Time was my greatest enemy. Since leaving the building intended for the New York headquarters of Iconic, I was a mess. Perched at my kitchen island, I poured out my fourth glass of wine, finishing a second bottle with the help of my dearest friend, Jacqueline Jones. A pretty little brunette and about the only friend I had who'd survived the last ten years after university.

Together we'd plotted to conquer the world of men, and were well on our way. While my interests and talents resided in marketing and communications, Jacqueline had a head for numbers and was scaling her way through the stock exchange.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She lifted wine soaked eyes to me and I smiled. Jacqueline never had much of a head for alcohol, but God love her she did her damndest to keep up.

"Not much of a choice. The Board voted against me; the deal is done whether I want to or not. Having me sign is a mere formality and the unfortunate position of my pay grade." Between us, Tristan's document lay like a tombstone sealing my fate. I'd yet to bring myself to go cross-eyed over the terms and condition of the Iconic and Shade Enterprise merger. What was the point? I knew what they were almost chapter and verse. My bravado in his office had been nothing more than a glorified stall tactic. Nothing more.

Jacqueline swirled her chardonnay in her glass, lips pursed in a frown. "Pretty unfair, if you ask me."

When I'd come on as CEO of Iconic, I knew the company was in bad shape. A tough economic climate had punched holes in our hull like Morse code. I'd been given the wheel of a sinking ship and was asked to make her float.

And I had, for almost five years. But now, like the Titanic, we were taking on water and sinking by the head. The only way to save the company was to merge, and I knew it.

I sighed into my wine, and tried not to sulk. Sulking accomplished nothing but presaging wrinkles. "Such is life. But the merger is the least of my worries."

"What do you mean?"

I exhaled heavily, debating how deep into this I wanted to go, then decided if there was anyone I could open up to, it was her. Jacqueline kept quiet, letting me work through the mess of my thoughts without interruption, then remained quiet a good deal longer, piecing it all together.

"So, you don't want to get tangled up with him?"

"Want and should are two different beasts." I arched a brow at her. "I want him...I want him bad. In ways I don't remember wanting a man. Ever. But it would be messy, in light of the merger. Added to the fact that I just don't know if I can trust him. Or his motives."

"Well," she said after what felt like a decade. "It's no good to sit around and play the guessing game. You need to get the truth out of him yourself. In person."

"Just like that?" I snorted. "Just call him out on it? Balls to the wall sort of thing?"

Jacqueline's hazel eyes gleamed deviously. "Why not? Men aren't afraid to be blunt with each other, why should we have to mince words because we're the fairer sex? I say you tell him to meet you tonight. Dinner at say...Thebergé?"

The threads of Jacqueline's mischievousness took root in my mind and I felt the warm flush of thrill to accompany the warmth of wine. "They're impossible to get a reservation. I've been trying for months." I pointed out.

"Even for Tristan Shade's assistant?" She batted unassuming lashes with a giggle. "I am sure the owner would hand over his firstborn if Tristan asked him to."

"Shouldn't we meet behind closed doors?"

"That's what he'd want," Jacqueline countered with a wrinkle of her nose. "And expect. Your office, his office, wouldn't make a difference. It's safe. A meeting in public will throw him off balance. And puts you in the power seat. Which is where you need to be if you want to maintain control."

I worked it over in my mind and had to concede to her superior plotting and scheming. Raising my glass, I clinked it against hers. "Here's to women ruling the world."

Jacqueline lifted hers in toasting. "I'll drink to that."

***

True to her word, securing the last minute reservation hadn't been difficult under the guise of Mr. Shade's assistant. Firing the email, requesting him to join me for dinner, it took only twenty minutes for him to respond; first with a suggestion we relocate to his building and the second-when he realized I wasn't going to budge on the locale, to confirm he'd be there precisely at eight thirty.

I arrived mere moments ahead of him, and had just removed my coat and glanced over my shoulder Tristan was led to the table by the maître-d. His features were set in serious lines that should have made him look hard, intimidating, but not to me.

A current of excitement rippled in my belly as I saw his eyes, even if they were cold as silver bullets, shift almost imperceptibly over my body.

I'd gone for simple, classic black. A dress with a high neck, long sleeves and a hem that brushed just below my knees. But the back plunged low and deep, flirting with the dimpled edge at the base of my spine. A dramatic and bold little number that never failed to turn heads.

I'd scooped my hair into a chignon at my nape, leaving that long, pale expanse unobstructed so that the full impact could be appreciated.

"Mr. Shade." The maître-d pulled out my seat first, but was more interested in fawning over my dinner date. "We are so please to receive you this evening."

A flock moved around us, pouring water, setting down an assortment of steaming breads and spreads, handing over a wine list and menus.

He wore a new suit, this one a deep shade of sapphire that almost changed the silver of his eyes so that they flirted one the edge of blue. Within the tailored wool, I could see his shoulders were stiff, and that stiffness worked all the way up his neck and into his equally tense jaw.

He was uncomfortable. The noise. The bustle of the restaurant atmosphere. The clash of sounds and smells warring around us. Details I might never have noticed were it not for his rigid posture, the constant flicker of his eyes moving around me with apparent disapproval.

Pleased with the turn of events, I sipped leisurely from my sparkling water. I had intended to keep this dinner meeting brief, but now I thought perhaps I would stretch things out and enjoy a lavish meal at Tristan Shade's expense.

After all, if he wanted to buy me then I wasn't going to come cheap.

"We could have done this at my condo." When we were alone, or as alone as could be expected, Tristan adjusted the napkin on his lap, smoothing the crisp white linen with one fierce swipe. "I have a capable staff available around the clock for just this reason."

"I've always wanted to come here," I said with a flash of smug. "Tables are always booked. Dropping your name, it seems, opens quite a few doors."

Tristan set his jaw, wiggled a finger that had two waiters scampering to his side like sprinters breaking from the starting line.

"Bordeaux. I want your best bottle."

"Of course," the young waiter elegantly dressed in a crisp black suit bowed deeply, hands tucked behind his back. "We have a forty-seven Chateau Cheval Blanc. Absolutely stunning."

Tristan's jaw remained unnaturally tense. "It'll have to do."

"Testy, aren't we?" He glanced at me, disapproving. And I did my level best not to chuckle.

"Alright, Ms. Pierce. You have me here, and my undivided attention. What is so important that it couldn't wait until our morning meeting?"

Because I knew it would aggravate him further, I lingered over the menu, even though I already knew what I wanted to order-had known for the last three months that I'd fought and argued to try and get a toe in the door. But that didn't stop me from perusing, savouring my moment of triumph over the indomitable Mr. Shade.

When I heard him clear his throat, a subtle, disapproving sound, I set the menu down and beamed a bright, flawless smile meant to frustrate and dazzle.

"I got about three pages in when I realized my remaining doubts and hesitancies are not going to be assuaged by picking apart the legalise. I want to clear the air, set the record between us, once and for all."

When the swarm of waiters returned, Tristan paused our conversation long enough for us both to order.

"Such as?" He lifted the bottle of Bordeaux he'd approved from the sommelier, and poured, if only to get rid of one more person from hovering around our table.

Not the least bit afraid of carbs, I dove into the breadbasket, selected a fluffy white roll to dip into a little saucer of olive oil and balsamic. "Your motivations. With me. Your reputation precedes you, Tristan. I want you to spell it out, right now. What do you want?"

He glanced around us, a quick swipe of his eyes across the room and I could tell from the set of his features that he was less then pleased about having this conversation in the middle of busy restaurant. But, with the disapproval, I saw the burgeoning of amusement play across his lips. The kind of look I would see on my older brother's face when I was edging him out in a game of chess. Though he hated losing, he couldn't help but admire a game well played. Tristan, it appeared, was no different.

"I'm attracted to you. Very attracted. You know that, sensed that this afternoon."

"Yes."

"And you're attracted to me. Be honest," he added when I moved to deny the claim.

"Alright. I am. But I won't colour a working relationship with sex. It would be in poor taste for me to get into bed with the man responsible for pulling the rug out from under me."

"If not me, then who?" Tristan smiled as our appetizers were served. We'd ordered the same: sea scallops on a bed of creamy risotto. "I think you'll find your pool of potential candidates are few and far between. And I can offer something they can't."

"For instance?"

"Reassurances," he said. "You can't be seen with anyone considered beneath you, not if you want to maintain your respect and authority."

"I've never been the type to care about social conventions." I shrugged. "I do as I please, when I please."

"If that were true, a man would have to match you in skill and ambition to keep you interested. How long till you got bored with Johnny Next Door? A week? Perhaps month? No. He'd have to be accomplished. Driven, to catch your eye."

"Plenty of those in New York."

"Whom aren't married? Engaged? Otherwise entangled?" Starting to enjoy himself, Tristan angled in his seat, fingers drumming lightly against the tablecloth. "Perhaps a dozen or so prospects remain, but an accomplished man presents a new set of obstacles. With your family connections, your breeding, he wouldn't see you as anything more than stepping stone. So what is left for you?"

The supremely silken risotto was hard to swallow, and with it the bitter note of regret. He was right and a little too close to the mark, for my tastes. Thomas was the most recent in a lengthy line of disappointments. In his eyes, my only value had been a well-connected Senator father and the way I'd dangled oh so pretty from his arm; and had said as much when I'd caught him ball's deep in a waitress a my father's cocktail fundraiser.

That was almost three years ago.

"You'll never have to question me, or my motivations. I'm already wealthy, successful." Tristan shifted in his seat, moving his hands from the table as their entrée's were served. "You have nothing that I don't already have, and vice versa. We're at the top of our game, and the summit of our careers. I'm no more a threat to you then you are to me. And for once, it would be-refreshing, to enter into personal territory on equitable terms."

In my lap, my fingers curled tight. I felt the bite of my nails in my palm and welcomed the nip of pain. "So that's why you're poaching Iconic? To add me to your collection? A head to be mounted on your wall of conquests?"

"Don't insult yourself that way. Or me." His tone went sharp and what amusement had been there a moment ago was gone. "I meant what I said-the acquisition was about business. Business only. If my interests were purely sexual, I would have found one of a hundred other ways for us to cross paths." Reaching for the briefcase he'd brought with him, Tristan removed a leather dossier and handed it across the table.

I accepted it with a narrowed gaze, searching his face for some indication of what would be contained within. But, as usual, he gave nothing away.

Opening the snap closure, I turned to the first page of the enclosed document. He sat in silent study. I was acutely aware of his sharp, shrewd gaze, but he remained quiet, allowing me to read at my leisure between bites of tender filet.

"This goes back seven years," I said after a lengthy perusal, now finished my meal. "You've been tracking my company for all this time?"

"Yes." He lifted his glass to his lips, his half-eaten halibut whisked away by a white-gloved hand. "Long before it was yours, or before you were appointed CEO, rather. Iconic Communications belongs to your majority shareholder and founder, George Wyatt. Your predecessor."

The immediate lurch of disappointment was as much a surprise as it was a nuisance. I didn't know why the thought of Tristan's interests in Iconic preceding my placement there should have been such a...blow. But it was and I had to take a long drink of water of wash it all down.

"You said earlier that business and pleasure didn't have to be mutually exclusive. I assumed that meant-"

"I never said that I didn't want to get you into bed. My interests in your personally, however, have nothing to do with my professional interests in Iconic. It only sweetens circumstances."

"Why? Why me?" I asked after the waiter interrupted to reveal a decadent crème brulee-courtesy of the chef-that we hadn't ordered. Needing the comfort of sugar, I dove in.

"Because we're cut from the same cloth," Tristan answered, not at all interested in sampling the chef's offering. "You're a woman of devote focus and motivation. A thirst for success, for accomplishment is in your blood. As much a part of you as breath and bone. In ten years, you've climbed to the summit of communications, ahead of men who had superior credentials and powerful friends; all without relying on the influential weight of your father to pave what has otherwise been a trying and difficult road full of challenge and sacrifice. But you wanted to forge your path on your own, to earn accolades based on your own merit. I respect that, admire that."

Every word he said resonated with sincerity. Intensity and I was left with no other recourse but to believe him, even if I found the prospect of his admiration baffling. For all of my triumphs, they were pale shadows when compared to the glory of his meteoric rise.

"You know what it takes to succeed," he continued, "and you know what it costs you to keep it. Being the best demands commitment, determination and the absence of distractions. Relationships are impossible, frivolous friendships must be set aside. We are lost within the boundaries of the status quo leaving very little room for anything else. A challenge for any man, tantamount to hell for a woman. Yet you thrive. Even if you are lonely."