by Karen Booth
She hadn’t been in close quarters with Adam like this in a week, and her mind and body were as conflicted as they could be. Everything about his physical presence—his smell, his hair, his hands—made her want to climb inside his shirt, while everything he was saying made her want to clasp her hand over his lips and tell him to shut the hell up. “Please stop reminding me that it was my idea. My brain can only take so much of this at one time.”
“So much of what? Work? The photos? Julia?” He picked up a pen and flipped it back and forth in his fingers.
“Let’s focus on the interview. You really don’t want to know everything going through my head right now.”
“Actually, I’d pay good money to know what’s going on in that head of yours. We can start with the comment about men being so typical. Is there some jerky guy in your past? I mean, I’d like to think this is all about me, but now I’m wondering if there’s something else going on.”
She wasn’t about to venture into the topic of her ex and her disastrous love life. “There’s nothing more going on than me trying to do my job and you putting your special Adam touch on everything. It’s like I spend hours setting a table for dinner and you walk by and turn the forks upside down. You thrive on making everything just slightly off-kilter, don’t you?”
“Off-kilter?” He cocked an eyebrow. “How about real? I don’t like things that are fake and contrived, that’s all. I was spending time with Julia, she bent over, her butt is nice to look at, end of story. You don’t have to read so much into it.”
Then why can’t I believe it’s as simple as that? Melanie looked up to see the moderator waving at them both furiously. She turned the speakers and microphone back on.
“Mr. Langford. Ms. Costello. We really need to start.”
“Yes, of course,” Melanie said. “I’m so sorry for the delay.”
Adam cleared his throat. “Yes, let’s get started.” He then began scrawling a note on a piece of paper. He slid it over to Melanie.
If you bent over in that skirt, I’d be happy to stare at your butt, too.
Nine
Adam let himself into his parents’ Park Avenue apartment, the place he’d lived as a boy. It was opulently decorated, a bit stuffy for his tastes, but it was still home, crystal chandeliers, button-tufted sofas and all.
“Adam, darling.” His mother swept into the foyer wearing her trademark look—black from head to toe with a vibrantly colored scarf around her neck. Adam couldn’t remember a time when she’d worn anything much different, even when he was a boy.
“Mom. You look great.” He kissed her on both cheeks, noticing that she’d lost more weight. The stress of caring for her ailing husband was taking its toll. “Is Anna here?”
“She’s in the powder room. Should be out any second. We’re having dinner in fifteen minutes. Margaret’s making your favorite, beef Wellington.”
“Sounds great. And Dad?” Adam and his mother strolled down the wide hall, shoes clacking on the black-and-white checkerboard marble floors.
“Watching television. He’s developed a fondness for college basketball. Funny, since he never watched it before.”
Adam had to smile, thinking about Melanie that night in the mountains. Even with the way it had ended, he would give anything to be back there with her right now—just the two of them, alone in that big house, the rest of the world a distant thought.
“Adam. My boy.” Roger struggled to get out of his chair, but Adam knew better than to stop him, or worse, offer to help. The man was as stubborn as they came.
Adam hugged his father, who felt frail in his arms but still mustered a strong clap on Adam’s back.
“Dad. It’s good to see you.” Every time he saw his dad, he had to wonder if this time would be the last. The thought was simply too sad to bear. He wanted to believe the doctors, and that Roger still had two or three months to go.
“And under such wonderful auspices, too. I couldn’t be any more pleased with the way this public relations campaign has gone. Best money I’ve spent in years.”
“Ms. Costello is very talented. No question about that.”
Anna filed into the room. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. Always polished and professional, she wore a charcoal-gray suit and cream-colored blouse, having just come from her job as COO for a company that manufactured women’s workout clothes.
Anna gave Adam an uneasy smile. Time with Dad was difficult for her. She was strong and independent, with a solid mind for business, but their father saw her in the context of their family—the only girl, the spitting image of her mother, a prized possession to be shielded from the harsh realities of board meetings and quarterly earnings reports. Roger Langford would never agree to let his little girl run LangTel, however desperate she was for the opportunity.
“Dad,” Anna murmured, embracing their father. “You look good. Rosy cheeks and everything.”
“That’s because I’m happy. Adam and I were just talking about how well the public relations campaign is going. Your mother and I have two of our three children here for dinner. These days, I’m thankful for every little thing that goes my way.”
“I actually heard from Aiden,” Anna said, referring to their brother, the eldest of the Langford siblings. “He’s somewhere in Thailand. I don’t know much more than that. It was just a few lines in an email, and it’d been weeks since I’d reached out to him.”
Their father shook his head in dismay. “God forbid that boy should call your mother and tell her he’s alive.”
Their mother’s eyes grew sad. “He needs to stop avoiding your father’s illness and come home.”
“You know that’s not going to happen,” Adam said.
Aiden wasn’t coming back anytime soon, not after the last argument he’d had with their father. No one dared speak of it, but Adam suspected it was about why Aiden was never considered to run LangTel and was left with little more than his personal shares in the company.
Aiden’s upbringing was markedly different from Adam and Anna’s. Six years older than Adam, Aiden had been sent off to boarding school when Adam was only two and Anna was a baby. Adam still didn’t know why he and Anna attended private school in New York instead. He only knew that Aiden got into a lot of trouble at school—big trouble—and that Adam had been treated from a very young age as if he was the first-born. In many ways, it was as if Aiden didn’t even exist, or at least not in their father’s eyes. It saddened both Anna and Adam that they weren’t close with their brother, but Aiden seemed content with keeping his distance.
“Anna, can I get you a drink?” Adam asked.
“Please. I’ve had a brutal day.”
Adam stepped over to the bar in the corner to mix his sister a gin and tonic. She followed.
From the sound of things on the TV, someone had just hit a big shot in the basketball game. “Darn it all.” Their father eased back into his seat. “I always miss the big plays.”
Their mother consulted her watch. “Dinner should be ready in a few minutes. I’ll check with Margaret and see how things are coming.”
“You really heard from Aiden?” Adam asked Anna, careful to keep his voice low.
“It wasn’t much. It’s pretty clear he’d rather catch the plague than come home and face Dad.”
“It’d be nice if they’d stop feuding.” Adam shook his head, adding a jigger of Hendrick’s gin to the glass and topping it off with tonic. “So what’s the plan tonight? Are we going to talk to Dad?”
“Honestly, I don’t know if I have the strength. If I have to listen to the speech about how I should be looking for a husband and thinking about private school for my unborn children, I might scream. Between Dad and my current job, I feel like I spend my entire life beating my head against a wall.”
Adam drew in a deep br
eath. It was a miracle this subject hadn’t given both his sister and him an ulcer. Ironic that they both had what the other wanted—he saw LangTel as a soul-sucking proposition, seeing out someone else’s vision instead of his own. How he longed to have options like Anna.
She, on the other hand, would have done anything to become the first female CEO of a major telecom. More than anything, he sensed that she longed to prove herself, and do it on the largest stage imaginable.
Adam patted Anna’s back. “I’ll go to bat for you. We need to keep trying.”
Margaret, the family’s longtime cook, appeared in the family room doorway. “Dinner is ready, Langford children.” She smiled wide, looking like a pudgy Mary Poppins. For a moment, Adam could remember exactly what it was like to grow up in this household—every privilege a child could ever want, every expectation a young boy could never shoulder.
* * *
After dinner, Adam followed his father into his office, swirling bourbon in a cut-crystal old-fashioned glass. Since the cancer diagnosis, his dad had laid off the liquor. Roger took his place behind the massive mahogany desk, which had once been the prized possession of Adam’s grandfather, the second Langford man to make a fortune in business. Even when Adam and his dad were having father-son time, the setup always more closely resembled a meeting.
“Tell me how things are going with Julia. I know you didn’t want to talk about it in front of your mother, but you can tell your old man. You know, we actually look forward to seeing your picture in the paper now.” He laughed quietly. “That’s a big improvement from a month ago.”
Adam wasn’t convinced it had made things any better, at least not for him personally. Parading around Manhattan with his fake girlfriend made him feel like a human puppet, and for someone who had his own ideas of what he should be doing, that was uncomfortable. He settled into one of the leather club chairs opposite his father’s desk. “Dad, I’ve told you. It isn’t real. It was Ms. Costello’s idea, remember?”
“I know what I saw in those pictures. You’re happy together.” Roger collected a handful of envelopes and neatly arranged them on his desk blotter. “Sometimes a man needs to open his eyes to what is already in front of him. You’d be a fool to pass up a woman like Julia.”
All Adam could think was that the woman who was already in front of him was Melanie. And she wanted nothing to do with him, at least not romantically.
“Julia is beautiful and famous, Adam. She’s exactly the sort of woman your mother and I would love to see you with. You’re a man. She’s a woman. I don’t see the problem.”
The problem is that I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. Adam took another sip of bourbon. His father was accustomed to getting what he wanted. Adam wasn’t about to deny a dying man, but he wouldn’t lie. “I need you and Mom to keep your feet firmly planted on the ground. Unless something drastic happens, there is no Adam and Julia.”
“Son, let me ask you this. Do you know what I saw when I looked at you and your sister on the days you were born?”
Adam pursed his lips. “Wrinkly newborns?”
“I saw the future. I saw a boy to carry on my name and my legacy. I saw a girl to give your mother and me grandchildren.”
“What about Aiden?”
“I thought I saw the future in him, too, but it turns out that I was wrong.”
“Dad, don’t say that.”
“It’s true. I have very few days left on this earth. The only thing I have left is hope that you and your sister and your mother will be okay after I’m gone. I need to know that you will have the lives you want. That means a husband for your sister and a wife for you. That means a roomful of grandchildren at Christmas for your mother.” His dad’s booming voice softened and wobbled. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
Adam sucked in a deep breath. He’d seen his father cry only once, the day his Grandmother Langford had died. Adam knew that his dad had a heart as wide as an ocean, even if he could be stern and demanding.
“You can’t worry about us like that. We’ll be fine. And you have to stop assuming that you won’t be around for those things, because you never know.”
“I just need you to know that the three of you are the most important thing in the entire world to me. You’re my only thought when I wake up in the morning.”
Of course, Adam knew that his dad’s statement wasn’t entirely true. Willing to admit it or not, Roger Langford had an awful lot of ego wrapped up in the future of the corporation he’d built from the ground up.
“Dad, you know we need to talk about Anna and LangTel. You really hurt her feelings at dinner, and I don’t understand why you refuse to see what an amazing job she’ll do.”
“It’s not her abilities I question. I put her in charge of organizing the gala, didn’t I?”
“That’s not the assignment she was hoping for.”
“She’s a smart girl, but you have to be bulletproof to do my job, and I’m not willing to put my little girl in that position. It’s my job to protect her. Call me an old man if you want to, that’s just the way I feel.”
Adam would’ve simply grumbled if he weren’t so dead set on proving his dad wrong on this point. And it wasn’t just selfish reasons that motivated him. There was more to it than his lack of enthusiasm for running LangTel. His sister had grown up in Adam’s shadow, and he hated it. She was just as smart as him, maybe even smarter, innovative, quick on her feet. It was just that she’d had the unlucky lot of not being a boy. She was at an unfair disadvantage from the outset.
“Anna is as tough as any man. Maybe tougher. And you know, she helped me a lot when you put me in charge during your surgery and first wave of treatments. I don’t understand why you won’t give her the chance.”
“You said it right there. She helped you. I can see her in a subordinate role. Perhaps she’s senior assistant to the CEO or some such. You’ll be at the helm, just as you’ve dreamed about since you were little.”
Adam had to say what was on the tip of his tongue. “What if I don’t want to run LangTel?”
The look on his dad’s face was one of utter horror. “Don’t let your sister’s wishes cloud the issue. Of course you’re going to run LangTel. That has been the plan from the day you were born, and I’m not about to stray from that now. End of discussion.”
“Dad, I’m a grown man. I have my own company to run. You, more than anyone, must appreciate that I want to see my own vision come to life. I want to succeed with my own plans, not see out what you had hoped to do, but won’t have the chance to.” Dead silence rang through the room as Adam realized what he’d said. “Dad, no.” He sat forward, placed his hands flat on his father’s desk. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
“You think I don’t wish we were having this discussion because I was getting ready to retire? Because I do, dammit.” He pounded his fist on the desk. “But I’ll be gone by then. LangTel is my life’s work and your mother’s financial security, and you’re the person I trust with it. So, like it or not, I need you to accept the fact that you were born to do this job. Period.”
Adam sank back in his chair. How could he argue with his dad when he was facing death? He couldn’t.
Ten
Most magazine editors were notorious for last-minute changes, and Fiona March, editor in chief of Metropolitan Style, was no exception. Adam’s cover feature in the weekly magazine was one of the first things Melanie had put in place for the campaign, and it was easily her biggest coup. So when Fiona called her the night before and requested—no, begged—that Julia be present for Adam’s interview and photo shoot, Melanie had no choice. Plus, Fiona had decided to conduct the interview herself, something she did only once or twice a year. Melanie had to make it happen.
Great. Can’t wait to hang out with Mr. and Ms. Beautiful.
Melanie blew
out a breath, staring at the numbers above the elevator door. She considered pushing the alarm. The temptation was so great that her hand twitched. A screeching siren would at least delay her arrival at Adam’s penthouse apartment and create a diversion. If she was super lucky, maybe they’d send a hunky fireman to her rescue and she could have a fling with him and forget Adam. Firemen made good boyfriends. They didn’t complicate a woman’s life, and especially not her career.
Much to her dismay, she hadn’t had the nerve to press the red button, and the doors slid open when she reached Adam’s apartment. This was her first time here since their night together, and visions were already flashing through her mind. To make matters worse, her stroll down memory lane would be accompanied by her first meeting with Adam’s new “love interest,” Julia. Breathe. Breathe.
The last time she’d been in this room, she was half-undressed, Adam’s hands all over her while she frantically unbuttoned his shirt, nearly breaking the zipper on his pants, before embarrassingly stepping on his foot. He’d played it off so sexily, too, sweeping her into his arms and mumbling into her ear, “No more walking for you.” A minute later, her hair was splayed across his bed and he was blazing a trail of kisses down her stomach. Just thinking about it created waves of pleasant warmth, followed by emptiness. She’d needed him so badly that night. She’d needed him in the mountain house. What was it about him that elicited that response?
A Metropolitan Style photographer was busy capturing the open-plan living room—high ceilings, dark wood floors, cool gray walls, brown leather furniture just as Adam liked it. There were the more feminine touches now—a cashmere throw, decorative candles and objets d’art on the coffee table, all added by the home stager Melanie had hired and to which Adam had protested. The neon beer signs and moose head were indeed fiction.