He took my hand and helped me out from the car. We stood together in the dim light spilling from my house. “Good night, Lauren. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
I shook my head and stifled a smile. “Okay.”
“Don’t sound so excited.” He grinned, and I caught a flash of dimple as he headed back to the driver’s side. “You’ll give me a big head.”
I couldn’t suppress my smile. “Good night.”
He smiled at me once more, then disappeared, reversing his beast of an electric car and speeding off into the night.
“Ms. Taylor?” Timmy called. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I called back.
The truth, however, was a little more complicated than that.
Chapter 4
The next day dragged. I looked at the clock and yawned. It was only one in the afternoon, but I was exhausted. Hannah had accosted me as soon as I’d walked through the door the previous night, wanting to hear all the details about my evening.
She’d been more than a little gleeful when I told her Gabe had driven me home and positively ecstatic when I’d told her we were having dinner. Worst of all, she’d made me promise to come home from the office by six, so she could pick out my clothes and do my makeup.
I groaned and pulled up my latest report. I usually approached my work with a single-minded concentration, but thoughts of Gabe kept blurring my focus. My nerves thrummed about dinner for several reasons, not the least of which was that I’d never been to dinner with a man I found so attractive.
I laughed and put my face in my hands. I was the twenty-five-year-old, independently wealthy CEO of a Silicon Valley biotech company, and I was petrified about having dinner with a handsome man—irrefutable evidence that I’d spent too much time at the lab. I could easily handle intense vetting from investors and government compliance agents, but a date?
I had no idea how to handle a date. Not with Gabriel Betts.
I made myself focus. I sorted data, analyzed the trends from our recent testing, and wrote a synopsis for my board meeting the following week. Then I reviewed routine documentation: human resources reports, materials reports, and security notes.
I paused when I went through the week’s visitor log. Clive Warren, it read. He’d signed in at ten that morning.
I buzzed down to the security office. “I have a record that a Mr. Warren was on site this morning,” I said, my nerves starting to thrum. “Do you know who he met with?”
“No, Ms. Taylor, I don’t. Our guards from this morning have already changed shifts.”
“Can you show me the feed from the security cameras so we can figure it out?”
A few moments later, I watched the video of Clive signing in. Paragon’s security protocol was highly regimented and fairly simple: guests had to sign in, present photo identification, sign a nondisclosure and consent agreement, and be accompanied to their destination by a security guard. Their whereabouts were filmed by various security cameras strategically placed throughout the building. No visitors were allowed into the labs, and no one was allowed into my private office.
On the tape, Clive showed his photo identification and signed the necessary paperwork. One of our security guards waited next to him.
“Who are you here to see, Mr. Warren?” the receptionist asked politely.
“I’m here to pick up some of my old board of director materials,” he said. “We’re updating my company’s board materials, and I thought they might be helpful.”
“Is Ms. Taylor expecting you?”
“No,” he said easily. “But the materials are mine. I left them here for the interim member who took over for me when I left the board last year. Ms. Taylor recently informed me the interim had been made a full member. He doesn’t need my ‘loaner’ materials anymore.”
His explanation sounded legitimate, but I still didn’t like it.
“Do you know where they might be?” The receptionist was being polite and deferential, which was appropriate. I’d trained the staff to have the utmost respect for our board members.
“The boardroom. There’s a cabinet in there where we kept our materials. Mine are in there. They should be clearly marked.”
“I’ll just send security to get them for you,” the receptionist said.
“That’s fine, but should I accompany him? So that he gets the correct set, and I can be on my way?”
“Of course.” She smiled warmly at him. She nodded at the guard, and they set off at once.
I continued to watch as Clive and the guard walked down the hall, and then I switched the feed so I could watch them in the boardroom. Clive showed the guard the cabinet where the materials were kept. The guard bent down, pulled out a box and a large binder, and the two of them headed back to the front of the building.
Back in the lobby, Clive quickly checked all the material.
“Is everything in order, Mr. Warren?” the receptionist asked.
“It’s perfect,” he said, smiling. I could finally see his face. He looked satisfied.
My stomach turned.
The tape went off, and I hustled down to the security office. “Come with me,” I said. Eddie, the on-site manager, furrowed his brow and followed me down to the front desk.
“Veronica,” I said, interrupting the receptionist. She put her call on hold and looked at me a little nervously. I didn’t often stop to chat. “I just watched the tape of Mr. Warren’s visit here today. Thank you for doing a great job. You followed our protocol perfectly.”
The worried look left her eyes. “Thank you.”
“And Eddie, the fact that we gave Mr. Warren his director materials was fine. That’s also within protocol. But from now on, I want you both to know that he is no longer welcome in this building without my express permission. Do you understand?”
They both nodded.
“He’s no longer on our board of directors, and he’s no longer a candidate for a business partnership with Paragon. So if he shows up, call me first. And don’t do him any favors. Not even coffee. He’s not even a candidate for coffee.”
I paced and fretted the rest of the afternoon, finally giving up on work and going home. There had to be a reason Clive had come to our site, and I didn’t believe for a second that it was just for his outdated board materials.
“Can you relax?” Hannah asked. She was using a curling iron on me, an exercise I found completely frivolous. “Seriously, stop fidgeting, or I’m going to singe you!”
I rolled my eyes as she ran her fingers carefully through my hair. “I don’t care about my hair. I care about my business.”
“You can let it go for one night.” She tried to soothe me. “Why don’t you just call Clive? Ask him why he came by without mentioning it to you?”
“I want to wait and think it through first. I feel like I’m missing something.” I watched in the mirror as Hannah finished with the curling iron and fanned my hair out around my shoulders. “That looks pretty. Thank you.”
She beamed at me in the mirror. “Now, for your dress.”
I started to fidget. “I wasn’t planning on getting very dressed up.”