Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(45)

“I want an omelet, too,” I pipe up.

“The omelet is for you,” Eric says. “I’m having the granola.”

“Oh. Well. Carry on.”

Bingley reads the order back to us and then puts it through to the hotel.

Before getting out of bed, I nudge Eric’s naked hip. “I thought you said you didn’t ever want to converse with your phone?”

“Don’t gloat,” he says. “I didn’t realize he could feed me.”

I head for the shower, smiling.





After my omelet, though, I find myself sitting down for a video chat with Eric’s brother. I’m dressed in a prim little suit and ready for the day. But when he appears on screen, I feel a flash of embarrassment, anyway.

This man recruited his brother to protect me in Hawaii. He did it as a favor to help me through my time of need. And then I jumped on his brother like a cat in heat. Several times. I wonder if blushing shows up on a video chat.

“Good morning,” Max says. “I need to talk to you for a quick second about Xian Smith.”

“Right,” I say with a sigh. “Really, Max? Take the meeting? Which of my long-time suppliers shall I cut from my docket in order to accommodate your curiosity?”

“I don’t care. Pick one.” His grin is as infuriating as his brother’s. It must be a family trait. “You’re doing this as a favor to me, but also for yourself.”

“He’s a components broker, right? I don’t need a middleman when I can deal directly with Chinese manufacturers.”

“I understand,” Max says with a nod. “But I’m working on a theory about Smith, and the more I learn about him, the better I can protect your company. What do you know about him?”

“Not much.” I try to remember what people have said. “And only gossip.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“He showed up at a Vegas conference two years ago, brokering cellular modems from small factories in Zhengzhou. People said his prices were unbeatable.”

“Go on.” Max scribbles something down on a legal pad.

“After that I heard he was trying to make connections in Taiwan and Vietnam. He was working the multi-source angle, helping manufacturers avoid Chinese imports during the tariff wars.”

“Okay.” Max adds to his notes. “So when you meet with him, please try to remember everything he asks you. What’s his angle? How is he offering to help you? Is he trying to compete on price, or on something else?”

“Fine.” I grumble. “He seemed to know that I’m scrambling to source my new device. ‘Your new toy,’ he called it.”

“That’s an open secret, though? You’ve been talking to suppliers for weeks already. And he’s well connected.”

“Obviously. It’s going to be a short meeting, though. This launch is too important for me to try a new supplier.”

“I know. But do me a favor? Play dumb. Pump him for information about what he can offer.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll do your dirty work. Is there anything else I can do for you Max? Spy on anyone else? Bring you a sandwich?”

He laughs. “Thanks, but I have people for that. And I’m very particular about my sandwiches.”

“Of course you are.”

“Oh—there is one small thing you can do for me. Tell my brother to stop mooning the pillow cam whenever he’s alone in the suite.”

“He didn’t.” I clap a hand over my mouth.

“Oh, he does. Frequently.” Max shakes his head. “Tell him middle school is over. Find a new joke.”

“It’s my ass!” Eric yells from the other room. “I can shake it wherever I want.”

Max shakes his head. “Later, Alex. Good luck today.”

“Thanks, Max.” I give him a wave and disconnect our call.





It’s another long day of meetings, including a business lunch. Eight hours pass before I’m escorted back to the suite by Pieter and my assistant, Rolf, who’s yapping at my heels like a frustrated chihuahua. “We never called Pam in London. And I still need you to open DocuSign and authorize the quarterlies.”

“Later,” I say as the lock clicks to green and I push into the suite. “I need a snack, and then I have to get ready.” And I’m just so tired, suddenly. What I really need is a nap. But that’s not going to happen.

“Well, fine,” Rolf says from the hallway. “You don’t call, you don’t text. You don’t send flowers!”

“I love you Rolf. Now go away.”

“That’s what they all say.” He sighs heavily as I shut the door.

When I turn around, it’s as if I’ve stumbled into a fraternity house. The TV is on, tuned to sports news. There are dirty plates on the coffee table beside an empty protein drink container. And there’s rock music blaring from a speaker somewhere.

I locate Eric on the rug, wearing nothing but a bathing suit. He’s doing push-ups.

“Hi, honey I’m home,” I say to his very well-formed backside.

“Thirty-four. Thirty-five. Thirty-six…”

“The dinner starts in an hour.”

“Thirty-seven…” There’s a grunt and a pause. “Thirty-eight…”