it when the door to the Starbucks opens and a skinny guy wearing earbuds bounces in carrying a vase full of daisies and other wild-flowers. My heart flutters because I am absolutely, positively certain those are for me. I don’t know how Damien knew that I took the property any more than how he knew where to find me. But this is Damien, and as far as I can tell, he has eyes everywhere.
    The delivery guy scans the room, his gaze stopping on me. For that matter, everyone’s eyes are now on me. The delivery guy glances down at a piece of paper, then boogies over. “Nikki Fairchild?”
    he asks, a little too loudly, presumably so he can hear his own voice over whatever he’s jamming to.
    “Thank you,” I say as he puts the flowers down and strolls out, shimmying in time to whatever tunes are blaring through his earbuds. Around me, the other customers flash quick smiles, then return to whatever they were doing. One girl, a few years older than me with a pixie face and fabulous auburn curls, mouths
nice
before turning back to the screenplay that is open on the table in front of her. I totally agree.
    “Wow,” Lisa says, sliding back into her seat.
    “Damien is all about the wow-factor,” I say with a grin. I pull out the card, then smile even broader when I read it.
    Tonight I’ll show you just how much a woman with her own business turns me on. Until then, imagine me, touching you. —D
    “So now that I’ve told half the world I have an office,” I say, “I guess we ought to do the paperwork.” She and I spend the next hour going over the lease and also over some basic business information that Lisa shares with her clients. She gives me a few recommendations for attorneys who can advise me about incorporation, but also concedes that I might just want to ask Damien.
    “Not to be crude,” she says. “But you’re sleeping with the best business resource around. Take advantage of it.”
    “Oh, I fully intend to,” I say, with just enough of a leer that we both start laughing.
Yeah
, I think,
Lisa and I are going to be friends
.
    As if to illustrate the point, she tells me that the restaurant two doors down has an amazing happy hour. “Want to check it out next week? You can tell me all about your first few daysamong the self-employed. Or, hell, drag along your roommate and we’ll talk about men. I’m engaged, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dish.”
    I laugh. “It’s a date.”
    “Excellent.” She stands and hooks her briefcase over her arm. “I’ve got to go meet a client. You walking back or hanging out?”
    “I’m going to finish my coffee and make some notes while all this is fresh in my mind,” I say, indicating the folio. I don’t tell her that I’m seriously considering a second coffee before I head back to the office. After last night—both the good and the bad—I’m operating on very little sleep.
    As soon as she leaves, I scoot my chair over a bit so that the walkway between my table and the next isn’t quite so crowded. As I do, I catch the eye of the auburn-haired