by Kimber Chin
Especially since there wasn't anything left stopping them from reaching that logical conclusion. After tonight, their business relationship was messed up, ruined beyond redemption, Philippe telling her in not so many words that Anne's clients wouldn't be able to pitch to him.
And she had done this, for what? A fleeting relationship? Some hot sex? Was that a big enough payoff? Was that fair to her business? It's not that she didn't know what she was doing; she did. Even Nancy warned her. Nancy. Blast it, but her partner wouldn't be too happy with Anne's lack of willpower. The thought of explaining the situation to Nancy made Anne's black mood even darker, shredding the last remnants of romance. Anne didn't bother to try to put the pieces back together again.
She rose, ignoring Philippe's raised eyebrow, and searched for her clothes, flung around the living room during her first and last striptease attempt. Anne couldn't see Philippe to the door in her stocking and heels. No, she wasn't yet that brazen. Anne slipped on her suit, not bothering with the undergarments.
"Cherie?"
She didn't answer, tossing Philippe his clothes as she ran across them. He wisely didn't ask again, dressing quietly.
Finally fully clothed, Philippe stood at the door with his arms crossed, watching Anne warily. He looked confused. Indulging her terrible mood, she didn't enlighten him.
"Guess I'm done here,” he had the nerve to say. What had wrapped up? A business meeting?
"Guess so.” Anne opened the door.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Eight
Anne could have finessed the confession, spinning it into a positive rather than a negative. It was doable. She was a skilled salesperson and Nancy was an easy prospect, one she knew well. Anne didn't bother.
"Nance, we can't pitch plans to Lamont in the future."
"Really.” Her friend sipped her very healthy glass of milk. “And why's that?"
Anne fiddled with the remains of her garden salad, chasing a piece of lettuce around her plate. “It's gotten personal."
"No, Annie!” Nancy's eyes grew big. “Tell me you didn't."
Oh, yes, she did and it couldn't be any less professional. Philippe was a crucial part of their business. Now, Anne's actions had cost the company money, cost her good friend money. “I'm so sorry Nancy, I couldn't resist him."
"Well, let's be honest,” the redhead clucked. “Who could? Even Stanley with his crazy high standards was halfway in love with Philippe by the end of dinner. You've lusted after the man much longer."
"I haven't lusted after him,” Anne started to protest. Nancy's reprimanding look forced her to admit, “Okay, maybe a little, but Nancy, be serious, we won't be able to target him any more."
"That isn't because you did the nasty with him. Think Annie. You're the strategy woman. Did you believe Lamont would allow us to sell to him? You'll have spent three months as an insider."
"Well.” A tiny part of Anne did. A part of her hoped it would go back to business as usual.
"He's not an idiot, Annie. He's what you call a bastard, remember? Cutthroat and business savvy. Too savvy to allow your entrepreneur an unfair advantage."
Anne's shoulders slumped. She secretly wished that Nancy disagreed with her conclusion. “He's a big part of our business, Nance."
"Because you focused on him. If you focused on some other V.C, they'll become as big a part of our business, maybe even bigger."
"I suppose.” The thought of doing all that groundwork on someone else, someone other than Philippe didn't appeal to Anne. There was no one quite like him.
"Well, what's done is done, as you always say. Our little Annie with Philippe Lamont, imagine that! So spill it girl. How was it?” Nancy grinned. “Is it true that he can go for hours, making women howl for mercy?” Some of Philippe's ex-girlfriends were quite loose lipped about his sexual prowess, contributing heavily to the Lamont legend.
"Nancy!” Anne protested, her face flaming at her friend's crudeness. And then she thought about it a little more. Hours? Not hours. He was skilled, there was no doubt about that, but he didn't last that long.
"Okay, okay. I'll be kind and not dig for details,” her friend relented. “But Annie, sweetie, play safe. Promise me you won't get in too deep.” She grasped Anne's hand. “You know what Lamont is like."
"I know.” Yeah, Anne knew only too well what he was like, never long with any woman, no matter how glamorous, no matter how sophisticated.
"As long as you know.” Her friend's voice was gruff. Anne didn't think she fooled Nancy one bit but her friend mercifully changed the subject. “Remember that I'm off to San Diego with Ted next week."
That's right. She mentioned something about that the other day. It struck Anne as peculiar, Nancy not often accompanying her husband on business trips. “Ted's been in San Diego a lot lately, hasn't he?” Too much for Anne's liking.
"He adores the city, as I do.” Her friend smiled. “It's livable with the zoo, and tight communities and great schools."
Great schools? Since when did Nancy care about great schools? Anne didn't have a chance to ask as Nancy moved on to her next subject. “I have a temp coming in this week, training to take over in my absence. She's been doing a great job, a very fast learner. I'm impressed."
"She can't fill your shoes,” Anne piped up loyally.
"I don't know.” Nancy's words were quiet. “I think she might be able to. And she's interested in full time too."
Full time? Healthy lunches, no alcohol, long trips to a remote city with good schools, now a qualified temp for a one-week absence. They should address the situation.
"Do you want to talk about it, Nance?"
Her friend's look at her watch, confirming today's date, all but announced her pregnant state. “Not yet, Anne. Too early."
"I only have one and a half months left with Lamont.” That would be one miserable day. Anne tried not to think about it, plopping down her credit card on top of the bill. A business lunch with her partner, maybe one of their last.
"I know.” Blue eyes met brown in understanding. It was settled. They would talk about it then.
To add to her increasingly bad day, as soon as Anne sat down behind her desk, a sour faced Mrs. Depeche entered her office. Was this what Anne looked forward to working with in the future? A woman like Mrs. Depeche? The thought was depressing.
With a disapproving sniff likely at her long lunch, the stiff backed executive assistant placed a thick file on her desk. “Remember, Miss James, that you have the one-thirty with Denise Marche.” Anne was aware of the meeting. It was a quarter after one.
"Do you know Denise well, Missus Depeche?” Anne wasn't yet worthy of calling the woman by her first name.
"Philippe and Denise...” Philippe's executive assistant paused, as if uncertain of what to say next.
"They had a thing, I already know.” Anne tried to put her at ease.
Mrs. Depeche slid into the guest chair, sitting at the edge of the seat, like she wanted to flee as soon as she could. The executive assistant opened up a little. “They've remained friends, spending time together, so yes, I would say that I know her well."
And Mrs. Depeche liked Denise while she didn't like Anne. Anne tried not to be so sensitive but it hurt. “I value your opinion, Missus Depeche. What do you think of Denise?"
"I think she's kind, intelligent, very adept at making people comfortable...” She drifted off, her eyes not meeting Anne's.
"You like her,” Anne stated baldly. Mrs. Depeche's gray head nodded. “I do too."
Mrs. Depeche's jaw dropped.
"That surprises you?” Anne didn't wait for the answer. “It shouldn't. Denise is a nice person."
"I thought because..."
Anne wouldn't make Mrs. Depeche finish the thought. “You thought because Philippe dated her I wouldn't like her? This is business, Missus Depeche. I'm a professional."
"Professionalism is important.” The comment held more scold than observation.
So that's it
. Anne should have realized. That was when her uptight behavior started, after that first discovered embrace. “You don't approve of my relationship with your boss."
"It's not my place to approve or disapprove.” But Mrs. Depeche's face said it all, she disapproved with every ounce of her body.
"That's okay.” Anne waved her hand. “I don't approve of it either."
Brown eyes behind glass widened. “You don't?"
"Who could? You're right. It's unprofessional and if known, would make other employees uncomfortable."
"It's known, Anne."
What? It's known? They had been so careful. Mrs. Depeche took pity on her and explained, “Philippe doesn't meet with all his executives daily and he certainly doesn't look at them the way he looks at you."
Anne groaned, holding her head in her hands. She was getting a headache, a big pounding headache. Not one for medication, she now knew why some people popped pain relievers like candy. “I'm sorry,” she had been apologizing a lot today, “I didn't want that to happen."
"Then why risk it?” came the question she dreaded.
Why? Why? Anne didn't have a good answer. “I couldn't say no.” And she couldn't. She couldn't deny him anything.
"You like him.” It was the older lady's turn for blunt speaking.
"Yes, well, that's my challenge to overcome, isn't it?” Anne said briskly, shuffling the papers, trying not to think of how her problems were rapidly compounding. “I'm sorry if it makes your position awkward. I never intended that, Missus Depeche."
There was a pause. When she spoke, Mrs. Depeche's voice held a softer undertone to it. “I'll handle it, Anne, but please call me Sylvie."
Anne hadn't time to think of her new batch of problems before Denise arrived, breathtakingly beautiful in a blush pink designer suit, her polished nails a perfect match. Her beauty further enhanced by the genuine smile on her porcelain face.
"Anne, so glad you could see me.” The woman forewent the handshake for a brief buss on the cheek, her light flower scent reaching out to surround Anne.
"Denise, welcome. Please have a seat.” Anne noted how she drifted into the chair with perfect grace, her generous proportions filling out the suit in ways Anne's slight form never could.
She felt like a flat-chested little girl seated across from Denise, a bit intimidated. But, as her confidence threatened to evaporate, Anne reminded herself that she was the one with all the power, the control. And she was the expert. She couldn't forget that. Anne pulled out the business plan. Its strength lay in the proposition rather than the format. The gems had to be searched for, hidden within layers of unnecessary text.
"Not one for small talk, I see.” The blonde nodded down at the paper spread on the desk. “So like Philippe that way. He is always cuttingly to the point."
Anne cocked her head, considering the woman with cool brown eyes. Had she done that deliberately? Drawn attention to her relationship with Philippe? “We are alike in another way. Business is business.” Anne liked Denise but she wouldn't let her personal feelings affect her judgment.
"Oh, yes, you're a bastard also.” This made Anne start and Denise explained, “He mentioned that you called him that."
"Numerous times,” Anne mumbled, unnerved that he shared their personal conversations with Denise. What else had he told her? Surely not ... her cheeks pinkened. “Denise, I reviewed your business plan and I have a few questions."
"I'd find it peculiar if you didn't.” Denise smiled a tad less easily.
"Where did you get the idea of a integrated guest list system?” Anne needed to assure herself that this was Denise's original idea. She didn't want any lawsuits.
"I was helping with my sister's wedding and I noticed that she had many guest lists. One for the invitations, one for the replies, one for seating arrangements, the gifts received, the hotels needed and so on. Basically it was the same names on all the lists and I thought to myself, this is absurd, why not work off one master listing? I was in data management at one time, if you didn't know."
Anne didn't. Blast it, the tall blonde has a brilliant brain in that pretty head of hers. So far, her logic makes perfect sense.
Denise's monologue continued on a tangent. “Funny how many of Philippe's girlfriends had an information technology background. You must be one of the only exceptions. Even Suze has a—"
"About Be My Guest, Denise,” Anne redirected her client. She didn't want to hear about all of Philippe's ex-girlfriends. With his history, that could take days.
"Oh, yes, where was I?” Big blue eyes blinked rapidly. Anne got the impression that the beauty wasn't used to being interrupted.
"One master listing,” Anne prompted helpfully.
"That's right, one master listing, then I took it a step further. What if there was a site that handled all this? Automatically fed to thank you cards, table cards, gift registries, hotel and rental car reservations? The possibilities are endless. The advertising and affiliate deals alone would make the site profitable!"
Anne was stirred by Denise's passion. Passion was good, essential, and the business excited the entrepreneur. That was clear. “How long would it take to get up and running?” First-to-market would be key, especially for the gift registry portion. The on-line and bricks-and-mortar retailers would want to team with one company only. They had to be the first to approach them.
"Less than a month after receiving financing.” There was confidence in even Denise's shrug. “Most of the programming is done, only fine-tuning the graphics left."
Most of the programming is done? Anne flipped through the business plan. If Denise felt the site was ready to go live, that wasn't how the plan read. It was very brief and top level. No screen snaps of actual web pages, no commentary on back end support. “Do you have some documentation with actual content?"
"It should all be in the latest plan.” Denise's forehead wrinkled.
It wasn't there. Anne memorized the business plan; she looked at it so often. “Could you show me?” Anne slid the papers over to her.
Denise scanned it quickly and shook her head. “Anne, this is the old plan. Didn't you get the latest version? I sent it to Philippe last week."
"Philippe has been out of town. He likely hasn't had time to go through his mail yet.” Anne supplied a reasonable excuse. She had to talk to Philippe. It didn't reflect well on Lamont Ventures to be so disorganized.
"I didn't mail it. It was hand delivered.” Denise bent over to search through her briefcase, pulling out a thick binder. “Doesn't matter, I have another copy."
Anne silently scanned through the pages. There was much more detail here. Looks good.
Meanwhile, Denise filled in the gap in conversation with her running commentary. She talked a lot, too much for Anne to concentrate fully on the technical pieces. Likely it's nerves. Anne heard about entrepreneurs breaking down completely at a business plan pitch.
"Can I keep this?” With Denise's affirmation, Anne continued, “I'll peruse this in full later. So the financing would be...?"
"To complete the programming but mainly for marketing and securing affiliate exclusivity. Advertising in the bridal magazines alone is outside of my budget. I used up all my personal financing with the programming."
"Understandable,” and impressive that she got this far without outside financing. To hire a good programmer was expensive. “Anything else I should know?"
"That I'm determined to make this work and I wouldn't have approached Philippe if I didn't think he'd get a good return on his money."
Well said. “Then I'm pleased to say that I'll be promoting your business to the next level."
"Thank you so much, Anne.” Denise clapped her hands in excitement, her blue eyes glowing. “I knew you were a nice person from the second I met you."
Anne gave her best scowl. “This has nothing to do with nice. Your business plan is solid, and if successful, should give our company a healthy return. Don't spend the money yet though. Be My Guest has to pas
s a few more levels, each more stringent than the one before."
"Sounds like a long process.” A shadow fell before Denise's face.
She had been waiting a while for financing. No doubt any delay was nerve-racking. “We'll try to speed it up as much as possible. There are also the usual concerns. Share of ownership, monthly audits, and of course, if we agree to the financing, we'll bind you personally to the company for a minimum of three years. I assume you have no issue with this.” Much of the company's early success hinged on Denise's extensive personal contacts.
The blonde drummed her perfectly polished nails on the desktop. “I don't think binding me for three years is necessary, do you?"
Now that is peculiar. An entrepreneur wishing to jump ship so quickly? Normally entrepreneurs were wedded and bedded to their companies. “It's a standard requirement."
"I'll have to talk about it.” Denise bit her lip.
With whom? Denise was the sole owner. Relax, Anne. Don't be so suspicious. Give the girl a break. Denise probably wanted to discuss it with her legal counsel or accountant. Most successful entrepreneurs had an informal board of directors.
"You'll have time, Denise. As mentioned, we have due diligence to complete before the contract is drawn up."
"How long will it take?” Denise's voice wavered.
Again, with the time concern. Sounded like Denise was a little overextended at the moment. Mortgaging to the hilt to feed a hungry little start up wasn't unusual. Anne didn't bother asking for confirmation. It would embarrass Denise and Anne would find out soon enough, a credit check being standard for all applicants.
"We'll have your answer in less than a month,” Anne promised. She'd put a rush on it and pull the team together immediately after this meeting.
There was a knock on the door. Before Anne could answer, Philippe poked his dark head in. “Did I hear a familiar voice?"
"Philippe,” Denise squealed, dashing out of her chair to give him an enthusiastic hug and kiss.