by Claire Adams
"Speaking of coffee, I just happened to go by your favorite place, and mocha was on special." Tasha pushed the cup she had been holding towards Otto.
"Now you?" Otto asked. He took the cup, sipped it, and shook his head. "Throwing your money around like it's confetti, eh, Ms. Nichols?"
"Don't worry, I won't lose my head," Tasha said.
"Pity. If anyone deserves to let loose, it's you," Otto said. "What's your sister say about all this?"
Tasha laughed, a lovely relaxed lilt that I had never heard before. "Is she checking up on me?"
"The orange trees." Otto nodded over to the large planters and lush indoor trees. "She spent one afternoon here, and they've never looked better in their lives."
"Barbie's not impressed. You know her." Tasha caught sight of me and stood up.
Otto shifted too, turning his bull-like frame. He glanced from me back to Tasha, and one eyebrow quirked up. "Well, you listen to your sister. Never met a more level-headed lady. She's going to make a wonderful mama."
My phone burst out with the urgent staccato rhythm Topher had programmed as his ring. I almost dropped the damn thing and fumbled to hit ignore. Once the call was sent to voice mail, I raised it to my ear and pretended to listen. I had learned more about Tasha in two minutes of eavesdropping than I had in a year and I wasn't ready to be interrupted.
Otto raised his other dark eyebrow at me. "Come on, Ms. Nichols; let's get you to the elevator."
"What's with the special treatment?" Tasha asked.
Otto lumbered out from behind the security desk and hooked one hand into his belt next to his gun. The other arm raised up to direct and shield Tasha. "I got my orders, and you've got a lot of extra attention this morning."
I trailed after them to the elevator bank, sure the security guard was clocking my every step even though his back was to me. Otto towered above the crowd of suits at the elevator bank, and they all shifted aside as he moved Tasha through to the front. Jim gave a grim nod from the now-crowded coffee bar, but Otto did not leave Tasha's side until the elevator doors opened.
"Morning, Mr. Maxwell," Otto said as I slipped around him and into the elevator next to Tasha.
He'd never spoken to me before, and the greeting was an intimidating mix of warning and something else. His stony stare charged me with keeping our girl safe. I nodded to him and fought the urge to tug at my tight collar. The head of security's sharp perceptions were unnerving.
The elevator doors slid closed, and James Berger let out a whistle. "Ms. Nichols, you are looking sharp today."
Tasha gave him an arched look and said, "Thank you."
I bristled as James' eyes roamed over her. I shifted in the crowded elevator so that my back blocked James. Tasha glanced up at me with a frown. The move was too proprietary, and James was already giving his cronies speculative looks.
"New clothes?" I asked Tasha. "Let me guess: that's as wild as you got with your windfall. I bet the rest is waiting for your new financial advisor to ferret it all away."
"What's wrong with that?" Tasha asked.
I shrugged as James and his cronies chuckled. "Nothing. Just kind of boring, don't you think? Now, if you want to really know how to act like a billionaire, I'm willing to give lessons."
"Well, I'm not willing to lower my standards," Tasha said. The elevator doors opened as if on cue, and she swept out and down the office hallway.
James snorted with laughter. "Losing your edge there, old man. And here I thought your fat bank account was going to make you unstoppable with the ladies."
"That's the Ice Queen," one of the junior executives said. "Rainer just needs to turn up the heat a bit."
"Wanna bet?" James asked.
I left them outside the elevator, placing their bets. I actually had to jog down the hallway to catch up with Tasha. "Tasha, hold up," I called.
She glanced over her shoulder, her coppery curls bouncing. "If it's not about work, I'm not stopping," she said.
"It is, I swear," I said, catching hold of her bare shoulder. My mind went blank.
Tasha shrugged away from my hand and tapped a high-heel as she waited. "Well? What work have you been doing already this morning?"
The thought of Sheila, the interior designer, and her delectable view flashed through my head. Normally, my mind would have detoured off into enjoyable daydreams, but today it hummed with only one thought. Tasha. The whole empty interlude, the first like that that I had ever turned down, was nothing compared to Tasha's dark-brown eyes and the satin of her bare skin. I could still feel the heat of her on my fingertips.
"Tying a few things up at home," I said. "Did I tell you I bought a new house?"
"Really, Rainer, we don't have time for this. You do remember we have an early meeting with Stan, I mean, Mr. Eastman. Right?" Tasha asked.
Another person she was on a first-name basis with, except he was the Chief Operating Officer of our whole damn company. I blinked as a few far-fetched rumors caught traction in my head. "You and Mr. Eastman? Are you two close?" I asked.
Tasha whipped around and marched towards her office. Again I had to race to catch up. I reached out for her silken, bare shoulder, but she rounded on me and jabbed a finger into my chest.
"I'm not going to catch you up every day, Rainer. This is your project now, and I expect you to do your share," Tasha said.
I caught her jabbing finger and held her hand as long as she would let me. "Catch me up on what?"
Tasha yanked her hand free. "Of course you don't know. We're facing a public relations nightmare of epic proportions, the whole project is in jeopardy, and you, of all people, don't have a clue."
My hand went to the pocket that held my phone. Topher had been calling all morning, and I hadn't checked a single message. My email inbox was jammed full, but I had been too distracted learning that Tasha had a pregnant sister. "I'll know soon enough," I pointed out.
"GroGreen is under attack for encouraging people to skip the real gardening and just sit on their couches. We're being charged in the court of public opinion for adding to the U. S. obesity problem. Our app has been downgraded to nothing but a silly game."
I groped for Tasha's hand again, and this time she didn't pull away. "Are you serious?" I asked.
My assistant, Topher, came rushing up. "Mr. Maxwell, I've been looking all over for you. Did you get my messages? My emails? My. . . Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."
I ignored Topher's preoccupation with our interlaced hands and tugged Tasha towards her office. Her assistant, a vacant-smiling temp, glanced up serenely. "Hello, Ms. Nicholas."
"It's Nichols, Amy. My name is Ms. Nichols," Tasha said.
"Sure, right. Would you like some coffee?"
Tasha's hand slipped from mine as Topher and I gaped at the useless assistant. It was clear at that moment that any work Tasha did, the amazing work she did for Hyperion, was completely on her own. While I sat in an office with a view, letting my overeager assistant organize everything for me, Tasha worked alone with her back turned to the gray-brick view behind her.
"Ms. Nichols, I have the latest reports," Topher said. He rushed after her into her cramped office.
I ignored the flirty smile from the useless temp and followed my assistant. He was right to aim his hard work at Tasha, and, for once, I was glad I had something to offer her.
"If Hyperion can't recover from the bad press, it will encourage lawsuits, and the company will have to freeze the assets gained from the app sales," Topher said.
"We'll lose our bonuses?" I asked.
"That's all you care about, isn't it?" Tasha asked. She crossed her arms and leaned on her utilitarian desk. "Your billions are safe; it's just the company's name, reputation, and our professional respect that is at risk."
She thought that I didn't care about anything but my bank account. Neither she, nor my assistant, could hear the nagging voices in my head. It wouldn't matter how much money I had made, how I had secured the Maxwell fortune for generati
ons to come. If my work lost the respect of everyone, the whole nation from what Topher was saying, then my family would never let me forget it.
"The only thing I care about is what we're going to do next," I said.
Chapter Seven
Tasha
Rainer was not taking the hint. I wanted him to leave, to disappear down the long corridor that leads to the better offices and let me get ready for the meeting. I thought standing with my hands on my hips, elbows out, would have stopped him in my office doorway, but he had other plans. Rainer hooked one arm gracefully around my stiff elbow and tucked me close as he escorted me inside. Topher jumped at the chance to follow, but Rainer shut the door in his eager face.
"I'm serious, Tasha," Rainer said. "We need to come up with a plan right now for how to fix this."
"You don't even really know what 'this' is," I said. I untangled myself from his arm and stalked around to the other side of my desk. "Why don't you go to your office and let your assistant catch you up?"
Rainer flat out ignored my hint and settled in the chair closest to my desk. He stretched out his long legs, checked his shiny shoes for smudges, and then laced his fingers together over his stomach. "What's to catch up on? The app was a success, now its detractors are getting traction, and we have a public relations problem to fix. So, the big question is not 'what happened,' but 'what are we going to do now?'"
I thought about marching to my office door and yanking it open, but even then I was sure Rainer would find a way to stay. He lounged back and watched me with those eyes, searching my face as if he was going to read the solution there. The real problem was I had an idea.
"What do you think we should do?" I asked.
Rainer raised an eyebrow. "I thought I wasn't qualified to think about it, seeing as I'm not all caught up yet."
I dropped into my office chair and glared at him. "So, I'll take that as a 'no?' No bright ideas yet?"
"Yet being the operative word," Rainer said. He leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling.
I cringed at the water spot that had been spreading, ignored by maintenance, and tried to stay focused. It didn't help that Rainer made even my scratchy office chairs look sinfully comfortable. How did he look so relaxed, so sure? I hated myself for finding his confidence so sexy.
I jumped a foot off my chair when my office door popped open and Amy trotted in. "Ms. Nichols? I wanted to let you know that you have a morning meeting with, ah, Mr. Eastman?"
"Is that a question or a reminder?" Rainer asked.
Amy's eyes took in every inch of my handsome co-worker before I cleared my throat and interrupted her obvious thoughts. "Thank you, Amy, but in the future, I do not need reminders about things I've put on the calendar myself."
Amy shrugged. "Sure. It was his idea, really."
Rainer's assistant glared at her from the hallway. Then he shot me a hopeful look, and I had no choice but to nod. He rushed inside, clutching a sheaf of papers. "I just thought you, oh, and Mr. Maxwell, would like to see the latest reports."
"What was your name again?" I asked though I knew full well the answer.
"Topher, Ms. Nichols. I've been Mr. Maxwell's assistant for two years, and before that, I was with Mr. Anderson in the research department." Topher was too excited to sit still.
"Is it good news?" I asked.
Topher realized his inappropriate excitement and handed the papers over with a bright blush.
Rainer laughed. "My assistant is just happy to be of service. Guess I don't work him hard enough."
"There are already reports of schools banning the app, parent groups are speaking out about it, and the American Medical Association is already planning a press release about it," Topher said.
"And I, like, heard there's going to be a skit about it on Saturday Night Live," Amy added.
I reached for a pen on my desk and gripped it hard. "And none of these groups are making any mention of the app's other uses? No one is talking about the integrated reminders, the routine suggestions, or the seasonal tasks?"
"It's just a game," Amy said. Then she caught everyone's look and shrugged again. "A really fun game. My garden has a fairy castle built into the fountain. I just need to collect a few more seeds before I get to start seeing fairies."
"Oh, yeah," Rainer said. "I forgot about the interactive reality component. I love that you can get alerts on your phone and find fairies all around town."
"I'm glad you at least know a few of the product details," I said.
Rainer sat up in one fluid move. "And you didn't know what exactly we were up against until I initiated this little meeting."
"Your assistant should really get the credit," I said.
Topher went beet red and retreated for the door. Amy didn't want to follow but finally responded to Topher's loud whispered advice. She left the door open, but Rainer didn't make any move to follow them.
"You're really hung up on who gets credit, aren't you?" Rainer asked.
I folded my hands on my desk though my fingers itched to curl into fists. "I've learned that stealing credit is the easiest way for lazy, uninformed, and unfit junior executives to get ahead in this company. In any company, for that matter."
"But you're still willing to give credit to your team first."
I felt my chin ratcheted up a notch. "Yes."
"Good." Rainer got up and adjusted his bright cuff links. "We're going to need the whole team to fix this bad press. I've already been on camera, I'm already associated with the app, so I'm willing to step up and give a statement."
"You're going to try to be the scapegoat for our whole app team?" I asked.
Rainer chuckled. "No, that implies there's something we should take the blame for. Let's stick with credit over blame. Now, what should I say?"
I checked my watch and stood up. "We don't have time to decide that. The meeting with Stan is in ten minutes. Oh, no!"
"What? What is it?" Rainer asked, holding out a hand to me.
"I just realized that we need to compare all the information highlighted by the media before this trend started. Do you think your assistant could pull those press releases, headlines, and reviews for me? I mean, us?"
Rainer paused by my office door with a gallant gesture for me to go first. "I'll swing by Topher's desk and meet you in Stan's office."
We left Amy chewing on a pen cap while combing social media. I turned back, as if to instruct my hopeless assistant, and Rainer strode off towards his office. As soon as he was past the water cooler, I took off for Stan's office. My breakneck pace did not stop for questions, concerns, or even belated congratulations. I burst into the stairwell and took the steps at a fast trot. I couldn't risk getting held up by the other junior executives in the elevators.
"Did you run all the way up here?" Stan rocked back in his leather chair as I shut the door behind me and took a second to catch my breath.
I nodded and held up a hand to stop his laughter. "With good reason," I said.
"Where's Rainer? I thought you two might come up together," Stan said.
"What? No. Why would you think we were together?"
Stan scrubbed a hand over his chin but did not try to cover up his grin. "No reason. Just a thought. Don't get me wrong, I love a little alone time with you. It does wonders for my reputation. They keep hoping I'm going to lie down and take retirement easily, but you make me seem energetic and full of life."
"I thought you were trying to be a feminist," I said.
"Speaking of women's equality," Stan said, "I know exactly why you are here and I've got to say, I'm surprised at you."
I pushed away from the door and approached his desk with caution. "You know my concern?"
Stan sighed. "You already have an idea about how to fix this whole public relations debacle, but you don't want to share credit with Rainer. You think he's just hanging around to steal what he can of your good work. Does that about cover it?"
I sunk into one of the polished, wing-backed chairs th
at faced Stan's immense desk. "What's so wrong with that? I work hard, and I can't let some other junior executive like Rainer just trample all over me."
"So, instead, you're letting him dictate your reactions and become someone you're not?" Stan leaned forward. "Tasha, darling, you are the best damn team manager I've ever seen. It's the secret to your success. You know, better than anyone, how to create a strong team. And it isn't by worrying about who gets the credit."
I slumped back. "I just get tired of seeing people promoted before me."
"I thought you would have had Rainer's number by now," Stan said.
My cheeks got hot. "Why would I need his number? He won't leave me alone at work."
Stan grinned. "I meant figuratively. Does Rainer strike you as a man who wants the full weight of leadership?"
I thought about Rainer, trying to brush past all the physical traits he had that distracted me: long legs, flat stomach, broad shoulders, strong jaw, that devil-may-care smile, those blue eyes. . . I cleared my throat. "I thought he was just in it for the money. Maybe a little glory."
"Exactly," Stan said. "So, stop thinking of him as the competition. He's on your side."
Stan's phone rang and he pressed the speaker button with a flourish. "Send him in, Jean."
Rainer thanked Stan's secretary and sauntered into his office. He was surprised to see me already there, but he masked it well. "Mr. Eastman, I hope I'm not late. Here is that report you wanted, Ms. Nichols."
Stan studied each of us in turn as Rainer handed me the tight packet of papers, smiled at me, then sat down. "Seems to me we're all in the same foxhole here, so let's dispense with the formalities and stick with first names. Shall we?" Stan asked.
I suppressed a groan as the men shook on it. It made me edgy to see my mentor so friendly with Rainer. And why did Stan keep smiling like that?
"Well, Stan," Rainer said, "let me start by assuring you that I am all caught up on the latest reports. Tasha here was nice enough to suggest I start with the timeline of media statements. See when they really started turning on us."