HARDWIRED (Ashton Irwin)

Chapter 2

The receptionist at Angelcom Venture Group gave me a questioning glance before leading me into the conference room at the end of the hall. I checked myself over, making sure nothing was grossly out of place. So far so good. I shrugged.

“Make yourself comfortable, Miss Hathaway. The rest of the group should be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, grateful the room was momentarily empty. I took a deep breath, trailing my fingers along the edge of the conference table until I reached a wall of windows overlooking Boston Harbor. Awe mingled with my growing anxiety In a moment I would be face-to-face with a handful of the city’s most wealthy and influential investors, and I felt so far out of my comfort zone, it just wasn’t funny. I took a deep breath and shook out my hands anxiously, wishing my body would relax a little.

“Erica?”

I spun around. A young man about my age, with bright red spikey hair, green eyes, and wearing an impressive three-piece suit, approached me. We shook hands.

“You must be Michael.”

“Please, call me Mikey.”

“Professor Horran has told me a lot about you, Mikey.”

“Don’t believe a word of it.” He laughed, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth contrasting with a tan that made me wonder how much time he actually spent in New England.

“All good things, I promise,” I lied.

“That’s good of him. I owe him one. This must be your first pitch?”

“Unmistakably.”

“You’ll do fine. Just remember, most of us were in your shoes at some point.”

I smiled and nodded, knowing the chances of Michael Clifford, heir to shipping magnate Daryl Clifford, pitching to anyone other than his father for a measly two million dollars were slim to none. Regardless, he was the reason I was here this morning, and I was thankful. Horran had known just the favor to pull.

“Help yourself. The pastries are amazing.” He gestured to the plentiful breakfast buffet along the wall.

The knot in my stomach disagreed. I needed to get a handle on my nerves. I couldn’t even stomach coffee this morning. “Thank you, I’m fine though.”

As the other investors trickled in, Mikey introduced me, and I did my best to make small talk, silently cursing Alli, my best friend, absentee business partner, and marketing go-to. She could make entertaining small talk with a can of soup, where I had little else on my mind beyond the facts and figures I was prepared to present, which wasn’t ideal for idle conversation with people I’d never met.

When people began to settle at the conference table, I positioned myself on the opposite side, organizing and scanning over my paperwork for the twentieth time. I located the clock on the wall across from me. I had less than twenty minutes to convince this small group of strangers that I was worth investing in.

The rumble of voices quieted, but when I looked to Mikey for the cue to start, he gestured to the empty center chair across from me. “We’re waiting for Irwin.”

Irwin?

The door flung open, and I forgot how to breathe. Holy shit.

In walked my mystery man—six feet of masculine glory—looking nothing like his suited colleagues. His black V-neck highlighted his sculpted shoulders and chest, and his worn out skinny jeans fit his physique like a dream. My skin grew tight at the thought of having those arms around me again, accidentally or otherwise.