Billionaires Runaway Bride (A Standalone British Billionaire Romance Novel)

by Claire Adams

  “I just did what I had to do.”

  “I appreciate it,” I added and our eyes met for a moment longer than I had intended.

  She forced her gaze to the desk, got up rather quickly, and headed for the door. I knew she had an idea about who was behind this, likely the same idea I had, but I couldn't fathom why she wouldn't just tell me. Perhaps she needed proof before she made any accusations; I could understand that. Still, this was an urgent matter and if it went viral we'd be in hot water—boiling hot water. I'm not sure how well we could weather that storm.

  There was, of course, still the matter of the break-in to consider and how it’s possible our social media accounts may have been compromised because of it. Granted, every password in our system had been changed, but it was possible. So far, the PI had still not been able to conclusively link Savage to the intrusion, although he said he was working on some good leads.

  With these thoughts swirling around my head, I pulled in a deep breath and called the first member of the senior team in for questioning.

  ***

  A few hours later, I stood and stretched as the last member of the senior team left my office. It had been a long morning. The interviews, or interrogations as Janice had called them, had taken a lot longer than I'd thought they would. In the end, I still had nothing. It seemed nobody had any idea about how the tweet had gotten out. And if they did, they were concealing it extremely well.

  I glanced at my watch to confirm it was time for lunch—something my stomach already knew.

  I stepped out of my office, headed toward the elevator, and turned the corner that would take me past Lilah's office—only I didn’t make it past her office. I stopped dead in my tracks.

  There, standing in her doorway, talking and smiling as she held a huge bouquet of flowers, which, presumably, he'd just brought her, was none other than Brendan Savage.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed.

  Brendan turned around, a smug grin plastered across his face. Lilah simply looked away, blushing furiously and looking as though she’d prefer to slink into a corner.

  “I'm just visiting a friend. Aren't I, Lilah? It's a free country, Sinclair. I'm not breaking any laws.”

  “Get out,” I growled.

  He smiled arrogantly, “Or what?”

  Or I'll uppercut that smug grin right off your face and roundhouse kick your head through the damn wall—is what I wanted to say. Actually, it’s what I wanted to do. However, I managed to hold my tongue and keep my composure.

  “Or I'll call security and have you removed. This is private property, you are not welcome, and you're trespassing. The law is on my side here, Savage, and whatever lawyer you hire to defend you, I'll hire a better one to sue your ass. Now leave.”

  He chuckled sarcastically. “All right, all right. I'll leave. This place is kind of a dump, anyway. You should see my building, Lilah. Makes this trash-heap look like a ghetto. See you around, beautiful.”

  Lilah said an awkward goodbye and then hurried into her office. I simply stood in the doorway, arms crossed aggressively across my chest until Savage slunk away. I wanted more than anything to follow him into the elevator and kick his ass—especially after seeing him with Lilah—but I remembered Colonel Tanaka's lessons on self-control and took minor consolation in the fact that I'd been the bigger man.

  As much as I hated to admit it, his presence was giving me doubts about what Lilah had told me. What had that man been doing here, under my nose, bringing her flowers? I shook my head. I could just walk in and confront her about it, but it wasn’t the time or the place. The answers to those questions would have to wait. I had way too many other things on my plate to deal with at the moment. I put my hands in my pockets and trudged out to get some lunch.

  Chapter Thirty

  Lilah

  My cheeks were glowing red and burning as if they'd just been doused in gasoline and set alight. I could hardly believe Brendan had the audacity to walk into this building, head straight to my office, and hand me a bouquet of flowers knowing full well the kind of stir his presence was going to cause. Knowing the likelihood that Asher would see him.

  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that making such a show was likely his motive all along. Brendan had made it clear he was still romantically interested in me—he hadn't stopped messaging me, despite me responding either with single word replies or not at all. My aloofness hadn't seemed to discourage him in the slightest. And now flowers?

  I wasn't sure what I could actually do to get him off my back. The longer he pursued me, the more I questioned if he was even interested in me at all, and the more convinced I became that he had something to do with the tweet being leaked.

  First, there had been the break-in at the offices, then Brendan suddenly taking a strong interest in me, and now this leaked tweet. Something was fishy—like, left in the cooler in the summer heat for a week, fishy. I didn't have any way of proving anything though—not yet, at least. I had every intention of finding a way.

  For the moment, however, what I needed was damage control. Asher had arrived at precisely the worst moment—seconds after Brendan had surprised me and shoved a bouquet of flowers into my arms. It was almost as if the man had been given a cue.

  And, what had I done? I froze. What was I supposed to have done? Or said? How should I have reacted? Clearly, I didn’t know. So, I did what any confused woman with her arms filled with flowers would do, I crept into my office and shut the door.

  With all that was happening, I had to rethink my situation.

  As much as I’d been trying to, I couldn't deny that my feelings for Asher had grown stronger. In fact, they seemed to be growing stronger by the day, no matter how much I tried to trample them down and ignore them.

  But I still felt strongly about putting my career first—that hadn’t changed. My career, my passion for my job is what had driven me for the past few years. It was the one thing that had gotten me through the tough times, through the depression and heartbreak after Jacob. And focusing on that made me stronger than I had ever thought possible.

  In fact, look where that had landed me. In my dream job, where I'd just been given a raise, a promotion, and a new luxury car to drive around in. And yet, despite all of those things, something hollow remained in my core. There was still an emptiness when I wasn’t buried in work.

  Only, when I was with Asher, that emptiness went away. I found myself time and time again thinking about how we laughed together all those late nights when we were supposed to be working, how easy it was just being around him, how much we had in common . . . and how forcefully I kept pushing him away.

  What I felt for him seemed to be at odds with everything I was putting at the forefront of my life. It was a conflict I felt, on some level, couldn’t possibly be reconciled. It would have to be one or the other; I simply couldn't have both. Life didn’t work that way.

  How could I play both sides of that fence and make it work?

  A sly smile crept over my lips as the idea spread like wildfire through my mind. Playing both sides of the fence was precisely what I needed to do.

  ***

  Asher stepped over to the projector, where he pulled up a chart, and turned to face the team around the conference table.

  “The French VIV perfume campaign has been a runaway success,” he said with a smile, “Largely due to the brilliant insight and innovation provided by our campaign leader, Miss Maxwell, here. I really don't think we could have asked for better results, especially since its success opens up a whole new potential client base for us in the European market. In fact, in light of how promising some of the market research appears, we are considering the option of opening an office in Europe.”

  I was as taken by surprise as the rest of the team seemed to be. Opening a European branch? Mostly because of my influence on a campaign? It sounded too good to be true, and I immediately wondered what that meant for my future with the Sinclair Agency. I could totall
y see myself living in Paris.

  Just as Asher was flipping to a new chart to review, he was interrupted by a frantic knocking on the door. Confusion ran across his features. “Come in,” he instructed.

  One of the interns burst in, carrying a laptop that still had half of the power cord dangling from it as she rushed into the room.

  “Mr. Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair, there's something you really need to see. I’m so sorry for interrupting. It’s just . . . it’s just,” she stuttered.

  “What? What's wrong?”

  “The tweet, sir, the tweet—and that blog post. They've just gone viral, sir.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Asher

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

  “Viral? It's gone viral?” I managed to stammer.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, nodding.

  “How viral?”

  “Nuclear, sir. That blogger must have contacted someone at Salon Magazine, and one of their writers did a piece on it. Now it's all over Facebook, people are tweeting about it left, right, and center, and—”

  I held my hand up to stop the chatty intern. “All right, all right, I get it. It's bad. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Take a seat over there, why don't you?”

  The intern looked confused and borderline frightened.

  “But sir, I'm just an intern, this meeting is for—”

  “You had enough initiative to bring me this news without hesitating, so please take a seat over there. Pay attention and you might learn something useful.”

  She nodded and scurried to an empty chair.

  I looked out over the sea of faces staring back and on each one I could see the same expression: worry. They each knew about the tweet after I had interrogated them all. So they knew this was a crisis situation, and we had to do some serious damage control to keep it from escalating. Our reputation was at stake.

  Something going viral that comes across as insulting or hate-filled toward a particular group of people had the potential to utterly destroy a company. If we didn't play our cards right, we could find ourselves in the midst of a firestorm of bad press, lost clients, and possibly even lawsuits.

  I stood in silence for a moment, not quite knowing what to say and running through the situation over and over in my head. There had to be some way to deescalate the torrent of bad press that had already begun

  I stood from my seat and faced the room. “You're my family,” I said in a tone of quiet but firm authority. “And whatever happens, I'll protect all of you. I'll take the rap for this myself if someone has to go down.”

  It was what my grandfather would have said—and what he would have done.

  “Perhaps nobody will have to go down,” piped a familiar voice.

  Lilah.

  Everyone turned to look at her. She was standing confidently, addressing the group. A surge of intense attraction billowed through my core.

  “Why is that, Lilah?” I asked.

  “Everyone is expecting us to back down, to cower, to grovel at their feet for an apology. Right?”

  “I suppose they are.”

  “Screw 'em. Don't apologize. We are a team, despite our diversity. I know if I were to ask all of you, you would each identify with various groups. That’s what makes us all such a great marketing team. Everyone here has a different background and therefore a different way of looking at things.

  “We all know that quote was taken entirely out of context, but let's run with it. There's actually nothing inherently transphobic about the statement, even when taken out of context. Sure, it's a bit old-fashioned, but it says nothing about transgendered people at all. That's just what the politically correct fascists are reading into it.

  “So, let's hit them with something completely out of left field. Let's not apologize. Let's run with the campaign exactly as planned—putting a heavy emphasis on the badass, male aspect of it. Let's make the ad campaign even more about a badass man's man than it was going to be.

  “Let's show whoever is behind this that we're not going to be intimidated, that a bit of bad press and words taken out of context aren't going to knock us.”

  “Are you sure about this?” asked one of my senior men from the back. “It's a risky card to play, especially considering the implications if it backfires.”

  “I don't think it's going to backfire,” countered Lilah.

  I looked everyone in the eye, individually, as I glanced around the room. Every one of them had contributed to the campaign that was currently being taken out of context and, like Lilah had said, we were a diverse group. That is how I knew her idea would work.

  “And, I don't either,” I agreed. “In fact, I think it might just turn this thing around completely. It's a bold, audacious, and an entirely unexpected move. I think it's going to work.”

  Murmurs of agreement started to flutter around the room. Eventually, everyone agreed that it would indeed be the boldest course of action to take and likely our best chance of making it through unscathed.

  “Good!” I said, charged from the sudden burst of optimism. “It's decided, then. We'll go forward with the 'when men were men' campaign and intensify the message. Let's hit 'em team, let's hit 'em with everything we've got! Get to work.”

  Everyone began to file out of the conference room, Lilah being one of the first ones before I could even give her a pat on the back for the bold idea. Another team member stopped me before I could try to catch up with her.

  Thirty minutes later, I walked past Lilah's office and considered heading in to speak to her about Savage and the flowers sitting so boldly on her desk, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to hear about it if she was considering going out with him. I decided against it.

  Besides, she had been extremely insistent about keeping things between us professional and, if that was the way she wanted it, that was how it would have to be. I wasn't about to overstep those boundaries, even though I felt the way I did about her.

  One of the most senior members of my team almost collided with me as he rounded the corner because I was so lost in my thoughts about Lilah. He glanced over at her office door, seeming to know that she was on my mind.

  “She's quite a firecracker, that one,” he said with a knowing half grin.

  “That she is,” I replied wistfully.

  “She's brought a lot of fresh energy to this company,” he remarked. “Good job on hiring her. You're a good judge of talent and character, Asher. You remind me a lot of your grandfather. He and I were friends for a long time, son. After all, I've been with this company for over three decades now. He'd be real proud of what you've achieved, I can promise you that.

  “This little Twitter thing, it'll blow over, trust me. Besides, with that young woman's brilliant strategy, we may even be able to turn it around and work the angle in our favor. Don't worry, son, everything's going to turn out all right. It will always work out the way it should. Life has a way of doing that . . . with everything,” he added as he glanced in at Lilah and then back at me before giving me a reassuring wink and a solid slap on the shoulder.

  “I hope so,” I murmured in reply. “I really hope so.”

  ***

  I hadn't been able to stop smiling all morning. The entire day, I'd felt as if I'd been walking on air. The taste of victory was sweet, and it lingered delectably on my palate.

  Lilah's strategy had totally worked. After a few, carefully-orchestrated magazine articles, several positive blog write-ups, and a brilliant social media strategy, the negative bloggers had been silenced. In fact, the social network had mostly turned against them for taking our words entirely out of context. We had tens of thousands of new followers on social media. Many were even congratulating us openly on how well we had handled the crisis and owned the image.

  The success had all been because of Lilah.

  Even though she and I had hardly said more than two words to each other over the past few weeks, I had to talk to her. In a strictly professional manner, of course. I c
alled her direct office line.

  “Lilah,” I said as she answered, “Could you come to my office please?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I'll be there in a few minutes. I'm just finishing something up.”

  When she arrived, I found it hard to look her in the eyes. My feelings for her hadn’t waivered, even though I knew there was no point. They burned as intensely as they ever had. Still, I had made a promise to her to keep my affections out of this—strictly professional. I wasn't about to default on that promise.

  “You've heard the news, I take it?” I said as she approached my desk.

  “I have,” she replied with a smile.

  “Well, it's all because of your brilliant strategizing.”

  She blushed and it made her even more beautiful. “I can't take all the credit, I mean—”

  “Nonsense. It was your idea, and it worked like a charm. Don't be so modest. You had a great idea, it succeeded, and now . . . well, now you get to reap the rewards.”

  Her eyes brightened as I said this.

  “I do? How?”

  “A bonus, of sorts. What would you like?”

  “That's a pretty broad question.”

  “All right, let me narrow it down for you. You get a five a day vacation, anywhere in the world, with all expenses covered. How does that sound?”

  “If I can bring a friend, it sounds perfect.”

  A rush of jealous heat spread through me. How was I going to deny her if that “friend” turned out to be Brendan Savage?

  “What friend did you have in mind?” I asked, regretting the words as soon as they escaped my lips. Asking probably made it sound as if I would have put stipulations on her reward and it likely made me sound exactly what I was—jealous.

  “Meg, my best friend. She and I have talked about taking a trip to Hawaii for ages, and this would be a great opportunity to do that.”