Home > Billionaire with Benefits (Romancelandia #2)(34)

Billionaire with Benefits (Romancelandia #2)(34)
Author: Anne Tenino

Ian huffed at him, narrowed his eyes, and met Tierney’s stare. “You know I’m not going to recommend their stupid radio system.”

Tierney’s hands clenched, but he forced his fists to stay at his sides, even though his heartbeat urged him to defend. Get physical. “So I can count on you to make sure Metropolitan will get everything it needs?”

Ian’s nostrils flared, and his voice got lower and rougher. “You can count on me to recommend you get what’s fair, and the best deal for everyone.”

“Yeah?” The pounding filled his skull now, goading Tierney to get right up in Ian’s face. “Not good enough. I’m here to get everything we can, fuck what’s fair for everyone else.”

Ian stepped away, shaking his head and leaving Tierney suddenly confused. Wait, weren’t they about to throw down?

“T, what the fuck, dude? You know how this shit works, why are you acting like this? I’m not your enemy, and you know goddamn well I’m not going to pass you deals under the table because we’re friends.”

“Well, I guess I need a better class of friend.”

Ian’s eyes widened, then his face went blank. Emotionless. “What you need is some class,” he said before walking out of the restroom.

Tierney stayed put another minute, heart slowing down. His muscles were shaky, and he felt dizzy. Man up. He needed to get back in there, fight the good fight, since he couldn’t count on Ian.

Why is everyone always abandoning me?

Tierney bitch-slapped insecurity. Whiny, teenage emotion. One he didn’t need right now, as it slowly dawned on him that he might have just done the unthinkable—let himself step over that line he barely maintained with Ian. The point of no return, where he’d pushed the guy too far, and would lose him forever.

Slamming out the door into the hall, he left that thought behind. It was the only way he’d survive this fucking day, to keep going and not think about consequences or ramifications. Thank fuck the pounding in his eardrums was so distracting.

He made his way back to the meeting, taking the stairs to the right floor—the elevator arrived, but it was too closed in. Everything seemed too small. The hall to the office was too narrow, but also too long, and the door into the reception area was too tight. He’d never fit through. Gotta do it, man. Just like earlier.

He turned the knob, took a deep breath, walked in—and there was Dalton, front and center. Piercingly blond head bent over something on his desk. He glanced up when Tierney choked on air, and the meeting of their eyes pinned them in place, both of them still, like they could make everything stop if they just didn’t move. Then Tierney wouldn’t have to find out what happened next, would he? He could just freeze here and this would be the end. No more of this bizarre life he’d chosen to live.

I want that.

But Dalton stood up, and time started moving again. He didn’t let Tierney look away as he walked around his desk and came over, keeping their gazes locked until he was right in front of him, close enough to ask quietly, “Are you all right?”

Tierney swallowed. “Of course I’m all right.”

“You look . . . pale. And sweaty.” He leaned even nearer. “And Ian’s angry.”

The heart drum started up again in his ears. “Christ, just stop,” Tierney whispered around gritted teeth.

Dalton frowned.

“I have this very important meeting to get through, and you’re going to do it again, aren’t you? Try to help me. Is it the same kind of help you gave me last time? Because I think it would pretty much out me if you sucked my dick right here.”

Dalton flipped back his bangs, mouth settling into a hard line. “I can promise you, I won’t offer you help anymore.” He turned and stalked off.

Tierney wanted to puke, because he’d fucking done it again. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I didn’t mean—”

“Tierney.” Andrea, Ian’s assistant director, poked her head out of the meeting room, face carefully neutral. She knew Ian was pissed, didn’t she? She was probably gloating inside. “Recess is over and we’re all waiting for you.”

That man had a lot of nerve.

Dalton sat at his desk after Tierney walked by—whispering “I didn’t mean it” as he passed—peering intently at (but not seeing) the report he’d been working on. A little shaky, a little disoriented, and very annoyed.

When Tierney had appeared in the doorway disheveled and pale, that insidious ache had started in Dalton’s heart. Then the man had opened his mouth and twisted Dalton all up inside.

Seriously, you need to give up on him. For both their sakes.

Ian had. Dalton could tell when his boss came back in to the meeting. Ian’s jaw had been set, and he’d nodded stiffly as he stopped at Dalton’s desk to say, “If T isn’t here in two minutes, we’re starting without him.” Totally unnecessary to say that, but Dalton got the message.

So. That’s that. He mentally dusted Tierney from his hands and focused on the report under his nose.

What was he doing again? Reading it or writing it?

And where was that yelling coming from?

The conference room. Dalton didn’t need to tiptoe up and put his ear to the door to know it was Tierney’s voice. He did, of course, because he couldn’t make out what was being said otherwise.

“—trying to suck money out of the grant to benefit your county in ways that have nothing to do with these requirements, and I’m not going to stand for any more of your unethical bullshit!”

Slam! Something hit a surface. A chair? A fist?

“What did you call me, boy?” That had to be one of the rural chiefs. His voice was strong, but not quite yelling. “I think you better take that back before you regret it. We all know the Marlyle County contract is up for bid next y—”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Tierney was nearly screaming “Bring it on, you overfed, undereducated motherfucker—”

Cringe. Okay, seriously, that was way over the top.

“—Keep threatening me! Prove to everyone how immoral your fiber is.”

Tierney was losing it. Dalton grasped the door handle, uncertain, fingers twitching. Waiting for Ian to save the day.

“Listen you half-baked, fancy-pants dog turd—” Dalton could picture the other poking at Tierney’s chest. “You better shut the fuck up now, or it’s not just you that’s gonna regret it.”

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