THE MITUS TOUCH: Book One of The Touch Series Read online

  Brigit and Shaniqua exchanged smiles. “Okay, Monica, open your eyes,” Brigit said.

  Her hazel eyes popped open. “Aw, they’re so pretty and so pink!”

  “Happy birthday, honey.” Brigit ran her fingers down Monica’s sleek black hair, then slipped back into her seat. “Make a wish.”

  The birthday girl heaved in a giant breath and blew out the candles.

  “They’re almost too perfect to eat,” Shaniqua said. “Operative word being almost.”

  Brigit poured coffee and they dug in.

  “Colton Mitus and Dez Livingston seemed nice.” Shaniqua trickled cream into her mug.

  Brigit cringed. She did not want to discuss that man in her home. “Did you tip them off to happy hour yesterday?”

  “I preach stranger danger to Monica. Do you think I’d tell a prospective client where you hang out after work on Fridays?” Shaniqua nibbled a pink frosting petal.

  “Of course not. My bad.”

  “If Seth didn’t squeal, it must have been Kaleb,” said Shaniqua. “That man cannot keep his mouth shut. So, Colton showed at up at Sullivan’s? Gotta love a man who goes after what he wants.”

  “Is he hot?” Monica asked.

  Washing down the bite of cupcake with coffee, Brigit shook her head. “No, definitely not—”

  “Oh, yeah,” Shaniqua said. “And successful, too.”

  “Enough, you’re killing me!” Biting back the smile, Brigit headed into her kitchen.

  Shaniqua laughed. “Could those two dress, or what? Did you see the diamond cufflinks on Dez?”

  Brigit grabbed an envelope off her counter, her checkbook from her drawer, and returned to the dining room. “How ‘bout we talk college? But first, presents!” She placed the envelope in front of the birthday girl and slipped back into her chair.

  As Monica opened the card, a check and a gift card slid out.

  “That check is for your—”

  “I know. Savings.” Monica hugged Brigit. “Thank you!” She flashed the Nordstrom gift card. “My favorite store.”

  Brigit opened her checkbook. “Since you’ve started applying to colleges, I’ll help with application fees.”

  Shaniqua shook her head. “You’re already doing too much by contributing to her college fund.”

  “Monica kept up her end of our deal. Now it’s my turn.” Brigit handed Shaniqua the check.

  A year before Brigit had met them, Monica’s dad, Harlan Hall, a twelve-year veteran of the Arlington County police force, had been killed in the line of duty. Mother and daughter fell on hard times. The once straight-A student lost her way and her failing grades reflected her grief. When Brigit learned of Monica’s interest in college, she offered to help fund her education if Monica could refocus her energies into schoolwork. The motivator had worked.

  Brigit patted Shaniqua’s hand, then said to Monica, “Let’s pack your edible bouquet to share with your friends.”

  “Thanks!” Monica said. “Are you coming to my party tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely, but I can’t stay too long. I have to prepare for a big presentation.”

  “For that handsome, intelligent, stylish dresser.” Shaniqua winked at her daughter.

  After goodbye hugs, Brigit cleaned up, then got busy analyzing Colton’s limping portfolio. She had one shot to blow him away and she was damn well going to do just that.

  On Mondays, if Brigit arrived at work by nine thirty, her week was off to a rousing start. But this Monday, her ass was firmly rooted in her office chair by seven. An hour later, Seth’s smug grin further spurred her moxie.

  After work, rather than eating a bowl of cereal or ordering carryout and drinking too much wine, she cooked a healthy meal and made a pot of coffee. She pored over her Mitus presentation until two in the morning, then began her workday again four hours later.

  While doing a run-through at home on Thursday evening, she received a text from Taylor Hathaway. How much time do you need for tomorrow’s presentation?

  Ninety minutes. Doesn’t include Q&A, she texted back.

  Colton has a late add.

  She harrumphed. “Figures. Time to eliminate the middleman.” She texted, Does Colton know how to use a phone?

  Five minutes later, his number lit up her cell phone. Though tempted to hit the red button and give him a taste of his own medicine, she needed to hear him ask for her help again, so she tapped the green one. “So, you can use a phone.” She spoke softly. “What a relief.”

  “No, someone had to dial it for me.” His quiet, husky voice sent delicious tingles through her. She pressed the phone closer and their conversation turned intimate.

  “Why does that not surprise me?” She bent her knee and rested her bare foot on the dining room chair.

  “Confirming you need an hour and a half.”

  Her mind shorted. “Excuse me?”

  “Tomorrow’s presentation, Brigit.” He paused. “What did you think I was talking about?”

  As her cheeks heated, she cleared her throat. “Of course. I like to be thorough, ensuring I cover your current holdings, your minimum requirements for growth and my recommendations for maximizing your returns ad infinitum.”

  His sharp inhale made her insides quiver. “Sounds comprehensive.”

  “You’ll want for nothing more.” She allowed an extra beat of silence. “I encourage questions, but please hold them until the end. Are you capable of taking notes?”

  “Are you being patronizing?”

  “Who? Me?”

  “Anything else?”

  “You tell me. You’re the one who called.”

  “Vonn Savage will pick you up at one. Does that work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Finally, we have agreement.” She could hear a brief smile in his voice. “Brigit, I need a SWOT analysis by tomorrow.”

  She rolled her eyes. That’ll take hours.

  “Do you know what that is?”

  “If I said no, would that eliminate my having to do it?”

  “Include strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats in your financial report.”

  “I don’t suppose refusing you is going to fly.”

  “Correct.”

  “Email me the details, unless you need a minion to do it, because, like cell phones, computers are beyond your technological abilities. See you tomorrow.”

  Chuckling, he ended the call.

  Brigit continued fine-tuning her presentation until the bing of an incoming email snagged her attention. Skimming his request, her temples throbbed. “Oh, no.” Colton needed information on MobiCom, Francesco’s biggest competitor. Was he severing his longtime association with her company and cozying up with the enemy?

  Dammit! I forgot to take Melvin the money for the additional shares of Francesco stock. After scribbling the check, she scooted outside to the corner mailbox. Being investigated for insider trading because she provided a prospective client with a SWOT analysis on the competition seemed far-fetched, but she wasn’t taking any chances when it came to Francesco. “There’s no way I’m failing my parents again.” She scurried inside and bolted the door. Her dad’s dying wish was that she make Francesco her own.

  I’m going to get our company back, Daddy. This time no one will stand in my way.

  At promptly one o’clock on Friday, Brigit’s doorbell rang.

  “Good day, ma’am. Vonn Savage, Mitus Conglomerate. May I take your bags?”

  Sporting a crew cut and bulging muscles that stretched against his black suit, Vonn placed her bags into the trunk of the Bentley. He held open the back door of the silver luxury vehicle while she slipped inside. Mr. Fancy Pants is going all out.

  Once settled into the driver’s seat, he asked, “Would you like music, Miss Farnay?”

  “Please call me Brigit. Frank Sinatra or Michael Bublé would be great.”

  Within seconds, the timeless crooning of Ol’ Blue Eyes surrounded her. She could hear her mom—Sit tall, Eve—so she sat upright, l
eaned against the plush leather seat and smoothed the creases on her winter white suit.

  Fiddling with the silver Yurman bracelet clinging to her wrist, bittersweet memories came racing back. The sentimental piece had been the last birthday gift from her parents. A constant reminder of a life she’d loved and lost.

  As the car weaved its way out of the city, the hustle and bustle of Georgetown disappeared, replaced by the tranquil drive along the tree-lined G.W. Parkway in Northern Virginia. The ride was less than forty minutes, but felt like an eternity. In the heart of Great Falls, Virginia, and nestled behind a private drive, sat fifty acres of prime real estate. Mitus Mansion, Colton’s impenetrable fortress, served as both his residence and his office.

  Years earlier, Eve’s numerous requests to meet with Colton went ignored, save for one dismissive email. Determined to speak with him, she’d hopped a plane to Dulles. Through the intercom at the compound gates, a woman had informed her that Mr. Mitus was unavailable. Rebuffed again, she left.

  Her phone buzzed and she fetched it from her handbag. It was her attorney. “Hello, Melvin.”

  “Brigit, you didn’t drop off your check. You okay?”

  She’d stayed up half the night working on a detailed analysis of Francesco’s biggest rival and was headed to Mitus Conglomerate to interview for a job she didn’t want. Of course she wasn’t okay. “The week got away from me, so I mailed the check.”

  “I have some disturbing news. Do you have a moment?”

  “I can’t speak freely.”

  Vonn activated the privacy shield. Though appreciative of his professionalism, she wasn’t going to divulge anything.

  “MobiCom—Francesco’s rival—is headquartered in nearby Reston.”

  This can’t be good. “Yes, I know.”

  “Their legal team reached out to me.”

  Heat blasted her body and she cracked open the window. “Why?”

  “They expressed interest in retaining my services for an acquisition team they’re putting together.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “They want Francesco.”

  Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “What did you tell them?”

  “Full schedule, so I passed. Aside from the fact that I think it’s a terrible idea, I’m not dropping you as my client. I’m sorry this is happening.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck. “Me, too.”

  “Francesco’s sputtering stock isn’t helping,” Melvin said. “If the companies merge, they could buy you out of your shares and that’ll be the end of that.”

  Her head throbbed as the Bentley pulled up to the Mitus compound. “Thank you for your loyalty, Melvin.” She hung up, silenced her phone and shoved it into her handbag. This cannot be happening.

  The giant gold M in the center of the gate split as the wrought iron swung open. After Vonn drove through, she spun around in time to see the metal clang shut like a prison cell door. Her hands grew clammy. To calm her anxiety, she silently recited her favorite childhood poem. The one she knew word-for-word before she’d learned to read. With Blankie in tow, she’d snuggle in mommy or daddy’s lap and ask for Mary Howitt’s spider story.

  “Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,

  ’Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;

  The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,

  And I have many curious things to show you when you are there.”

  “Oh no, no,” said the Fly, “to ask me is in vain;

  For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again.”

  I’ll never ever be that fly, she’d proudly proclaim.

  The long-awaited invitation into Colton’s inner sanctum didn’t feel like a milestone and she gobbled down several nervous breaths. Her skills were being used to help the enemy undermine her six-year-old goal. Was she about to derail her chances of ever getting her company back?

  8

  The Silk Blanket

  The Bentley rolled forward as the lush canopy of autumnal leaves swayed in the cool breeze. Were the giant oak branches waving her in or shooing her away?

  The expansive Mitus property and picturesque setting reminded Brigit of the beautiful Virginia horse country with its scenic views and soft, rolling hills. A manicured lawn boasted several exquisite gardens. As the car rounded the bend, she gasped. Tucked at the end of the long, curvy driveway loomed his breathtaking mansion. The horseshoe-shaped brick house had several front-facing windows and two large turrets. Impressive.

  Vonn parked at the circle, near the bubbling fountain and topiary garden. On cue, the French doors swung open and Taylor, dressed in a chic black pantsuit with a vibrant scarf, emerged.

  As soon as Vonn opened Brigit’s door, she stepped out. “Th-thank you for the ride, V-Vonn.” Her teeth chattered from the chill within. Get your shit together. You have one shot.

  After taking Brigit’s laptop bag from Vonn, Taylor slid her hand into the crook of Brigit’s arm and ushered her inside. The warm air mixed with the homey aroma of just-baked chocolate chip cookies reminded her of fun Saturday afternoons spent baking with her mom. But Samantha Francesco was long gone. That thought knocked the nostalgia right out of her.

  A life-size sculpture of Michelangelo’s “David” stood in the foyer alcove at the foot of the regal, curving staircase. But this David wore an eye patch and a black cloak while a black skirt covered his groin.

  “Meet David, our Halloween pirate. We dress him for holidays.” Taylor stepped close and whispered, “Even though Colton’s not a fan.”

  Whimsical costume aside, the statue was a stunning replica. The living room mirrored a beautiful layout from Elegant Homes magazine. The burning logs in the ornate white marble fireplace crackled and spit embers onto the hearth. In the center of the room, two massive cream sofas flanked a large coffee table with a pair of expensive-looking seventeenth century French vases. Bay windows, facing the front of the property, were draped with handsome burgundy and gold window treatments. Making millions taking my company public had its advantages.

  “Vonn will take your overnight bag to the guest suite,” Taylor said. “Would you like coffee, tea, or sparkling water?”

  “Sparkling water, thanks.”

  “Colton is expecting you.” Taylor escorted Brigit down a hallway, past several doors until she reached the intimidating double doors at the end.

  Brigit took her computer bag from Taylor and heaved in a lung-filling breath. Time to rock this.

  Taylor knocked.

  “Enter,” Colton replied.

  Brigit’s heart picked up speed.

  “Good luck.” Taylor pushed opened the door, and with a sweep of her hand motioned Brigit forward.

  She walked in and Taylor shut the door behind her.

  The large, masculine room with deep brown paneled walls, ceiling and flooring was brightened by a wall of windows with French doors that faced the back of the property. Beyond the shiny mahogany floor lay an immaculate Persian rug. A conference table filled the far corner and a formal sitting area stood in the center, but the reason for her visit loomed larger than life behind his stately antiqued desk.

  Colton.

  She’d stepped into his world and the magnitude of his power hit her with gale force. This formidable man overshadowed everything in that space. With his eyes locked on hers, he rounded his desk with a confident stride.

  Charisma, fortitude, and so much sex appeal oozed from his every pore. The midnight blue tailored suit, stark white dress shirt and navy blue power tie complemented his solid frame, but it was his charming smile and mussed hair that ignited her insides and set her heart aflutter.

  “Colton.” This time she initiated a strong handshake. His large, warm hand boosted her confidence and settled her butterflies. I can do this.

  “Brigit.” He spoke her name with the gentle fluidity of cool water burbling down a stream. With his unwavering gaze, he continued. “Besides sparkling water, can we get you a
nything?”

  He had been watching her. “Do you spy on everyone or is this special treatment reserved for guests?”

  “Special guests,” he murmured and a shadow fell over his eyes.

  Her cheeks warmed. As much as she loathed him, it excited her that he’d been watching. Then she’d been invisible. Now he couldn’t look away.

  He lifted her computer bag from her shoulder and with a light grip on the back of her arm, guided her to his conference table. A few easy steps and she was ready. After picking up the remote and ensuring Colton had a clear view of the presentation on the screen behind her, she zeroed in on his stormy, mysterious eyes. This is it. Wish me luck, Mom and Dad.

  She spoke deliberately, but not too slowly. She smiled, but not too big or too frequently. She injected humor, but not too much. She knew when to pause and when to speed up, based on reading his body language. She was succinct and yet full of knowledge about the businesses to which she was now privy.

  Her recommendations were focused on expanding his empire, taking him in new, exciting directions while protecting the vast wealth he’d created. She’d memorized her presentation and her performance was impeccable. Though Colton glanced at the screen, he stayed focused on confident, poised Brigit Farnay, who weaved a lovely silk blanket around him.

  An hour and a half later, she was done, for better or for worse. She eased into the chair next to him and poured a glass of sparkling water. Relief washed over her as the bubbly liquid soothed her parched throat.

  “In summary, you have a robust and diverse portfolio.” She set down the glass. “As I discussed, there are numerous ways to significantly and positively impact your business, thereby increasing your profits. You won’t benefit from real financial gain until the losses are managed and your portfolio streamlined. The strategies I outlined are the best, most practical and fastest way to gain solid footing.” She closed her laptop. “Thank you for holding your questions. I can address them now.”