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

by Christina Ross

  Diana Crane snagged the remote, clicked a few buttons, and without warning, all of us were suddenly looking at Janice Jones, standing in a black suit behind a dark podium in front of the Time Warner Center, which housed CNN’s New York headquarters.

  Her blonde hair was pulled off her shoulders, and it gleamed in the sun. Her head was lowered and she was looking over what appeared to be some notes. Photographs were being taken of her, which lit up the skin on her face.

  In an incredulous voice, Diana said, “That’s the woman from the video…”

  “It’s Janice Jones,” Alex said. “So you see, Diana, the woman is real.”

  Beneath Jones’ face were these words: “Breaking News: Wenn Enterprises Faces Latest Blow.”

  “My God,” I said as realization struck. “She didn’t answer or return our calls on purpose. She decided to bypass us. To forfeit the money. She decided to go rogue. But why?”

  “Apparently, to get revenge on her own terms,” Blackwell said. “And without any amount of money tied to it. Now, turn up the volume. The press conference only started a moment ago. I had to hustle to get down here before all of you missed it. Listen to what she’s saying, especially you, Stephen, because it’s all about you.”

  The room fell into a dark silence as Janice Jones spoke—and Stephen Rowe, rocked by the sudden change of events, became visibly pale as she turned the focus to her relationship with him.

  “My relationship with Mr. Rowe began two years ago,” Jones said to the cameras. “I’m coming forward with the truth of our affair not only out of concern for his wife, Meredith, who deserves to know who her husband really is, but also because I need to take responsibility for my own actions. And there’s another reason. An equally important reason, because it involves the public.”

  “How?” a reporter called out.

  At first, Jones didn’t speak—she had no experience dealing with the ebbs and flows of a press conference, and the question caught her off guard. She looked up and into the crowd, her lips parted slightly, but then she just shook her head as if to collect herself as an older, beautifully suited gentleman put his hand on her shoulder and told her to go on.

  “Who is that man beside her?” I asked.

  “Looks to me as if Janice Jones has lawyered up,” Alex said.

  “Listen!” Blackwell hissed.

  Jones took a breath. “The public has invested billions of dollars into Wenn Enterprises, and if I’m to do anything right after causing a woman and her children such hardship through my own selfish mistakes, the least I can do now is to warn investors of the character of the person who is leading Wenn Enterprises now. That person is Stephen Rowe, who was voted in as CEO and chairman of the board when it was believed that Alexander Wenn and others had died when their plane crashed onto that south Pacific island. Of course, we all know that there were indeed survivors, Mr. Wenn and his wife, Jennifer, being among them. What investors and the public need to know about Stephen Rowe is that he’s a dangerous man. This morning, after a heated telephone conversation between us that went horribly wrong, he threatened to kill me. I had an idea that our conversation wouldn’t go well, so I recorded it. For obvious reasons, I’m happy that I did, just as I’m happy that I’ve since involved the police. Before this press conference began, I gave the police a copy of that recording. It’s now in their hands and it’s up to them what they’ll do with it, though I doubt that it will lead to anything good for Stephen Rowe. After my conversation with the police, I understand that threatening a person’s life is a criminal offense.”

  When Jones said that, a flurry of cameras started to go off, and she appeared to disappear in the sudden glare of the bright light.

  “Tell me that none of this is true, Stephen,” Diana Crane said.

  Before he could answer, Jones continued. “There’s more,” she said. “An hour ago, my lawyers disseminated to the New York Times, CNN, all major news networks, the Wall Street Journal, USA Today, the Associated Press, and dozens of other media outlets, the reasons why Stephen Rowe said that he would kill me if I ever released certain things about him that I have in my possession. While I know that those things will destroy him—and while I understand that the public will forever view me as a home wrecker—I still stand here a human being who refuses to be threatened, particularly when that threat might end with my own life. And so to you, Stephen, if you’re out there watching this, you need to know this—I no longer have those items in my possession, including the sex tape you were so concerned about. Every bit of incriminating evidence I’ve built up against you is now with my lawyers and with members of the media, who will soon make all of it available for public ridicule and comment.”

  For a moment, she lifted her head and glanced out at the crowd in front of her, her gaze sweeping over a sea of faces we couldn’t see.

  “For two years, Stephen Rowe told me that he loved me and that he wanted to marry me, and yet, this morning, he nevertheless said that he would kill me if I didn’t keep quiet about everything I knew about him. While I always wanted to believe that one day Stephen and I would get married, a part of me never really did believe it, as much as that hurt. As for his threat to murder me? Given the tone of his voice, I believed that at once. That man was serious when he said that to me.” She collected her note cards and stacked them in front of her. “Thank you all for coming. And for listening. It’s my wish that I’ve done some good here today. Thank you.”

  And with that, one of Jones’ lawyers took her by the arm, whisked her away from the podium, and led her into the lobby of the Time Warner Center, where they likely had planned a quick escape.

  Or, perhaps even an interview that would air during the evening news.

  “Alex, I’m sorry,” Diana said.

  But Alex didn’t answer her.

  “I also have to apologize,” Mike Fine said.

  But Alex ignored him as well.

  “We need to act now with a vote of no confidence,” Jonathan Rubinstein said. “In that wake of that press conference, the public needs to know that we’ve taken immediate action. If the board will permit me, I will temporarily speak for all of us.” He paused for a moment, looked around the room, and then went forward when no one disagreed. “Those in favor of immediately removing Stephen Rowe as CEO and chairman of the board at Wenn Enterprises say ‘aye.’”

  Everyone concurred.

  “Those in favor of reinstating Alexander Wenn as CEO and chairman of the board of Wenn Enterprises also say ‘aye.’”

  “Aye,” everyone said.

  “Now get out,” I said to Rowe. “Get out before I call security on your ass.”

  “Go to hell,” he said to me. “And fuck the rest of you.”

  “Somebody call security,” Diana said. “It would be a mistake to allow this one to have access to his office. He doesn’t leave this room without an escort.”

  “I’ll call,” Blackwell said. “With pleasure.”

  But before she could pluck her cell from her jacket pocket, a knock came at the door, which Blackwell turned to and opened. And there stood two police officers—each in their mid-thirties, both dark, handsome, and built—with Julie Hardwood and Ann standing just behind them. One asked if Stephen Rowe was in the room. When Blackwell said that he was, they asked if she would please step aside.

  “Anything for law enforcement,” she said.

  One of the men looked for Rowe, found him at the end of the table, and said, “Stephen Rowe?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  One of the officers started to move toward him.

  “You are under arrest for issuing a criminal threat—”

  “For issuing a what?”

  “A criminal threat that we have on record, Mr. Rowe. I need you to stand for me now,” the officer said.

  “I have done nothing of the sort!”

  “I need you on your feet so I can cuff you, Mr. Rowe,” the officer said. “If you refuse to stand, I will need to assist you. It�
��s your choice.”

  The moment Rowe stood, the officer turned him around and quickly secured his hands behind his back with shiny silver cuffs. The sight of it was thrilling—just when I thought we’d lost, we’d won.

  “Somebody get my lawyer on the phone!” Rowe demanded.

  “Call him from your jail cell,” I said to him. “Because no one here gives a damn about you, Stephen. You’ve broken the law, Wenn has severed its ties with you, and now you’re on your own.”

  “The television,” Blackwell said, looking at it. “That’s our building on the screen. Already, journalists are starting to gather outside. The media are lying in wait for him.”

  “They’re going to hang you, Stephen,” I said as he was led past me.

  “They’re going to do worse than that,” Blackwell said, her eyes fixed on the crowds. “They’re about to slay him.”

  “How does it feel, Stephen?” Alex said as Rowe closed the distance between them. “To know that you’ve been found out? To know that life, as you know it, is over?”

  “My life is far from over, motherfucker.”

  “Really? I think you’re about to find out otherwise.”

  Before Rowe could say anything more, the officers pressed him out of the room. Alex nodded for Ann to come inside and join us, and then he told Julie Hardwood that he’d need to have a word with her in a moment.

  “Don’t waste your time,” she said as she backed away from him and moved toward her desk to gather her handbag. “I know what you’re going to do, but I’m not going to give you the pleasure of doing it. I quit.”

  “Another one down,” Blackwell said lightly. “They’re practically falling like flies around here today—and that one surely is going to land on the first pile of shit she sees. Now, watch the screen,” she said to all of us. “He should be coming out soon.”

  In anticipation for what was to come, everyone turned to the television, waiting for the moment when Rowe would be ushered out of Wenn and released to the pack of wolves waiting on the sidewalk for him.

  “Ann?” Diana said.

  “Yes, Ms. Cain?”

  “After the pending theatrics have blown over, which we’d never deny you the pleasure of seeing, please notify Bob in PR to immediately put forward a press release stating that in the wake of these new allegations, Stephen Rowe has been fired from Wenn, and that Alexander Wenn has replaced him as Wenn’s new CEO and chairman of the board. The release will need to go through legal before it comes to the board for final approval. Once we approve it, Bob can send it out after noting any changes we might have. Would you take care of that for us?”

  “Of course. And thank you for letting me stay,” she said.

  “Our pleasure. I understand you've had your own dealings with Mr. Rowe. So, please enjoy.”

  When Rowe finally came out of the building and into view, he looked disheveled, overwhelmed, angry, and humiliated. The crowd of reporters rushed toward him, pressed around him in a circle, and then consumed him in such a way that they seemed to swallow him up as he faded from sight. It was as if the city Rowe once believed he ruled had just eaten him up in an effort to strip the meat off his bones.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” I said.

  “Oh, please,” Blackwell said. “Live long enough, darling, and you won’t believe the things you’ll see. I mean, look at that—it’s like a witch hunt, only without someone tossing in the first match to finish him off.” Her eyes popped when she said that, and then she turned to me. “Perhaps I should go outside and offer a match of my own? You’d join me, wouldn’t you, Jennifer? You’d throw in the second match, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. I know you would!”

  “I’d be happy to help,” I said. “But first, I need to do this.”

  I walked over to Alex and threw my one good arm around his neck. For a long, lingering moment, we just looked into each other’s eyes. Then, I told him that I loved him, he said the same to me, and we sealed one of the greatest triumphs of our lives by planting one mother of a kiss on each other’s lips while the entire room watched.

  EPILOGUE

  One month later

  It was on a Saturday night—the Fourth of July, in fact—when Alex and I decided it was high time to take a break from all that Wenn had been through in the wake of the Rowe scandal, and have a dinner party in our penthouse that would bring together our closest friends, most of whom had either survived with us on that island or had assisted us in taking down Rowe.

  The past month had been a grueling feat of PR that had worked to lift Wenn’s stock, but only because Rowe had been terminated so quickly from Wenn—which investors responded positively to, as they did to the decision to put Alex back into his former positions as CEO and chairman of the board. It took time, but gradually the stock rebounded, though not without one heroic fight on everyone’s part.

  Especially Alex’s.

  Once again, Alex had to go in front of the media and give a multitude of interviews, all in an effort to reassure investors—and those critical journalists who reported on big business—that Wenn was now fully back in his control, and that it would continue to prosper under his direction as it had since the day he first took the company under his wing.

  With the exception of our time on the island, when I’d seen Alex at his most desperate and stressed, what he went through to convince the business media and investors that Wenn would rise again with Rowe out of the picture was the most grueling thing I’d ever seen him go through.

  But he’d done it, just as I knew he would. To top it off, Rowe had been arrested. His wife, Meredith, had paid his bail—and then she quickly and quietly began divorce proceedings against him.

  Rowe had yet to go in front of a judge, but that day was coming. And when it did come, he would face three possibilities for verbally threatening Janice Jones’ life—one to five years in jail, a fine that could go into the tens of thousands, or probation. Since he’d hired one of the city’s best defense lawyers, it was unlikely that he’d go to jail, but that really didn’t matter to me. All I wanted was what already was happening—the continued devastation of that man’s reputation in this city and around the world.

  Now, before out guests arrived, our penthouse was alive with activity. The kitchen had been commandeered by the catering company we’d hired, and in the dining room, the serving staff I’d secured from a nearby company was busy putting the final touches in place on the table, which seated twelve and was placed alongside a wall of windows that overlooked the New York skyline. Later, they’d also serve our guests drinks and hors d’oeuvres when they arrived. Martinis were chilling in the freezer. Champagne was cooling in the refrigerator. A few bottles of red wine had been opened to breathe.

  As for Alex and I, we were in the throes of getting ready for the night ahead of us. For Alex, that simply meant showering and putting on a suit. But for me? Let’s just say that with my sling long gone, I at least had the use of my right arm again, so with the skills I’d learned from Blackwell and Bernie at the ready, I was able to pull myself together in ways that I thought would satisfy both of them.

  I wore my hair as my husband liked it—tumbling down my back in a cascade of dark brown curls. My makeup was fresh and bright, though since I knew that Blackwell would want a trace of drama, I went for a bold red lip. For a dress, I chose something black and simple from Dior. For shoes, I wore a pair of to-die-for black Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps with a four-inch heel, and I accentuated the look with diamonds at my neck, wrists, and fingers.

  “How are you doing?” Alex asked from the bedroom.

  “Almost finished. I just need a bit of eyeliner, and then I’m good to go.”

  “They’ll be here soon.”

  “I’m on it.”

  When I was finished, I assessed myself in the mirror in front of me, and then stepped into the bedroom where I met Alex. I found him wearing a dark gray pinstripe suit with a bright white button-front shirt and a matching deep silver tie. />
  I just looked at him.

  “How about this?” I suggested. “Why don’t we just cancel the party and get straight to it,” I said. “The bed is right there, after all. You know perfectly well that I can’t handle seeing you like that. In a fitted suit. And with all that thick growth of stubble on your face. Not to mention the way you’re looking at me right now. It’s too much.”

  He put his hands in his pockets and just grinned at me. “But you see me like this practically every day.”

  “During the day, we have work to attend to. But at night? Let’s just say that with you looking like this, this girl’s motor is already in overdrive.”

  He came over and took me into his arms. “How about if I tend to that motor later?”

  “I can feel you against me, Alex, which isn’t exactly helping matters considering what you’ve got between your legs. All I have to say is that you better make sure you eat well tonight, because when our guests leave and we’re alone? I’m expecting an Olympic event.”

  “Done,” he said.

  In the foyer, our intercom buzzed.

  “Here we go,” I said. “People are showing up. You talk into the buzzer. I’ll make sure that the staff is ready. Drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and conversation first—then dinner. Same game plan, right?” I raised my eyebrows at him. “And you know what I mean by that. Have you had second thoughts? Do you still want to go there?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. And then he kissed me on my mouth. “I love you, Jennifer. I love you for your fire. I love you for your tenacity. I love you because you are my best friend, my confidant, my wife, and my lover. I don’t think you’ll ever know just how much I cherish you. For a lot of reasons, tonight is going to be a night to remember.” He kissed me gently on the lips. “In fact, tonight is going to make a lot of people very happy.”