Annihilate Me 2: Omnibus (Complete Vols. 1-3, Annihilate Me 2)

by Christina Ross

  “I can handle that.”

  “I know you can.”

  “But we have an event to go to tonight.”

  “I know we do—Henri Dufort’s party. Given what happened on his rooftop with Jake Kobus, who nearly killed me, I’d rather not go back there. But things have changed. Jake is dead. Gordon Kobus is out of our lives. So I think we should go forward with it for a key reason. Now is not the time to back out of anything as high profile as this event. Now is not the time to disappear from sight. Instead, we must follow through with all commitments, and show the world that, as Wenn’s CEO, you are not even flinching at the drop in Wenn’s stock. The party isn’t until eight. If Robert puts out feelers now, you’ll have a full morning and afternoon of interviews. The board will see that you’ve made a significant effort. They’ll be pleased that you did. They’ll see that you’re not taking this lying down. When you’re finished with the interviews, we’ll have something quick to eat, and then we’ll get ready for the party.”

  “With the entire board in town, you do realize that most—if not all—of them will be at Henri’s tonight? They’re all friends with him.” He rolled his eyes. “But who isn’t friends with that man?”

  “Well, he is likable. And he is Henri Dufort.”

  “True enough.”

  “You know, this party might be an opportunity.”

  “How so?”

  “What better way to gauge how people are feeling after seeing what the stock does today? I need you to get in front of this story again, Alex, because right now? In the business world? It’s the biggest story out there. You need to drive it the best way you can. Call Robert now and get him on it. Who gives a damn if he loses a bit of beauty sleep because of it? You certainly pay him enough. My recommendation is that you get him on the phone, and have him start to put things into motion in the next hour.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Great minds.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mrs. Wenn.”

  My heart warmed when he called me that because I knew that I’d never tire of hearing it. Whatever happened, I’d always have his back—and he would have mine. He was the love of my life, and I was damned if we were going to go down without a fight.

  “Funny,” I said with a kiss on his cheek. “That’s just what I was thinking, Mr. Wenn—only about you.”

  * * *

  When Alex was in the shower, my cell rang from the entryway, where I’d dropped my clutch the night before. I went to it, retrieved it, and saw that it was Blackwell.

  And how will your mood be today? I wondered.

  “Barbara—I’m surprised to hear from you.”

  “Like hell you are. You’ve been waiting me out.”

  “No I haven’t.”

  “Oh, the lies—the lies. They rain down on me like tears from a crocodile.”

  “I’m not lying. We’ve been a little busy over here.”

  “Getting busy?”

  “That’s not what I said, and you know it.” But I had to stifle a laugh and take a deep breath, knowing from that comment alone that we were going to be fine.

  Her tone softened. “So you have been busy,” she said. “Understood. Look, let’s just cut to it and put this nonsense behind us. I’m sorry we exchanged words yesterday. That wasn’t my intent. I think our emotions were running high, and I got carried away. I’m just concerned, Jennifer. That’s all. And it’s only compounded by the fact that Wenn’s stock hasn’t seen the jump I was hoping to see this morning, especially after the excellent press conference Alex gave.”

  “You mean the one that didn’t have the board’s full support?”

  “Yes, that one. The bastards. What do you and Alex have in mind for today?”

  “Alex has talked to Robert in PR, who is now lining up a slew of one-on-one interviews for him this morning and afternoon. It will help. And I agree. I’m also sorry—we’re too close to behave the way we did yesterday. I never should have walked out on you like that. I apologize.”

  “Well, at least you did it with panache.”

  “I was going for bravado.”

  “Oh, you had that, too. You swung that door like a champ, which naturally I respected. And I can’t blame you for doing so. Things became tense for good reasons, none of which were personal.”

  “All of that’s behind us now. It’s gone.”

  “Like an IQ point off a Kardashian, as if they can spare one. You know, a thought occurred to me just yesterday about those curvy little harlots. How in the hell do they wax down there? Or do they even bother? One can trim the grass, you know, but it’s a hell of a lot tougher to fell a forest. Still, they must do something since they’re found naked so often. But who has the verve to go through with it? Is there even enough wax to cut through all of that hair? Or have they had electrolysis? Their mother would have seen to that. So, I vote for the latter, though I can’t imagine the pain involved. Zap, zap, zap—times one billion.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “I’m just warming up.” She paused. “Can I tell you something?”

  “You can tell me anything.”

  “Maybe not this….”

  “Just spill it.”

  “I had a nightmare last night. It was as awful as last fall’s collection. I saw a meteor shower heading straight toward my head while I was at Wenn.”

  “Shall I refer to you now as Chicken Little?”

  “I’d prefer Little Roughage. Or Lotta Ice. That would be more appropriate.”

  “OK, Little Roughage, here’s my advice to you—stop dreaming.”

  “You’ll probably say that one day to your own child. You’ll probably steal away his or her dreams. Dampen them. Occlude them.”

  “Children are a ways off, so it’s best if you don’t worry about that now.”

  “You’ll crush them—I know it.”

  “Don’t make me laugh. Now isn’t the time. Alex is getting ready. I need to be serious.”

  And that’s when Blackwell became the maternal figure I knew so well. “There is always time for laughter, Jennifer. Never forget that. I’ve often said that our work saves us, and it does. But laughter also does, especially during the most difficult and trying of circumstances. So, on that note, we have a minor crisis on our hands.”

  “What crisis?”

  “The dress you’re wearing tonight. It’s all wrong.”

  For a moment, I just pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it in disbelief. This was what she was calling about? A dress? Really? Sometimes, just when I thought I understood Blackwell, she’d pull something like this out of her ass when a dress, of all things, should be the very last thing we were concerned about.

  “Since when does a dress constitute a crisis?”

  “Since Monica Lewinsky, for one. Oh, when will you ever learn the importance of fashion?” she said. “When will its importance ever sink into that head of yours?”

  “All right,” I said. “Fine. Hit me with its importance. What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the press who will be in attendance at Dufort’s party tonight. I had you wearing black. Black! Which now can be interpreted as ‘Death of Wenn’. But right now? In our situation? Black won’t do. You need something that doesn’t say ‘mourning’. You need something that says ‘confident.’ ‘Successful.’ ‘Powerful.’ You need to shine tonight. More than ever before, you need to look your best—your most radiant. You need to look the prettiest anyone has ever seen you, because—and don’t doubt me on this, girl—they’ll all be judging you. You can plan on that. They’ll be watching you and Alex, and looking for whatever cracks they can find. I’m not worried about Alex. He just needs to show up looking smashing in a tux. But you? You need to be a beacon of light. You need to slay every woman there. So, what are your plans for today?”

  “Why?”

  “Because we have to find you a new dress. A bright dress. A bright, bold, red dress. Something divoon
to the tenth power. You’ll also need new jewels. So either bring along your credit card, or I’ll bring my corporate card. Doesn’t matter. Wenn is Wenn—they’ll pay the bills. Have you eaten yet?”

  “No.”

  “Good! Don’t you dare eat. Not at all today. If you must, nibble on a raisin—but just one. And don’t you dare finish it!”

  “Seriously? You expect me not to eat for the entire day?”

  “I need you looking your best. Flat, flat, flat. Slim, slim, slim. If your tummy feels bloated, then eat a boatload of roughage and let nature take its course. That should clean you out. I’ve proved it to you before.”

  “I got almost no sleep last night, Barbara. How are the circles beneath my eyes going to help me look my best?”

  “Bernie is a magician. You know he has special powers. He’ll do his voodoo on you. He’ll say smoky words, cast melodic spells, and then he’ll eradicate any trace of fatigue from that face of yours.”

  “In other words, he’ll just use some kind of fancy concealer.”

  “Oh, how you diminish him!”

  “Are you jacked up on caffeine right now?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be—tonight is more critical than you think. When can I pick you up? Time is of the essence. I have an appointment for us at Bergdorf’s. They’re willing to open the store early just for us, but we need to move on it—before the others come.”

  “The others?”

  “The people,” she said. Her voice lowered a notch. “The tourists.”

  “You’re such a snob.”

  “I’m a businesswoman who understands that, even if we find the right dress, they’re still going to have to tailor it to fit that ass of yours. No small feat that. With your stature in this city now, don’t be surprised if you receive a note asking if your ass can be hoisted up at the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Hell, it could be a float at this point. When can you be ready?”

  “Ninety minutes.”

  “Make it sixty.”

  “But Alex is in the shower now.”

  “Oh, please. Oh, Maine. Then get in the shower with him—but for the love of all things Dior, just keep it to the soap. Now, get yourself ready. Wear something pretty that’s simple to slip out of. God knows how many dresses we’ll need to try on before we find the right one. And don’t you dare disappoint me—the press is going to be outside of your apartment the moment you leave. They’ll have cameras. They’ll snap photos of you. I want you looking smart and chic, and your face better match your look with full makeup and a contented smile. Are we good?”

  “We’re good.”

  “So, I’ll pick you up in sixty minutes?”

  “Seventy.”

  “Sixty.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you in an hour. But Barbara?”

  “What?”

  “You better have one massive cup of coffee in that car for me if you want me to get through the day.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  By the time Alex and I were preparing to leave, he already had heard from Robert, and the news was good.

  Five interviews were slated for morning, and three were scheduled for early afternoon. The Times was first, followed by the Journal and Bloomberg. Through their websites alone, they could change the course of today’s stock should it need it—especially if Alex kept on point and played this right, which I knew he could. What Alex needed to deliver to each outlet was a focus on all the potential growth and wealth that rested in Wenn’s near future.

  When he emerged from our bedroom and leaned into the doorway of our master bath, he was in a dark, charcoal gray suit with a white shirt and a blue tie. I thought that he looked perfect. I turned away from the mirror I’d been standing at, and took in the length of him. He was wearing the black Prada business shoes I’d purchased for him a few weeks ago, and his gleaming dark hair was parted on the side and slicked away from his forehead.

  On his face was his usual, disarming dust of stubble, and his blue-green eyes seemed especially bright, perhaps because he was on his game and knew that he was about to go to war. Looking at him now, he still had that ability to take my breath away, and so I let him take it from me. He knew that photos were coming the moment we stepped out of our apartment and then again when he arrived at Wenn, and he was nothing if not camera-ready. He looked like a damned model.

  “I could devour you right now,” I said.

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Is that so?”

  “You know what happens to me when I see you in a suit—especially a fitted suit. And then there’s that stubble of yours. And your dimples. It’s unfair.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to strive for equality later this evening.”

  I put my hand to my chest. “Mr. Wenn! I’m under your employ! Really!”

  He smiled at that. It was good to see him smile.

  “You look beautiful,” he said. “I couldn’t quite hear you in the shower when you were covered in suds and sputtering water out of your mouth like a fountain, so sorry for asking again, but where are you and Blackwell going?”

  “Apparently, we’re going to shop for a new dress that won’t make me look like somebody has turned me into Morticia Addams. Barbara thought that black would look too dour at this point, and so she wants something bolder. Something red. As far as she sees it, each of us is supposed to make a statement tonight that suggests we’re so unfazed by everything that’s happening that we’ve become Teflon.”

  “To be fair, she does have a point.”

  “I know she does. And so guess what? She and I are going to shop.”

  “Get whatever you need.”

  “You might regret saying that later.”

  He came forward, took me in his arms, and kissed me on the neck. “Anything you need,” he said in my ear. “You’ll always have anything you need from me.”

  “The thing is, all I want is you.”

  “Oddly, all I want is the same—just you.” He shrugged at me. “Look at us. An old married couple already.”

  “We are not old. Though I will say that our connection is old. And that, in a universal sense, our love is old. I feel as if I’ve known you my entire life. How is that? How can that be?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “I’ve wondered that myself, but I don’t have an answer.”

  “So, it is what it is.”

  “It is indeed, Mrs. Wenn. And how lucky are we?”

  I checked my makeup in the mirror a final time, finished with a swipe of red lipstick, and then placed the palm of my hand against his cheek. “I love you, Alex,” I said. “More than you’ll ever know. Are you sure you don’t need me today? You said in the shower that you didn’t, but God knows I have plenty of other dresses that I can wear tonight. I can always cancel on Blackwell, and wear something else that’s already been fitted to me.”

  “And have Blackwell see you photographed in the same thing twice? She’d slap me for that. I’m fine. Before yesterday’s press conference, you gave me the very direction I plan to take today.”

  “Where is Wenn’s stock now?”

  “We’re up a point.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  “Hear, hear.”

  “Would you do something for me tonight?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want you to personally introduce me to the three members of the board who didn’t stand up with you yesterday. Will you do that?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to meet them.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “You know me too well.”

  “So, what’s the reason?”

  “In a crunch, I can turn on the charm, Alex, even for that snake Stephen Rowe. Tonight, my mission is to win over all of them. And I will.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m just going to speak their language. And if you don’t mind, I’m also going to have a dance or two with each of them, starting with Rowe.”

  * * *
>
  When we left the building, the press was indeed waiting for us. Alex and I gave each other a quick kiss on the lips while cameras flashed, and then we moved in separate directions toward the two limousines that waited for us at the curbside.

  Tank was standing outside of Alex’s car. I gave him a wink, which he returned with a discreet nod. Cutter was standing outside of mine, ready to open my door. As the crowd closed in with cameras snapping and reporters shouting questions at Alex and me, I kept my focus on Cutter’s reassuring gaze as he opened the door for me.

  I answered none of their questions. Instead, I slipped inside where Blackwell already sat at my right with a look of concern on her face. I looked ahead of us to make certain that Alex had gotten safely into his own car.

  “He’s fine,” Blackwell said. She placed her hand on my knee. “He’s inside—he’s safe. And by the way, you both just handled that beautifully.”

  “I’m flying blind,” I said. “Alex is the pro.”

  “Don’t undercut yourself, my dear. You see very well.”

  I looked at her. She was wearing a light blue Chanel suit, dark glasses, and understated daytime jewelry. Her legs were crossed at the knee, and in her hand was a large cup of coffee, which she handed to me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Well, you did demand it.”

  “I just—”

  “You probably would have harangued me if I hadn’t brought the coffee—which, by the way, is black. No cream. No sugar. No calories.”

  “You’re too much.”