His Billion-Dollar Dilemma

by Alexia Adams

  She ignored the urge to cover up her chest or check her appearance again. On a whim yesterday she’d gone shopping at lunchtime to buy something suitable for dancing with Simon, but had also ended up purchasing a kick-ass businesswoman suit. She’d checked out all of Simon’s female executives and the secretaries, and chosen something that would blend in with what they wore. In contrast to her normal wardrobe staples of brown, gray, and black, she’d gone with a fitted crimson dress that stopped two inches above her knee. With the matching jacket on, it was quite modest. She was too hot to wear the jacket, though, so the vee neckline revealed way more cleavage than she was used to showing. And the Louboutin shoes? Well, she had to buy them because the soles matched the dress.

  Was she a sellout for using her feminine wiles to get and keep the board’s attention while they listened to her drone on about ROIs and capital depreciation? Then she’d reasoned that men had the old boys’ club to help them get ahead. Her gender was only leveling the playing field.

  Sylvia’s head peeking around the door followed a light knock. “Simon asked me to give this to you,” the personal assistant said as she handed Helen a folded piece of paper. “They’ll be ready for you in five minutes. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “A glass of water would be fabulous,” she replied¸ her throat threatening to seize up.

  As Sylvia went off to fill her request, Helen opened the note. Simon’s bold scrawl took a minute to decipher.

  Rock their world like you’ve rocked mine.

  Reconsidering my career in piracy.

  Yours, Simon

  Seeing as the board had been meeting since nine this morning and it was almost five, Simon was probably bored out of his mind. She appreciated his efforts to reassure her.

  However, as he was the real reason she was so nervous, his note had the opposite effect. Yesterday he’d been out of the office all day, leaving her to perfect her pitch on her own. He’d telephoned around four to say he wasn’t going to make it back in time to escort her to the hotel, so he’d meet her there at seven.

  When he’d knocked on her room door exactly on time, dressed in a charcoal suit, snow-white shirt, and red tie, he’d looked so handsome she’d actually gasped. Fortunately, he’d been so busy taking in her black satin dress he hadn’t seemed to notice her audible appreciation.

  It had been one of those perfect dates depicted in romantic films. Neither of them brought up the reasons she was in New York, or the changes awaiting her back in San Francisco. Instead they’d had an enjoyable meal and discussed their favorite things and what they’d do if they had no responsibilities, discovering they both had a quirky interest in the countries along the ancient Silk Road.

  When the dancing had begun, at first she’d held herself so stiffly that she’d trodden on his toes more than once. All the ballroom lessons she’d forced David to accompany her to had seemed a waste of time. But once the music and the warmth of Simon’s hands eased her tension, they’d flowed around the floor as though they’d danced together for years, in spite of the significant difference in their heights. At the end of the evening, Simon walked her to her hotel room door, given her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and declined her invitation to enter.

  Obviously she wasn’t sexy enough to get him to bed her. Or was there something else holding him back? Didn’t matter. After this afternoon, she’d be back on a plane to San Francisco, out of his world.

  And still a virgin.

  Sylvia reappeared with two glasses of water, condensation dripping down the sides. Helen drained the first glass in one go, before drinking half of the second one.

  “Are you nervous?” Sylvia asked.

  “A little,” Helen answered honestly.

  “They’re mostly nice. There are one or two who can be a bit anal, but for the most part the board is pretty reasonable.”

  “Thanks.” Helen appreciated the effort to reassure her.

  “Your turn now, Ms. Winston,” a suit-clad minion announced through the open door.

  “Right. Wish me luck.” Helen squared her shoulders and prepared to do battle.

  …

  Simon took the opportunity a break in the presentations gave him to stretch his legs. His body was like a compressed spring, and sitting all day had only made the pressure worse. Last night, dancing and holding Helen against him had been the most exquisite torture. By the end of the evening he’d been battling a lust so strong he knew he didn’t have the strength to take things as slow as Helen needed. So instead, he’d taken his leave with a kiss on her cheek and headed for another cold shower.

  Now he had another dilemma. After lobbying his board to integrate rather than obliterate Bertram Industries, Helen wouldn’t have an official excuse to remain in New York. But the thought of letting her go churned his insides like a blender.

  Speaking of leaving… He glanced down at his phone still clutched in his hand. His mother had sent him an email earlier today that he didn’t know how to answer.

  Dear Simon,

  Your father has now moved out.

  The house is too large for me. Do you want it?

  Adele Lamont

  No “love, Mum,” just her name. The house held no special emotional attachment for him. Even thinking about it now, a chill swept through him, rather than a flood of warmth that would normally be expected when remembering one’s childhood home.

  He should go and see his mother, sit down with her and help her analyze her options. He sent an IM to his assistant to book a flight leaving tomorrow night. Could he convince Helen to join him? The warmth that should have come with thoughts of home engulfed him now.

  At that moment, the boardroom door opened and he caught his breath. Expecting Helen, he was stunned at first by the confident, sexy woman clad in red who stood in the doorway and took stock of the room and its occupants. When he realized the woman was Helen, his heart went into overdrive.

  Hot damn! The Valkyrie of their first meeting had gotten dressed up and returned to complete her conquest. And she seemed to have stunned the rest of the room as well. Even Gerald Hunter, in his late sixties, appeared mesmerized by her.

  She avoided his eyes and strode to the front of the room, waiting for everyone to take their seats. Simon found his way to his chair without ever taking his eyes off her. Had the whole demure virgin persona been a disguise to distract him? If so, it sure as hell had worked, because he’d only skimmed the recent reports on Bertram Industries, choosing instead to concentrate on the enigmatic chief engineer.

  When the room settled, Helen began her presentation, looking each board member in the eye, although she avoided his gaze. Her sexy voice was as much a lure to join her way of thinking as her well-thought-out words. Moths to a flame, and he was flying the fastest.

  At first she discussed the potential return on investment that could be achieved by investing capital in Bertram. It was most of what he’d read in her initial proposal in Russian River, with the addition of a few facts and figures she must have gleaned from his staff. Simon glanced around the room and saw a couple of heads nod in agreement. The rest were still determined to chop and dispose of the company rather than restructure.

  Helen must have sensed the lack of conviction, because she then transitioned into a discussion of how integrating Bertram into Lamont Holdings could bring the most benefit. She talked about the diversity of the staff skills and the ability of them to open up new ventures and increase profitability within their current portfolio. Simon leaned forward and scrutinized the figures and information she’d displayed on the screen. Impressive.

  When she opened the floor for questions it took a moment for most to regather their wits.

  “Ms. Winston,” John Cuthbert began, “this is all very good information, but it doesn’t address the quintessential problem with engineering firms. They inevitably run out of ideas. Is there anything exciting you are working on that has the potential to take the company out of mediocrity?”

  “Mr. Cuthbert,
I am so glad you asked that question.” The smile she sent the old man could have stopped his heart. It certainly sent Simon’s blood pressure through the roof. Mixed with the pure lust that ran through his veins was admiration that Helen had also researched the tycoons who made up his board.

  She opened a new presentation and ran through the basics of the aeronautic fuel cell idea she’d sketched out on the paper a couple of days ago.

  “And as you know, gentlemen, fuel costs are second only to staffing as the greatest expense in the airline industry. However, with current technology, the reduction in cargo space and weight increase of the fuel cells mitigate any savings. If we are able to develop this idea, which I stress is in its infancy, the ROI projections I presented earlier would be blown out of the sky, to use a bad analogy. Bertram would become a billion-dollar return.”

  She waited for the enormity of her words to sink in. “Are there any other questions?” The innocence of her statement was belied by the “go on, I dare you to challenge me” attitude she displayed. Simon was in awe.

  “Well, then, I thank you for your time.”

  With a final nod for the board, she locked eyes with him for the first time since entering the room. After flashing a megawatt smile in his direction, Helen sashayed out, leaving a roomful of stunned men in her wake.

  As the door clicked closed behind her, Gerald Hunter let out a long, noisy breath, which seemed to be the general consensus in the room. They’d all just been Helen’ed.

  …

  “Well done, Helen. That was fabulous,” Sylvia gushed as Helen returned on shaking legs to her temporary office. “I listened at the door—you were fantastic.”

  She sank into the desk chair. “Thanks. Thirty people desperate to keep their jobs are riding on the board making the right decision.”

  “I’m sure Simon will convince them if you haven’t,” Sylvia replied. “Oh, I haven’t booked a return flight for you. Did you want to leave tonight or tomorrow morning?”

  A yawning chasm opened inside Helen and sucked in her heart. “I’m not sure. I may go up to MIT and see my old professors. I can book my own flight home. I know you have enough to do, looking after Simon.”

  Sylvia gave her a knowing smile. “Speaking of the devil, I’ve got to go now. The board meeting should be finishing up in the next half hour and I have to make sure they’ve all got their cars waiting, and deal with any last-minute requests. They run multibillion-dollar empires, but can’t seem to get from point A to point B without someone to coordinate it for them.”

  “Too true. Thanks again for all your help.”

  “My pleasure. In fact my boyfriend asked me yesterday if I’d been fired. I don’t think I’ve been home two nights in a row before seven when Simon’s in town. Your being here has been great.”

  If Sylvia was hinting for a disclosure as to the nature of Helen’s relationship with Simon, then she was in for a disappointment. Because Helen had no idea if they even had one, or how to classify it if they did.

  “Simon works too hard. I hope you get to enjoy yourself more than he does,” Helen replied.

  “I only work late at the office when he’s in town. He travels a lot, so I can work from home or leave early on those days. But I’ve got to go now. I hope we get to meet again.” Sylvia waved farewell from the door.

  The adrenaline that had allowed her to stand in front of a group of men in a bright red dress that barely covered the essentials and challenge them to find fault with her reasoning was wearing off. That, plus the realization this could be the last time she saw Simon, left her drained. She folded her arms on her desk and rested her head on them.

  “Helen?” Simon’s deep voice broke through the light doze into which she’d fallen. She blinked a couple of times to relieve the dryness of having napped while wearing her contacts. She tried to read his emotions, but he had his robot face on. I have got to find that switch. He sat in the chair opposite the desk. His body language read business, not pleasure.

  “So, what did the board say?”

  He swallowed before answering. Never a good sign. “They were very impressed by your presentation. Gerald Hunter recommended I move you to New York and give you an executive position.”

  He waited for her reaction. The thought of being close to Simon on a daily basis held immense appeal. She reminded herself, though, that the reason she was in New York was to save her friends’ jobs.

  “What did they decide about Bertram Industries?”

  “Although you presented many valid points, the general consensus was that it was not the right time to change the way we operate. As well, with the company out on the West Coast, there was some concern about maintaining a consistent corporate profile.”

  Helen tried, really tried, not to take the decision personally. Maybe if she hadn’t been so distracted by Simon, if she’d presented personal profiles of the people she was trying to keep in employment, appealed to their hearts rather than their wallets, she would have been successful.

  “What else? I can tell you’re holding back.” If it was something about her, she’d rather hear it from Simon.

  He swallowed again, and when he met her gaze she could see pleading in his eyes. “They felt that you are the driving force with Bertram Industries. If you were to leave to start your own firm or go to a competitor, then the company would fail. They weren’t willing to risk money on your loyalty. I’m sorry, I know it’s not fair.”

  “Did they think I went through that presentation just for the fun of it? I’m dedicated to that company, to my colleagues. I’m not just going to up and leave.” Hurt, anger, resentment—they were a bubbling cauldron of bitterness in her stomach. How could Simon have let this happen?

  “People change, Helen. Circumstances change. Who’s to say that you won’t meet someone who lives on the opposite side of the country and move to be near him?” His voice softened and for a second she thought she saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. It was quickly replaced with his robot stare. He took a deep breath. “The board has made their decision.” Simon’s face was again impassive, showing no emotion or personal feelings.

  “What was the vote?”

  He hesitated so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. “Five for integration, six against.”

  “There were twelve people in the room. Why only eleven votes?”

  “I abstained.” He said it so quietly it took a minute for Helen to compute his statement.

  “What?” She leaped to her feet. “I’ve read your charter. Your vote counts for two in the event of a tie. If you’d have voted, it could have passed.” Putting her hands on the desk, she leaned forward to intensify her glare, hoping he’d shrivel into a worm.

  Simon held her gaze for a moment before wandering over to the window. He stared out at the busy Manhattan street for a couple of minutes before turning back to her.

  “I had to abstain. I’m too conflicted to make a rational decision. Any vote I made would have been a loss for me.”

  Helen moved to the front of the desk and perched her bottom on it.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Simon ran a hand over his face and then through his hair. “Helen, a week ago I flew into San Francisco on a routine business trip, knowing exactly what I wanted in life and what I hoped to accomplish. Then I met you. And from the first minute you challenged every aspect of my being and made me question what I really want. I don’t know where this thing between us is going, or even if you feel anything for me at all. But I can’t jeopardize the future of my company, violate my fiduciary duty to my shareholders, to save a relationship that I’m not even certain is there.

  “Consider my position. If I voted against the integration, then you’d hate me. If I voted for your proposal, then you’d go back to San Francisco and I’d see you only once a year or so when my business took me out there, or you found a reason to come to New York. I’d also be your boss and pursuing any personal relationship with you would be unacceptable. You may thin
k me a lot of things, but I won’t be a hypocrite. I won’t promise the board that you’ll stay at Bertram when I want to do everything in my power to convince you to move to New York. For God’s sake, Helen, I stood in front of my peers and basically said, ‘Look, chaps, I can’t vote because all I can think about is kissing that brilliant woman who was just in here.’ And I don’t even bloody know if you still want me to kiss you.”

  She was humbled by his admission, but it didn’t change the fact that thirty people were about to get their pink slips.

  Before she could answer, he continued. “That’s why I have a board, so logic triumphs over emotion.”

  “Is that the way you live your life, logic over emotion?”

  “That’s the way I run my business. Up to now, there hasn’t been any overlap.”

  She tried to hold on to the rationality of what he was saying, but the betrayal hurt. “I guess that’s where we differ. I believe a business should be about the people. You’re in it for the money.”

  “The two aren’t always mutually exclusive. Don’t take this personally, Helen. It’s just business.”

  “Maybe for you. For me it was very personal.”

  “I know that. And I’m sorry.” He seemed about to say something else but instead he glanced at his watch. “The board is meeting for dinner at seven. Would you like to join us?” The invitation was delivered without emotion.

  This was it; it was over. She couldn’t sit through dinner with a bunch of stuffy men and pretend that her life hadn’t just imploded. No sex, no job, no home. A trifecta of disappointment.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

  “Helen…” He ran a hand through his hair again, then dropped it to his side.

  “Please thank your staff for me, especially Sylvia. They’ve all been excellent. I assume your HR department will start issuing termination notices to the Bertram employees once the final contracts are signed?” She shoved her paperwork into her bag, not daring to look at Simon. His hand covered hers.