Mistress of the Game

by Sidney Sheldon

  Eve called Max while he was driving.

  “Did you see her?”

  “Yes, Mother. I saw her.”

  “You played it the way we discussed?”

  “Yes.”

  “And? Do you think she trusts you?”

  Max thought about this for a moment. He remembered the way that Lexi’s pupils had dilated when he took her hand; the heat when their legs had touched. There was something new between them, all right. But he wouldn’t necessarily call it trust.

  “I think she’s starting to.”

  Eve sensed the hesitation in his voice. She asked him sharply: “You didn’t sleep with her, did you?”

  “No, Mother. Of course not.”

  “Good.” Eve sounded mollified. “You’ll have to eventually, of course. But not yet. It’s too soon.”

  Max hung up feeling uneasy. He pictured his mother pacing their New York apartment in her silk robe, a caged tigress waiting for him to return from the hunt. Things had gone better than he’d expected with Lexi this evening. But still. His discussion with Eve last week was vividly branded in his memory. The tension in her voice, the pent-up rage coiled inside her body, ready to burst through the skin.

  It’s your last chance, Max. Our last chance! That bitch is going to take Kruger-Brent from us. You have to do something!

  I will Mother. Don’t worry. I will.

  But would he? Could he?

  What if he failed?

  Swerving to the side of the road, he stopped the car and fumbled in the glove box. Pulling out a clear plastic pillbox and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, he swallowed four Xanax, washing them down with the raw, scorching liquor.

  I won’t fail you, Mother.

  I promise.

  TWENTY-ONE

  IT SEEMED TO LEXI THAT THE NEXT YEAR WENT BY IN A blink.

  She had a natural flair for real estate. Kate Blackwell always believed that an instinctive feel for a market was worth a hundred MBAs. Lexi agreed. It wasn’t Harvard that had given her a nose for business. Business was in her blood. She lived for the high of clinching deals, thriving on stress and tension the way that other people thrived on eight hours’ sleep and regular meals. Kruger-Brent’s real-estate holdings were enormous and growing all the time. It was such an exciting sector, it was easy to forget that it was just one of hundreds of industries that the company was involved in.

  As Max’s and Lexi’s twenty-fifth birthdays moved ever closer, Kruger-Brent’s ten-man board of directors decided that they should both spend some time learning the ropes of all of the company’s myriad business areas.

  “It’s important that you feel intimately familiar with every aspect of the firm.” Tristram Harwood addressed his remarks to the two of them, but by this point, both Lexi and Max knew that “you” meant Lexi.

  “I daresay you feel you’ve grown up here and that you know the business inside out. But you might be surprised by just how vast your empire really is.”

  “Patronizing old fossil,” said Max as they left the office.

  “He’s pathetic,” agreed Lexi. “Our empire indeed.”

  But Tristram Harwood was right. Kruger-Brent was an empire. And Lexi was surprised. Flying back and forth across the globe like a deranged bat, visiting the company offices in India and Russia, Prague and Hong Kong, Dublin and Dubai, it dawned on her that to run Kruger-Brent she must be more than just a brilliant businesswoman. Much more. She must be a stateswoman. A diplomat. A general. She must lead, of course, but she must also delegate. Kruger-Brent was infinitely too huge to be managed by one human being. For the first time, she saw for herself just how important it would be to have a team of people around her whom she trusted implicitly.

  August Sandford. He’s a pain in the ass, but I trust August.

  And Max, of course.

  Since Lexi’s return from Italy, there had been a sea change in Max. At work, he was helpful, respectful and relaxed. Where once Lexi would have gone to August Sandford with her problems, she now used Max as a sounding board. When she visited a microchip-manufacturing subsidiary in India and found that the managers there could not understand her when she spoke, despite their fluent English, she was mortified.

  They looked at me like I had just landed from Mars. Lexi poured her heart out in a late-night e-mail to Max. I felt like such a fool. All these years people have been telling me my speaking voice is fine. But it’s bullshit. I obviously sounded like a deaf, slurring freak to these guys.

  Max responded calmly. Indian English and American English were not the same thing. They’d probably have looked at him the same way. Lexi should travel with a signing interpreter as well as a regular language interpreter, just in case. No big deal.

  It was exactly what Lexi needed to hear.

  The sexual tension between them grew daily. Max infuriated Lexi by blowing hot and cold. It was the one element of his character that continued to perplex her. One minute she felt sure he was about to make a move. The next he switched, and started acting all brotherly toward her. Used to men dropping at her feet like flies, Lexi had no idea how to handle Max’s hard-to-get routine. She dated other guys-discreetly; now was not the time to reignite the party-girl rumors-but found the sex to be utterly unsatisfying. The thought crossed her mind that she might be in love with her cousin, but she quickly pushed it aside.

  I don’t have time for love. There’s too much to do at Kruger-Brent.

  Lexi’s world tour opened her eyes to the grievous problems the company was facing. Unquestionably, the biggest issue was size. Kruger-Brent was too big. Under Kate Blackwell’s leadership, the firm had swallowed every competitor it came across like Pac-Man, regardless of its fit with the rest of the group’s businesses. In the two years before Kate Blackwell’s death, Kruger-Brent became the proud owner of a diamond mine in Zaire, a children’s book publisher in Scotland, a biotech research firm in Connecticut and a swath of Brazilian rain forest approximately the size of Pennsylvania, to name only four of Kate’s scores of acquisitions.

  Lexi’s great-grandmother had been master of the game of business. But the game had changed.

  When I’m chairman, I’ll be playing by new rules. We need to be leaner. Fitter. Faster. Or we won’t survive.

  Lexi knew she wanted to grow the real-estate business. Oil and gas would also be crucial. Her most recent trip to Africa had strengthened her growing belief that the continent, with its wealth of land and natural resources, might well hold the key to Kruger-Brent’s future. Just as it had once held the key to its past.

  There were fortunes to be made in African land and property. Prices were tripling every year, but most big American firms were losing out, too nervous about the volatile politics and economy to invest in the region. Meanwhile, local conglomerates like the Olam Group and Africa Israel Investments were making out like bandits. In South Africa, what should have been Kruger-Brent’s heartland, new companies like Endeavour and Gabriel McGregor’s Phoenix were outpacing them, leveraging themselves up to the hilt and audaciously grabbing market share from right under their noses.

  Lexi admired Phoenix’s brilliantly simple business model. She made a mental note to copy it, then squeeze Gabriel McGregor out of business at the earliest opportunity.

  Jamie McGregor built this firm in Africa. He wasn’t afraid to take a risk. Nor am I.

  The week before Christmas, August Sandford asked Lexi to have lunch with him.

  “I never see you these days. Real estate is horribly quiet without you.”

  Lexi smiled. It was the closest he’d ever come to paying her a compliment. She agreed to lunch the following day.

  The concierge at the Harvard Club looked disapprovingly at the group of photographers mobbing Lexi as she emerged from her town car. In a cream cashmere coat from Donna Karan, her famous gray Blackwell eyes covered with oversize Oliver Peoples, she looked every inch the budding tycoon.

  “Sorry, John.” Lexi smiled. The concierge melted faster than the snowflakes on the sidewalk. �
��I’ve been out of town for a few weeks.” She nodded toward the paparazzi. “I’m afraid they’re worse than usual. Has Mr. Sandford arrived yet?”

  “Yes, Ms. Templeton. His usual table.”

  August watched Lexi as she weaved her way through the other diners toward him. She wore a crisply tailored pantsuit she’d had custom-made in Hong Kong, and looked professional and poised. August thought: She’s grown up. Though he’d die rather than let her know it, he’d become genuinely fond of Lexi these past two years. His initial, envy-fueled attraction had been replaced by something worryingly close to friendship. August Sandford had never been friends with a woman before. Perhaps that was why this whole thing felt so awkward?

  August was not looking forward to today’s lunch. He had things to tell Lexi that he knew she wouldn’t want to hear. Things that might make him look foolish in her eyes. Or paranoid. Or jealous. Or all three.

  Lexi sat down.

  “So what’s been going on? What’ve I missed? Did you close the Hammersman deal yet?”

  August grinned. He loved the way she cut straight to the chase.

  “We did. Yesterday. How was Africa?”

  “Interesting. Hot. The food sucked.”

  “You missed New York?”

  “I missed the office. But don’t tell anyone.”

  They ordered food. Lexi could tell August had something on his mind.

  “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” She took a bite of her turkey club sandwich. After two weeks of boerewors and Mrs. Ball’s chutney washed down with rancid rooibos tea, it tasted like manna from heaven.

  August bit his lip. “Have you seen Max since you got back?”

  “Not yet. Why?”

  “It may be nothing.” He paused. “It’s just…some of the things he’s been doing recently. Are you sure he’s given up all hope of the chairmanship?”

  Lexi put down her sandwich.

  “Of course I’m sure. What’s this about, August?”

  “I overheard Max in the men’s room a few weeks ago. He was talking to Tristram Harwood, claiming credit for selling one of the online gambling businesses.”

  “Jester. I know. He sold it to KKR.”

  “Except he didn’t.” August took a sip of his iced water. “That was never Max’s deal. It was Jim Bruton’s.”

  “Was it?”

  “Uh-huh. Jim challenged Max about stealing his thunder. Four days later, he was packing up his desk.”

  Lexi shrugged. “So? Bruton got canned. What do you care? I thought you hated him.”

  “I do. That’s not the point.” August tried a different tack. “Max was supposed to be in Switzerland last month, touring pharmaceuticals. As soon as he heard you’d been sent to Africa, he canceled the trip. He’s been in New York the whole time you were gone, playing golf with Harwood and Logan Marshall. He even invited me to dinner at the Lowell, then on to Cindy’s. I’m telling you, he’s been schmoozing big-time.”

  Lexi felt her chest tighten, but not for the reason August Sandford intended. Cindy’s was a strip joint, known for having the most beautiful pole dancers in the city. The thought of Max fondling some seminaked goddess while she was in Africa made her sick with jealousy.

  “Did you go? To Cindy’s?”

  August ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “No. Lexi, I don’t think you’re hearing me. I think Max is plotting against you behind your back. I think he’s up to something.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Am I? What happened in Italy, Lexi? That time that I was supposed to meet you in Florence.”

  “Nothing happened.” Lexi sounded defensive. “You disappeared to Taiwan without bothering to call me. Max was in Italy for some deal or other. We had dinner. Who cares? It was a year ago, for God’s sake.”

  “Taiwan was a setup. There was no meeting. Someone called Karen, my assistant, posing as Mr. Li’s secretary. I flew halfway around the world for nothing.”

  Lexi laughed.

  “And you think it was Max? Come on! It’s a bit Mission: Impossible, isn’t it?”

  August was silent for a few moments.

  “Lexi,” he said at last. “Are you and Max an item?”

  The red flush on Lexi’s cheeks was as much from anger as embarrassment.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a simple question. Are you sleeping with him?”

  Lexi stood up. “In what alternate universe would that possibly be your business?”

  Furious, she turned and stormed out of the restaurant.

  Who the hell does August Sandford think he is? My father?

  August was about to call after her, then remembered that she wouldn’t be able to hear him. He got up and followed her into the street.

  It was still snowing. Grabbing Lexi by the shoulder, August spun her around to face him. Only then did he realize that they were surrounded by snapping photographers. By this time tomorrow, the gossip columns would no doubt be touting him as Lexi Templeton’s new love interest.

  “I think you’re in love with Max.” Having come this far, he might as well get it off his chest. “And I think it’s clouding your judgment. He’s using you, Lexi.”

  Click click click.

  Angrily, Lexi shrugged off his hand.

  “If anyone’s judgment is clouded, it’s yours. You’re jealous. You’re jealous because Max and I…”

  “What? Max and you what?”

  At that moment John, the Harvard Club concierge, scurried out of the club like a groundhog. He forced his way through the knot of paparazzi, carrying Lexi’s coat over his arm. Stepping in front of August, he bundled Lexi into it.

  “For heaven’s sake, Ms. Templeton. Leaving without your coat? You’ll freeze.”

  “Thank you, John.”

  Grimly, Lexi buttoned the cream wool up to the neck. With a last, furious look at August, she climbed into the back of her town car. The driver sped away, spraying the photographers with filthy, traffic-blackened snow.

  Lexi stared through the smoked-glass windows, trying to collect her thoughts.

  “Back to the office, miss?”

  “Not yet, Wilfred. If you wouldn’t mind just driving around for a little bit.”

  Damn August and his stupid suspicions! What does he know? She ran through everything he’d told her again. Max and Jim Bruton had fallen out over a deal. So what? It happened all the time. Max canceled a trip to Europe. That could have been for any number of reasons. Max was playing golf with board members. Hardly a hanging offense. Admittedly the Taiwan thing was weird. But Lexi was sure there must be a perfectly rational explanation.

  What she wasn’t sure about was why she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease lurking in the pit of her stomach.

  She still felt sick that evening when she got home to her apartment. Normally cooking and watching close-captioned reruns of Friends helped her to destress, but tonight nothing was working.

  Changing into her pajamas and settling down on the couch with a family-size tub of Phish Food ice cream, Lexi decided to call her brother. Robbie always helped her put things into perspective, and for once he was actually in her time zone, playing a bunch of concerts in Pittsburgh. Thanks to Lexi’s new Geemarc screen phone, a brilliant invention that enabled her to speak normally into the telephone then have the other person’s speech translated into text in front of her, she was gradually starting to escape the tyranny of e-mail. (Kruger-Brent had made a bid for Geemarc last year but lost out to a German rival. The next morning Lexi had her broker buy as much of the acquirer’s stock as he could get hold of. Today those shares were worth three times what she paid and were still rising.)

  There was no answer in Robbie’s hotel room. He must have left for the Mellon concert hall already.

  Maybe I should call Max directly? Talk to him about this stuff. But there was no way she could do that without landing August in the shit. As angry as she was with August, the last thing Lexi wanted was to have him and Max ge
tting into some sort of office feud. They’re the two people at Kruger-Brent I trust the most. I’ll need them both on my side when I become chairman.

  A red light flashed on the wall above the TV. Someone was downstairs. Flicking on the video screen by the front door, Lexi saw a male figure, shoulders hunched against the wind. When she saw who it was, she smiled.

  He never comes to the apartment. I wonder what he wants at this time of night?

  Buzzing him up, she dashed into the bathroom and brushed some bronzer onto her cheeks. Africa had been roasting, but Lexi’s schedule had left her precious little time to tan. Traveling always made her look drained and washed out. In her hurry, she managed to spill bronzing powder all over the bathroom floor. She was still on her hands and knees cleaning up when Max walked in.

  “Jesus, what happened in here? A sandstorm?”

  Lexi stood up and kissed him on the cheek.

  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I know. I was on my way home from dinner and I thought I’d stop in. But look, if you’re too tired…”

  “No, no. It’s fine.” In a thick cable-knit sweater and jeans, he looked even more handsome than usual. August’s words floated back to Lexi. I think you’re in love with him.

  “Drink?”

  “I’ll have a Scotch, thanks.”

  She went into the kitchen to fix it for him. A few moments later, she jumped out of her skin. Creeping up behind her, Max slipped two cold hands around her waist. Then, so gently Lexi could barely feel it, he dropped a kiss on the bare skin on the back of her neck.

  Okay. Now, that’s a move. Surely that counts as a move?

  Or does the neck thing make it brotherly?

  Crap.

  She turned. Max was looking at her, his predatory eyes wandering over her features, as if seeing them for the first time.

  “You had lunch with August Sandford today.”

  How did he know that?

  “Yes.”

  “Did he make a move on you?”

  Lexi was so surprised, she burst out laughing.

  “Is that a yes?” Max asked angrily.

  “No, it’s not a yes! It’s a no. Of course he didn’t make a move. August doesn’t think of me like that.”