Knights of the Boardroom Read Free Page A

what they needed. Most of the ones he’d met had waited years before trying again and some had simply settled into mundane vanilla lives that bored them to distraction. “Stop her. Give me five, then escort her back.” Anyone who didn’t know Reis Stratham, AKA Dozer, might have missed his subtle nod of acknowledgment, but Tristan knew his second-in-command had heard him and would follow suit. Dozer had earned his nickname not only because of his intimidating size, but he was also as tenacious as anyone Tristan had ever met.
    Turning to the men standing beside him, Tristan smiled, “We don’t have long, here’s the plan.” He proceeded to outline his strategy, noting his friends eyes darkened with both concern and lust. Tristan knew it was an all or nothing proposal—not something he usually considered a blueprint for success, but there wasn’t enough time to debate the details—it was show time.

Chapter Two
     
     
    As usual, the Universe was conspiring to make her insane—the moment Cressi got up the courage to stand and walk out of The Knight’s Club, the hulk behind the counter informed her he’d be taking her back to Master T’s office in five minutes. Collapsing back onto the bench like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Cressi debated whether or not to just call it a day. But her blasted sister’s shocked expression kept playing through her mind. Good grief, it’s like she is on a continuous loop and it’s crazy-making. Dealing with Carli intermittently was enough to challenge the Pope, but to have her haunting Cressi’s daydreams was enough to push her right down the path to the cracker factory.
    She could still hear her sister saying, “If you don’t try you’ll never know if you can be what they’ll expect you to be.” Cressi had tried to play dumb, giving her older sister the most baffled expression she could manage, but it hadn’t worked. “Don’t even try that faux innocent conneries with me.” At least Carli’s slip into French had earned her a legitimate look of confusion—“Sorry, bullshit. Your first dufus look was phony, and why the hell didn’t you take French in high school and college instead of Spanish?”
    That was easy to answer, because she didn’t have her sister’s flawless features and the chances of her modeling haute couture had been absolutely zilch, so French had seemed an unnecessary challenge at the time. Oh sure, they were occasionally mistaken for one another but not by anyone who was really paying attention—after all Carli was several inches taller and flip-flapping perfect. And pushy. And perfect. And cultured. And immediately becomes best friends with every camera she meets. And perfect. Did I mention perfect? And there was that treacherous inner voice mimicking her father—again. Carli had been the golden child even before their mom died, but after Calinda Walker succumbed to cancer, Carli had been elevated to the status of Saint. Thankfully her sister had used her position of power in their family to help her younger sister because for all intents and purposes, Brandon Walker had ignored his youngest daughter as much as possible. Cressi understood why—at least she understood on an intellectual level, but it had still hurt. After all, it wasn’t her fault her personality was so much like her mother’s—or that, as the youngest, she’d always been her mother’s ‘baby’. She’d never fully understood why he hated her so much—it wasn’t as if she had given her mother cancer, after all, she’d been little more than a toddler when her mother died. But in the end, Cressida knew she was a walking-talking reminder of everything he’d lost, and Brandon Walker had never accepted losing well.
    When Cressi realized the giant man from behind the desk was now standing in front of her, she quickly blinked back the tears she hadn’t realized filled her eyes as she followed him down the hall. Right or wrong, she was at least going to ask her