The Magnate's Manifesto

by Jennifer Hayward

  * * *

  She woke by the light of the moon, by herself in the bed. A glance at the clock told her it was almost eleven, another couple of hours before they would land. She sat up, looking for water, figuring Jared had left her to work. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw him sitting in a chair by the windows, dressed only in jeans. He looked lost, distant, in his own world.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  He lifted his head. Blinked. “No.” He didn’t invite her over but she went anyway, setting her hand on his shoulder. His stiffness beneath her fingers made her hand still. The utter remoteness on his face made her consider retreating, until he reached up and pulled her down on his lap. Her heart squeezed at the near rejection. He was such a complex, multifaceted man. She was sure she only knew pieces of him.

  She stayed there, curled against his chest, until the restlessness emanating from him made her draw back. She traced the hard line of his jaw, the unyielding curve of his mouth, the jagged white scar that bisected his upper lip. “How did you get this?”

  He frowned, as if he had to pull the memory from the deep recesses of his mind. “The son of one of our friends my father embezzled the money from went to Stanford with me. After my father was sent to jail, he confronted me in one of the campus bars. He was angry, said some things about my father I couldn’t let pass, and we got into a fight.” His mouth twisted. “I thought it was a fistfight, but when Taylor started to lose, he added a beer bottle to the mix.”

  She shivered as she looked at the vicious-looking inch-long scar. “He could have done much worse.”

  His shoulder lifted. “He was hurting. His family was ruined. I got it.”

  She ran her fingers across the heavy dark stubble on his cheek. “You were too. Couldn’t he see that you weren’t to blame for your father’s actions?”

  “When you’re angry and sad, you lash out.”

  Yes, but it hadn’t been his burden to carry. Her heart squeezed. How hard must it have been for a college-aged boy to have to defend his hero.

  He pulled her tight against his chest, his hand smoothing her hair. “My father wants to see me. That call you heard yesterday morning was my PI saying he’d done his usual check on him, that he didn’t look great and he wants to see me.”

  The call that had come right before he’d gone ice-cold on her…it made sense now.

  “Do you know why?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to go?”

  “I don’t know. When he got out of jail, he told me he needed time to get his head together, to figure out what he wanted to do. My mom had already remarried, and many of his friends wanted nothing to do with him. I was it really for him, but he didn’t even want to see me. He disappeared, showed up in the islands. I told myself distancing myself from him was the best thing for me. I was hurting so badly, I needed space. But we never really reconnected after that, except over legalities. Every time I tried, he pushed me away.”

  “I’m sure he felt a lot of shame.”

  His fingers traced the curve of her ear. “I think I was afraid to face what had become of him. He was such a strong, proud man. Afterward…it was like seeing a ghost of him.”

  Her heart contracted in another long pull. She took his hand in hers and laced her fingers through his. “That could never happen to you. You are self-possessed in a way I have rarely seen, Jared. You know who you are.”

  His fingers tensed beneath hers as if he might pull them away, then he let out a breath and curled them tightly around hers. “I should have gone to see him. I should have insisted on it instead of just having him watched over. He’s my father, for God’s sake. He’s not well and I’ve let him become a virtual hermit.”

  She shook her head. “You were hardly more than a boy when he left. You were sad and angry because he was supposed to take care of you.”

  “It doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

  “It’s never too late to make it right.”

  There was a long pause. Her fingers tightened around his. “Go, Jared. Talk to him. You won’t forgive yourself if you don’t.”

  He was silent then. She curled into his chest and tried to absorb his tension. But this part of Jared, this haunted part, was one only he could deliver himself from. Forgive himself for. She felt it rise up between them like a physical presence as the minutes wore on, creating a distance she couldn’t bridge.

  She got the message. Dressed and went back into the cabin and asked Betty for a cup of tea. Then sat watching the night as it sped by. Did people ever truly slay their demons? Or was it just easier to accept them as a part of you? She had always done that, but Jared had convinced her to try harder. Now if he could only do that for himself.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THEY NEEDED GLAMMING UP.

  Bailey came to that decisive conclusion about her slides for the executive committee meeting about the same time she remembered that the steaming Americano her colleague had brought her as reinforcement was sitting untouched on her desk. Tugging the top off the coffee, she brought the steaming brew to her lips. Maybe she needed some graphs. Clip art? Or maybe a joke…those meetings always needed livening up, didn’t they?

  And where had her concentration gone? She’d been doing so well all morning, ignoring the fact that Jared returned from the Caribbean today. Ignoring the fact that she was dying to see him to the point she really had to wonder about herself. She wanted to know how things had gone with his father. She wanted to know if he’d heard from Alexander. And shouldn’t he be in by now?

  A smile curved her lips. She hadn’t needed to convince herself things could be different since she’d returned from France a week ago. They were different. She was the CMO of this vibrant, innovative company, she had a gazillion ideas in her head she couldn’t wait to execute and yes, there was that little detail that she was in love with her boss.

  A zing of anticipation ratcheted through her, sparking a warm glow in her cheeks. She’d spent two nights at Jared’s place before he’d left. Two perfect nights in his stunning Pacific Heights mansion cooking together, getting to know each other and finishing off whatever work they’d had. And yes, countless hours in Jared’s bed learning each other in different ways. It had been so good, so intimate, she’d laughingly threatened to bake the next time she’d come over. Except the next time hadn’t come until the night before Jared had left to visit his father, and he’d been so keyed up about it, it had been a certified disaster.

  In the days leading up to the trip, she’d watched him grow increasingly agitated. About everything, she suspected: the board meeting, the deal, the trip. She’d offered to cook for him that night thinking maybe she could distract him. Tempt him with a passionate night in bed. But he hadn’t been there, not really. He’d toyed with his dinner, a distant look on his face, and cut the night short after they’d finished, pleading an early flight.

  She’d tried not to remember his sarcastic line in Nice about kicking a woman out after they’d cooked for him, but that’s exactly what had happened. And she, who wasn’t at all sure what being in a relationship entailed, hadn’t really known how to analyze it.

  Was he pulling back? Did she just need to give him space because of his father? Was she supposed to be unnerved he hadn’t returned any of her texts while he was away except to say that, yes, he’d landed fine?

  Her heart thumped nervously in her chest. She supposed she was about to find out when he did come in. Which was a good thing because she needed to ground herself. Being with Jared had made it clear her job wasn’t enough anymore. That being with someone as she was with him was something she’d been missing her entire adulthood. She did want the house and the white picket fence, as long as he was in it. As long as they were equals. And although she knew she needed to take it step-by-step with him, although the idea terrified her as much as it did him, she wanted to know she could have it. That this was real.

  The slides stared back at her—clearly lacking. She needed to have them
done for Jared so he could review them before they presented at tomorrow’s board meeting. With a sigh, she put her coffee down and went searching for clip art.

  Tate Davidson waltzed by her desk, leaving a trail of his sleazy cologne. “Big guy’s in fine form.”

  Her gaze whipped to him. “Jared’s back?”

  “Sure is.” He lifted a brow. “Surely he’s checked in with his CMO?”

  She lowered her head and ignored the dig. Tate was insanely jealous she’d been promoted over his head. And more importantly, her brain whirred, Jared was back. How long had he been in? Why hadn’t he come to see her?

  Her phone rang. She barked a greeting into it. It was Nancy from HR, wanting to schedule a meeting. “Sorry, what is this for?”

  “Your sixty-day check-in.”

  She frowned. “What sixty-day check-in?”

  “The one that’s in your contract,” Nancy said patiently. “Jared wanted to review things at the sixty-day mark.”

  He did? Wasn’t it usually ninety days? Having signed the contract and not read it thoroughly before they’d left for France, she wouldn’t know. She whipped it out of her drawer and scanned it. There it was on page eight in the fine detail. Employee Trial Period: Employee’s performance in the role to be reviewed at the sixty-day mark.

  “Isn’t it usually ninety days?” she asked Nancy.

  “Often, yes, but this is a high-profile role. Jared wanted to make sure he wasn’t making any mistakes.”

  Mistakes? Her blood flashed hot in her veins as she kept reading, scanning through the legalese. This position can be terminated for any reason determined by the employer, not limited by underperformance.

  “And this termination clause…can be terminated for any reason? Is this normal?”

  There was a pause. “That’s a little more…stringent than usual. But again, a high-profile position.”

  Bailey stared at the words. That clause said Jared could demote her for any reason after two months regardless of her performance on the job. Any clause she’d ever had in a contract had been based on performance.

  She pulled in a breath. “You know what, Nancy? I’m going to schedule this check-in myself. Consider it done.”

  “Yes, but Bailey we don’t do it that wa—”

  Slam. She whacked the earpiece on the base. Shot to her feet. The hallways flashed by in a stream of silver as she made her way to the elevator and up to the executive floor. Mary, Jared’s PA, gave her a bemused look as she stormed past her, knocked once on his door and flung it open.

  Jared was bent over a pile of papers, a frown on his face. He looked up in surprise, flicked his gaze over her and rose to close the door.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “First of all,” she bit out, “it’s nice that Tate Davidson knows you’re back. It would also have been nice to get an answer to one of my texts. I know you’re a very busy, important man but I would have enjoyed that courtesy.”

  His face softened, and now she could see the lines of fatigue crisscrossing it. “I’m sorry. I was on my way down after lunch.”

  “Two.” She waved the contract at him. “Did you instruct HR to put that clause in my contract? The one that allows you to demote me for any reason, regardless of my performance?”

  His frown deepened. “Yes. But that was before I knew what you were capable of.”

  She crinkled up her face. “You stood here and agreed to my terms. You asked me to come to France, to save your reputation and win that contract, when you weren’t intending on honoring our deal?”

  He walked toward her, his hands raised as if she were a child who needed to be calmed. “You were an unknown quantity, Bailey. I could hardly make you CMO without an opt-out. Be reasonable.”

  “An opt-out?” Her voice lifted a notch. “That clause is way beyond an opt-out. It’s an ironclad opportunity to get rid of me whenever you so choose. Even Nancy said it was unusually…what did she say? Oh, stringent, that was the word.”

  “Bailey,” he said quietly, holding her gaze, “that clause has nothing to do with the here and now. You have proven yourself to me. The job is yours. If you like, I’ll have another contract drawn up.”

  “What I’d like is to know that you believed in me from the beginning. That you are a man of your word and you were going to honor our agreement.”

  He blanched. “Trust is earned.”

  “And I gave it to you every step of the way.” She flung the words at him as she brought herself within inches of his tall, imposing figure. “I opened myself up completely to you, Jared. I let you break me down. And all I required in return was the honesty you promised me.”

  He shook his head, eyes flashing. “Everything I said to you, promised you over the past couple of weeks, is true, Bailey. Do not let this, do not let your insecurities, ruin a good thing.”

  “A good thing.” She barked the words out, hands on her hips. “How long should I expect this good thing to last, Jared? A couple months? Three? Four? You were already backing off the other night as per usual. Then you go completely incommunicado.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve been up to my ears, stressed about my father…”

  “So you shut me out?” She pressed her lips together, the insecurity, the hurt she’d felt over the past few days, sitting like the devil on her shoulder. “I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure this is where we’re supposed to lean on each other. Be there for each other.”

  His mouth tightened. “I’ve been trying. You push too much, Bailey.”

  The stubborn tilt of his chin, the forbidding line of his mouth, did her in. “I know you heard me say I love you on the plane, Jared. You ignored it completely.”

  He shook his head, his face losing color. “I told you I don’t make promises I can’t keep. It isn’t in my DNA. You knew that.”

  He could have said anything, anything but that and she might have been okay with it. But a cop-out like that? It made her chest feel so tight she couldn’t breathe. Because it wasn’t enough anymore. Not when she’d handed him her heart.

  She nodded sagely. “Now there’s the honesty I need. Because I’ve decided I can’t do this, Jared. You asked me to open up, to trust you. Well here I am. And if you can’t do the same, I think we should end it now.”

  His gaze flashed. “You’re using this as an excuse to end things before it’s started.”

  She shook her head. “This is me not wanting to be another casualty of the cult of Jared. I guess it’s not in my DNA to expect anything less than everything.”

  “Bailey—” He reached for her, but she shook him off, stalked to the door and left. Enough of this emotional roller coaster.

  * * *

  Jared was debating whether to go after Bailey when Mary stuck her head in his office. “Alexander Gagnon is on the line.”

  He cursed. If there was a person he did not want to talk to at this moment in time, it was Alexander. However, as the fate of his company lay in the man’s hands, he had no choice but to.

  He shut the door, walked to his desk, sat down and took a deep breath. Then he hit the blinking line.

  “Gagnon.”

  “Bonjour, Stone.” Alexander’s smooth, silky voice slid over the phone line. “Good news for you. We have decided we would like to offer Stone Industries the partnership.”

  The rush of satisfaction that ran through him at Gagnon’s words was swift and sharp. But the burn that stung his eyes, the tremor in his hands as he pressed them against his desk, came from a deeper place. A place he’d been loath to acknowledge. He would have walked, he’d been prepared to walk, but this was his company. To restore what he’d built with his heart and soul to its former brilliance—he wanted it with every fiber of his being.

  “Thank you,” he rasped. “I’m very happy to hear that.”

  “This is dependent, of course,” Gagnon said, “on Project X being exclusive to our stores.”

  “Certain product lines, yes, but not all.”

  “We can co
me to some kind of an agreement on that, oui. We will need to work very closely together in the beginning. The planning will be key. I want Bailey in Paris for quarterly meetings. How is your beautiful CMO, by the way?”

  Jared sat up straight. “Bailey is not part of this deal, Gagnon.”

  “So vehement,” the Frenchman chided. “I merely want her brain. What are you going to do, Stone? Marry her? That would certainly keep the dinner conversation interesting.”

  His blood bubbled dangerously close to the surface. He thought he might, actually. Want to marry her. Watching her walk out of his life could do that.

  He stared viciously at the phone. “Send the contract over, Gagnon. And forget about Bailey in Paris. You’ll have Tate Davidson, my VP.”

  He ended the call before he said something to trash the deal. Sat back and tried to digest. He was overwhelmingly relieved to be walking into that board meeting tomorrow with Maison in his pocket. Michael Craig’s massive abuse of his expenses as CEO had been splashed across the news this morning in a carefully executed plan to discredit him and oust him from the Stone Industries board, thanks to a friendship Jared had with a high-placed reporter at a daily newspaper. Everything was falling into place. But it was Bailey who occupied his head. He’d had to put that clause in her contract. He was running a multibillion-dollar company. He didn’t put someone whose ability he’d questioned into a C-suite position without a backup plan.

  His chin jutted out, his resolve fierce. Except she was right. He’d promised her the job. The clause should have been about performance. Instead he’d been intent on manipulating the situation to his advantage. That was the real truth. He’d been running as fast as his legs could carry him the last few days.

  Bailey was right.

  His time in the Caribbean had been mind-altering. Just as terrifying as he’d anticipated. His father was a shadow of his former self; old, suffering from debilitating diabetes and wanting his son to know the truth after reading his manifesto. It had not just been his marriage that had brought him to his knees, his father had told him, but his lack of faith in himself. His inability to follow his dreams. But Jared, he’d counseled, a wisdom in his eyes that seemed out of place in such a weak, frail man, had done just that. He had followed his heart, and that’s all a man could do.