The Magnate's Manifesto
Page 17
You cannot, his father had warned him, take on my legacy, or you will destroy yourself.
Achingly honest, frighteningly intense, his conversations with his father had nearly undone him. Had left him shaken and angrier than ever at himself. He should have done more. He should have done something sooner. He should have been braver.
The burn in his eyes brought a hot glitter to his vision. He was not his father. He knew that. And Bailey wasn’t his mother. He had spent the flight home thinking about the two of them, how very different they were. His mother was brittle, power-hungry, content to live life on the coattails of each successive powerful man she conquered, whereas Bailey was strong in a beautiful, courageous way. Independence personified. You could see how much she cared in her eyes just now. Funnily enough, what he’d thought would never work for him was now the only thing he knew would. To have a woman that strong. His equal.
I know you heard me say I love you on the plane, Jared. Why hadn’t he had the courage to tell her? He loved her. Of course he did. He’d been half on his way that night in Nice when he’d learned the truth of her. Fully so after the night she’d given herself to him. And all he’d done since was deny it.
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He’d broken Bailey’s trust with that clause. The one thing sure to drive her away. And even though he’d had his reasons, they seemed blindingly inappropriate right about now. Not when she was everything he’d never known he wanted.
An idea that might be the product of his jet-lagged brain or pure brilliance, he wasn’t sure which, entered his head. He wasn’t letting her go. Not a chance.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHEN BAILEY HAD LEFT Las Vegas for California, a freshly minted business degree in her pocket and a lifetime of wisdom garnered from her very real job and her less-than-ideal family background, she’d thought she had it all figured out. Rely on yourself, don’t expect too much and keep your eye on the ball, and you’d get where you were going. That mentality, she decided, driving to work the day after that scene with Jared, would have served her well if she’d actually employed it with her boss as well as the job. If she hadn’t let herself fall in love with a man with a heart of stone. But somewhere along the way, she’d allowed herself to believe, to want far more than her destiny had ever been when it came to him. And suffered the glaring truth of her life-learned rule: wanting more than what you were destined to have was a recipe for heartbreak.
She peeled herself out of her car and walked into her favorite coffee shop in San Jose. Their argument hadn’t really been about the clause. It had been about her loving him and being afraid he would never return it.
The lineup of slouchily dressed students, computer nerds and suits was three deep on either side. She chose the typically faster one and tapped her foot impatiently on the faux hardwood floor. Maybe Jared was right, maybe she was running. Maybe it was just easier that way when you wanted what you couldn’t have.
The line finally cleared. Christian, the jean-clad, scruffy-looking barista who served her every morning, gave her a curious look as she slid a bill toward him. “Didn’t expect to see you here this morning.”
“Because this morning is any different from the last five years?” Her attempted humor came out bitter and unattractive. “Sorry,” she winced. “Bad morning.”
He pushed his funky glasses farther up his nose. “Have you read the paper this morning?”
She shook her head. That was part of her Americano ritual after she’d triaged her email. “Why?”
He yelled her order to the barista mixing the drinks. “It’s been the talk of the place this morning. You should get on that.”
She lifted a brow. “Anything in particular I should be looking for?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.” He pushed her money back at her. “Drink’s on the house, by the way. You look like you need it.”
He took the next customer’s order. Bailey shook her head, picked up her Americano and drove to work, her re-created resignation burning a hole in her pocket.
Aria called as she was walking through the front doors of the office.
“I gotta admit, even with all his imperfections, that would do it for me.”
Bailey frowned, using her elbows to negotiate the doors. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you read the paper this morning?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? What earth-shattering thing has happened? Did Jared make an announcement about Maison?”
“Oh my,” Aria sighed. “You really haven’t read it. He has certainly made a statement, but it wasn’t about Maison.”
“Great,” Bailey muttered. Another illuminating Jaredism to set the internet ablaze.
“Did you say you have your first executive committee meeting this morning?” Aria asked.
Bailey cradled the phone against her ear and jabbed the call button for the elevator. “I do. If I don’t resign first.”
“I suggest you read page five of the Chronicle before you do that. Then call me. I will kill you if you don’t call me.”
“Aria.” She stepped onto the elevator. “What’s going on?”
The iron box swallowed up her call. She hit the button for the twenty-sixth floor, and thought about what Christian had said. Didn’t expect you to be in today… What did that mean?
She exited the elevator, went straight to the PR department where she collected the Chronicle and took it back to her desk. Coffee in hand, she flipped to page five. An open letter from Jared took up the entire page. It was headlined, The Truth about Women—A Rebuttal.
Oh. My. God. He had not. Eyes glued to the page, she started reading.
A few weeks ago, I wrote a manifesto titled “The Truth about Women.” Intended as an honest if tongue-in-cheek summary of my views of women both in the boardroom and bedroom, it has provoked a great deal of debate, resonating with some of you and provoking anger in others.
At the time I wrote it I honestly believed everything I said. Experience had taught me that many women do not want the career life we as a society have insisted they do. That cries of a glass ceiling were perpetuated by females caught up in their own self-deception. And if the truth be known, I was not overly sold on a woman’s place in the boardroom, nor her ability to stand toe-to-toe with a man.
Then I had the chance to work with a woman I have admired for years, my chief marketing officer, Bailey St. John. In keeping with my theme of nothing but the truth here, I have to admit I severely underestimated her talent. I did not give credit where credit was due. She is not only a superior thinker to any other marketer I have ever had the opportunity to work with, male or female, she could likely wipe the floor with most of them.
This extraordinary woman also taught me something else. Something far more important than the value of a woman in the boardroom. She has proven me wrong about a woman’s place in my life. Hers. She has taught me that I can connect with another person on a deeper level, that I do want someone in my life in a forever sense, not just for the sake of the nuclear family, but because I love her. For who she is. For her courage. For what she’s taught me. She has made me a better man.
So here is my offer, Bailey, with all my imperfections as previously noted:
I offer you the homestead, and all the baking supplies in it, minus the white picket fence because Pacific Heights does not consider this fashionable.
I offer you a ring and a lifetime commitment.
I offer you a lion in the bedroom because that part is still true and I know you like it. Love it, actually.
And most importantly, if I am lucky enough to have you I am offering you complete honesty—after a mistake I swear I will never make again. Even when it’s hard. Even when it hurts because that works for us.
If you’re interested in all I have to offer, you know where to find me.
All my love,
Jared
Her eyes blurred as she read the last sentence. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks i
n a wet line that dripped into her Americano. She reread the whole thing. Stared at it hard. Vaguely registered the arrival of Tate Davidson and the fact that her executive meeting started in five minutes.
She blew her nose. Fixed her lipstick. Clutched her notebook and letter of resignation to her chest and followed Tate upstairs to the boardroom. It was packed with a full contingent of board members as well as executives at the vice president level and above, presided over by the chairman of the board, Sam Walters.
And Jared. Seated at the head of the table beside Sam, his gaze, which might be described as distinctly hostile, was trained on her. As was every set of eyes in the room, for that matter, and honestly, she could do without that.
Sam waved her and Tate into two chairs at the front. Bailey sat down, glad for the seat given her knocking knees. Tate opened the meeting, and began going through the financials. Jared took off his jacket and loosened his tie. Started drumming his fingers on the table. Tate announced the Maison deal to much applause, the buzz in the room palpable. He waited while the other directors congratulated Jared, then turned to the CEO for a word.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said, waving a hand at Tate, his gaze still pinned on Bailey, “but did you read the paper this morning?”
Her lips curved, his disheveled appearance, the agitated air about him, solidifying what she already knew. Jared Stone was irresistible. “Five minutes ago,” she said evenly. “I was late this morning.”
The scowl on his face grew. “You have anything you’d like to share?”
“Yes,” she said softly, because you could hear a pin drop in the room, it was that quiet. “But I’d prefer to do it in private.”
He sat back, blue eyes stormy. Julie Walcott, his VP of PR, raised her hand. “Can I make a request? Can we make this the last manifesto? It’s such a work of art we should allow it to become infamous.”
“Considering this one just about killed me,” Jared growled, “that would be a definitive yes.”
Sam took control of the meeting after that. Somewhere near the end, she found herself the bewildered owner of a whole new set of responsibilities Jared bestowed on her in a bid to go back to doing what he did best. He relinquished the “first look” privileges he had over Stone Industries’ marketing and handed them to her. From now on everyone on the PR, advertising and marketing teams would report to her. He did not, Jared stressed, want to spend his time approving ad campaigns.
She stared shocked at him while Tate Davidson nearly lost his breakfast. It was a controversial call, no doubt, but given the stormy nature of her boss at the moment, no one was saying a word.
Lunchtime arrived. She stood up with everyone else, snatching her resignation off the table. Jared appeared at her elbow. “My office,” he growled and propelled her down the hall into his minimalistic haven. Bailey stood, paper clutched in her hands, as he shut the door and leaned against it, his stance turning predatory.
“What is that in your hands?”
“My resignation.”
His gaze narrowed. “You aren’t resigning. I feel a sense of déjà vu here.”
She drank him in, the same fierce warrior in evidence as the one in her bedroom that night in Nice when he’d promised to back her no matter what.
“Did you mean everything you said in that rebuttal?”
He nodded. “Every word. Including the part where I declared my love for you in a national newspaper.”
Her heart melted, so full of emotion she didn’t know where to start. “Promises aren’t in your DNA.”
“I didn’t think love was in my DNA either,” he countered roughly, snagging her sleeve and tugging her closer. “And now look at me.”
She was. He was everything she’d never dreamed she could have. And so much more.
“Seeing my father threw me. I needed time to process. To understand my feelings. But never for one minute did I change my mind about you. About what I said on the plane.” He ran his thumb across her cheek. “I will always tell you the truth, even when you don’t want to hear it.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I just needed to hear you say it. Write it. Whatever. Actually can you say it?”
He lowered his head to hers. “I love you. I’ve loved you from that night in Nice.”
He kissed her then, slow and deep. She was ready to sink into it completely, into him completely, when he set her away from him with a determined movement.
“Hey,” she protested. “That wasn’t—”
The words died in her throat as he pulled a jeweler’s box from his inside pocket. “You weren’t supposed to be late this morning. I was going to give you this.”
Her heart jumped into her mouth as he flipped the box open. Nestled inside the blue jeweler’s box sat a diamond eternity band that sparkled in the light. “You can have another if you like,” he said huskily, “you can have ten. But this is my promise to be your constant, Bailey St. John. Marry me.”
She shoved her hand at him. He slipped the ring on. The diamonds, hugging her finger in an unending circle of fire, made her heart take flight.
He brought her hand to his lips. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good. After this meeting, I’m taking you home to celebrate.”
“After?” she pouted.
“I just gave you direct responsibility for all marketing activity. You’d better take the helm while you can.”
“True,” she murmured. “I do love you, Jared Stone. I’m not afraid to say it.”
His gaze darkened. “You can tell me that again tonight. Over and over.”
She did. Many times as he proved his nickname All-Night Jared Stone was aptly earned. The ring sparkling on her finger made that just fine with her. He was hers; he would always be hers, she knew that. And in his arms, Bailey finally found herself. Not the old Bailey, not the new Bailey, just the Bailey she was destined to be.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from CHRISTMAS IN DA CONTI'S BED by Sharon Kendrick.
Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.
Austin Treffen has the plan… Hunter has the money… Alex has the power!
Read each of their stories in the captivating Fifth Avenue trilogy,
only from Harlequin Presents:
Avenge Me by Maisey Yates (June 2014)
Scandalize Me by Caitlin Crews (July 2014)
Expose Me by Kate Hewitt (August 2014)
And don’t miss the Fifth Avenue prequel that started it all, Take Me, by Maisey Yates!
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SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM
Sharon Kendrick brings you another spectacular book, full of passion, excitement and secrets!
Read on for an extract from CHRISTMAS IN DA CONTI’S BED…
* * *
ONE DANCE and it will all be over.
Alannah tried to re
lax as they began to move in time with the music and for a while they said nothing. But it wasn’t easy to pretend that it meant nothing to be wrapped in Niccolò’s arms again. Actually, it was close to impossible. His body was so hard and his arms were so strong. His unique scent of sandalwood and raw masculinity seemed to call out to something deep inside her—to touch her on a subliminal level, which no one else had even come close to. She could hear the thunder of her heart as he lowered his head to her ear, and even his voice seemed to flood over her like velvety-dark chocolate.
“Enjoying yourself?” he said.
“Not with…” Her words trailed off, because now he had moved his hands upward and his fingers were spanning her back. She could feel their imprint burning through the delicate material of her dress and her throat constricted.
“With what?”
“You’re holding me too tightly,” she croaked.
“I’m barely holding you at all.”
“You are a master of misinterpretation.”
“I am a master of many things,” came the silken boast, “but misinterpretation wouldn’t have been top of my list.”
She looked up from where she had been staring resolutely at his black tie and forced herself to meet the mocking light in his eyes.
“I don’t understand what it is you want,” she said. “Why you’re dancing with me. Taunting me. Trying to get underneath my skin. Especially when you don’t even like me—and the feeling is mutual.”