by Claire Adams
“You had enough initiative to bring me this news without hesitating, so please take a seat over there. Pay attention and you might learn something useful.”
She nodded and scurried to an empty chair.
I looked out over the sea of faces staring back and on each one I could see the same expression: worry. They each knew about the tweet after I had interrogated them all. So they knew this was a crisis situation, and we had to do some serious damage control to keep it from escalating. Our reputation was at stake.
Something going viral that comes across as insulting or hate-filled toward a particular group of people had the potential to utterly destroy a company. If we didn't play our cards right, we could find ourselves in the midst of a firestorm of bad press, lost clients, and possibly even lawsuits.
I stood in silence for a moment, not quite knowing what to say and running through the situation over and over in my head. There had to be some way to deescalate the torrent of bad press that had already begun
I stood from my seat and faced the room. “You're my family,” I said in a tone of quiet but firm authority. “And whatever happens, I'll protect all of you. I'll take the rap for this myself if someone has to go down.”
It was what my grandfather would have said—and what he would have done.
“Perhaps nobody will have to go down,” piped a familiar voice.
Lilah.
Everyone turned to look at her. She was standing confidently, addressing the group. A surge of intense attraction billowed through my core.
“Why is that, Lilah?” I asked.
“Everyone is expecting us to back down, to cower, to grovel at their feet for an apology. Right?”
“I suppose they are.”
“Screw 'em. Don't apologize. We are a team, despite our diversity. I know if I were to ask all of you, you would each identify with various groups. That’s what makes us all such a great marketing team. Everyone here has a different background and therefore a different way of looking at things.
“We all know that quote was taken entirely out of context, but let's run with it. There's actually nothing inherently transphobic about the statement, even when taken out of context. Sure, it's a bit old-fashioned, but it says nothing about transgendered people at all. That's just what the politically correct fascists are reading into it.
“So, let's hit them with something completely out of left field. Let's not apologize. Let's run with the campaign exactly as planned—putting a heavy emphasis on the badass, male aspect of it. Let's make the ad campaign even more about a badass man's man than it was going to be.
“Let's show whoever is behind this that we're not going to be intimidated, that a bit of bad press and words taken out of context aren't going to knock us.”
“Are you sure about this?” asked one of my senior men from the back. “It's a risky card to play, especially considering the implications if it backfires.”
“I don't think it's going to backfire,” countered Lilah.
I looked everyone in the eye, individually, as I glanced around the room. Every one of them had contributed to the campaign that was currently being taken out of context and, like Lilah had said, we were a diverse group. That is how I knew her idea would work.
“And, I don't either,” I agreed. “In fact, I think it might just turn this thing around completely. It's a bold, audacious, and an entirely unexpected move. I think it's going to work.”
Murmurs of agreement started to flutter around the room. Eventually, everyone agreed that it would indeed be the boldest course of action to take and likely our best chance of making it through unscathed.
“Good!” I said, charged from the sudden burst of optimism. “It's decided, then. We'll go forward with the 'when men were men' campaign and intensify the message. Let's hit 'em team, let's hit 'em with everything we've got! Get to work.”
Everyone began to file out of the conference room, Lilah being one of the first ones before I could even give her a pat on the back for the bold idea. Another team member stopped me before I could try to catch up with her.
Thirty minutes later, I walked past Lilah's office and considered heading in to speak to her about Savage and the flowers sitting so boldly on her desk, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to hear about it if she was considering going out with him. I decided against it.
Besides, she had been extremely insistent about keeping things between us professional and, if that was the way she wanted it, that was how it would have to be. I wasn't about to overstep those boundaries, even though I felt the way I did about her.
One of the most senior members of my team almost collided with me as he rounded the corner because I was so lost in my thoughts about Lilah. He glanced over at her office door, seeming to know that she was on my mind.
“She's quite a firecracker, that one,” he said with a knowing half grin.
“That she is,” I replied wistfully.
“She's brought a lot of fresh energy to this company,” he remarked. “Good job on hiring her. You're a good judge of talent and character, Asher. You remind me a lot of your grandfather. He and I were friends for a long time, son. After all, I've been with this company for over three decades now. He'd be real proud of what you've achieved, I can promise you that.
“This little Twitter thing, it'll blow over, trust me. Besides, with that young woman's brilliant strategy, we may even be able to turn it around and work the angle in our favor. Don't worry, son, everything's going to turn out all right. It will always work out the way it should. Life has a way of doing that . . . with everything,” he added as he glanced in at Lilah and then back at me before giving me a reassuring wink and a solid slap on the shoulder.
“I hope so,” I murmured in reply. “I really hope so.”
***
I hadn't been able to stop smiling all morning. The entire day, I'd felt as if I'd been walking on air. The taste of victory was sweet, and it lingered delectably on my palate.
Lilah's strategy had totally worked. After a few, carefully-orchestrated magazine articles, several positive blog write-ups, and a brilliant social media strategy, the negative bloggers had been silenced. In fact, the social network had mostly turned against them for taking our words entirely out of context. We had tens of thousands of new followers on social media. Many were even congratulating us openly on how well we had handled the crisis and owned the image.
The success had all been because of Lilah.
Even though she and I had hardly said more than two words to each other over the past few weeks, I had to talk to her. In a strictly professional manner, of course. I called her direct office line.
“Lilah,” I said as she answered, “Could you come to my office please?”
“Sure,” she said. “I'll be there in a few minutes. I'm just finishing something up.”
When she arrived, I found it hard to look her in the eyes. My feelings for her hadn’t waivered, even though I knew there was no point. They burned as intensely as they ever had. Still, I had made a promise to her to keep my affections out of this—strictly professional. I wasn't about to default on that promise.
“You've heard the news, I take it?” I said as she approached my desk.
“I have,” she replied with a smile.
“Well, it's all because of your brilliant strategizing.”
She blushed and it made her even more beautiful. “I can't take all the credit, I mean—”
“Nonsense. It was your idea, and it worked like a charm. Don't be so modest. You had a great idea, it succeeded, and now . . . well, now you get to reap the rewards.”
Her eyes brightened as I said this.
“I do? How?”
“A bonus, of sorts. What would you like?”
“That's a pretty broad question.”
“All right, let me narrow it down for you. You get a five a day vacation, anywhere in the world, with all expenses covered. How does that sound?”
“If I can bring a friend, it sounds perfect.”
> A rush of jealous heat spread through me. How was I going to deny her if that “friend” turned out to be Brendan Savage?
“What friend did you have in mind?” I asked, regretting the words as soon as they escaped my lips. Asking probably made it sound as if I would have put stipulations on her reward and it likely made me sound exactly what I was—jealous.
“Meg, my best friend. She and I have talked about taking a trip to Hawaii for ages, and this would be a great opportunity to do that.”
I breathed a subtle sigh of relief, thankful she hadn't said Savage.
“Consider it done. There's a long weekend coming up next weekend. I'll give you two extra days off to make it five days.”
“Thank you, Asher. This is very generous of you.”
“You deserve it. However, since you’ve chosen Hawaii, I hope you and Meg won’t mind putting up with me on the flight. I have some friends there I’ve been meaning to visit. An old buddy of mine owns a resort there, and I'd like to catch up with him. We'll take my private jet.”
She smiled. “I think Meg and I can handle your company for the duration of the flight. It'll be tough, but we'll do our best,” she teased.
I laughed along with her. It was so good to hear her laugh and see that genuine, carefree smile on her face. I saw something else there, too, an intense sparkling in her eyes as she laughed. She was doing her best to suppress it, but it was there.
“Great! It's done, then. I'll see to it that all the arrangements are made.”
“Thanks again, boss,” she chided as she left my office and closed the door behind her, leaving me with a little optimism that maybe Brendan Savage was, in fact, no longer in her life. I could only hope that when I met with Matt later that afternoon, he could confirm.
***
I hadn’t met with Matt in over a week. At our last meeting, he’d informed me that Savage had called Lilah several times, but she had only answered twice. They’d had drinks once, but it didn’t appear to be intimate. So, I’d been holding out hope that Lilah had given Savage his walking papers—straight off a cliff.
As I was on my way out of the building, I didn’t have to wait for my meeting with Matt to get an answer to my question about Savage and Lilah. A black Bugatti sat by the sidewalk and sitting in the driver's seat was Brendan Savage, grinning smugly as he always did. My heart immediately began to hammer, and I felt a cold sweat breaking out on my back when I saw Lilah walking around to the passenger door to get in.
I hung my head and trudged off to meet with Matt, a host of negative emotions flooding through me. What could I do? She was free to make her own choices.
I just wished one of those choices had been me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lilah
After I'd double-checked that I'd packed everything I needed, I called Lilah to see that she was on schedule to leave.
“Hey, Lilah, are you and Meghan all set to go? Should my driver pick you both up from your place, or should he pick you each up from your own places?”
“I was just about to call you,” she replied. “There's a problem. Meg can't go. She's come down with something.”
“Oh, no.”
“Yeah,” she said. “She thought she ate some sushi last night that was a bit off, and when she got sick for the fourth time at work this morning, her boss insisted she go get checked out. She says she'll be fine, but she's stuck in a hospital bed the next couple of days because the doctor said she was not only dehydrated, but severely sleep deprived.”
“I'm sorry to hear that. Do you still want to go? I can't reschedule it, I'm afraid. At least, not for some time. You know how much work there is to get done over the next few months, and there are no more holidays or long weekends for a while.”
“I know,” she replied. “I told Meg I was going to stay here with her, but she argued with me and insisted I go. So, I guess it’s just you and me on the flight there. I’m sure I’ll find plenty to keep me busy, even without Meg there.”
I did my best to remain calm and collected, but inside I could hardly wait to have Lilah all to myself on the plane. Even if it was just for five hours. It was more time than I’d had with her combined in three weeks.
“Okay, then. I'll send my driver over to pick you up. Sorry again about Meg. I hope she'll be all right.”
“She’ll be okay. I’m more concerned about the nurses who will be taking care of her,” she joked. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
An hour later, we were in the air, just Lilah and I on my plane. I had employed two private flight attendants for the trip, but they had been given strict instructions to make themselves scarce unless called for through the intercom system. They had been doing just that.
As the captain was preparing to take off, Lilah and I lounged in our large, plush seats and talked about how the VIV perfume campaign was going and my thoughts on opening an office in Europe.
“Would you like a drink to get this little vacation started?” I asked.
“That sounds lovely,” she said with a smile.
So, I pressed the intercom button.
“What can I bring you, sir?” the flight attendant’s voice echoed back.
“I'll have a scotch on the rocks,” I said. “Lilah?”
“A glass of wine. No preference. Just surprise me.”
“Coming right up, sir,” the flight attendant replied.
She arrived shortly with the glasses, and I selected a movie to play on the big screen as we drank. By the time the movie had finished, Lilah and I had not only finished our drinks, but we’d also finished her bottle of wine and an entire bottle of champagne. I was pretty buzzed—buzzed enough that the filter on my mouth wasn’t working so great, and I asked about Savage.
“Lilah,” I said, “I know it's probably not the right time to talk about this, but . . . Look, I just have to ask. Savage: you're seeing him, aren't you?”
A mischievous smile crept over her beautiful lips. “He thinks I am.”
I gave her an inquisitive look. “You’re going to have to explain that one.”
“Look, I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark about this. Yes, I have been seeing him. But, it’s not what it probably looks like from the outside. I am actually on a fact-finding mission.”
I was taken aback. “A fact-finding mission?”
“Yep. I'm sure he's behind the leaked tweet and the break-in. I've gathered some insight that supports my thought process. I just need the proof,” she explained.
I felt a surge of satisfaction spreading through me as she talked.
“Maybe if we combine what you know with what my private investigator has discovered, we can build a solid case against Savage,” I said. “Please tell me you haven’t put yourself in any compromising situations, Lilah. I would never forgi—”
“Asher! Of course not! I haven’t even let the sleaze ball kiss me. He’s lucky I let him touch me at all.”
Relief set in. The last thing I wanted was for Savage to know anything intimate about Lilah. I didn’t want to share that with anyone, especially not him.
“I can't believe that you were doing this! You're . . . you're something else, Ms. Maxwell. I never should have doubted you.”
“Doubted me? What exactly have you been doubting?” she asked pointedly, putting me on the spot.
I was pretty quick though, even in my tipsy state. “That you would even give the likes of Brendan Savage a second thought. I really should have known you’d have a plan. How’d you get to be so resilient, anyway?” I asked with a cheeky grin.
“Growing up in a family of boys, without a mother, and being raised by a distant father. That's how,” she replied. A sad look entered her eyes.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “You know I can sympathize. Hell, I can relate. You’re the only person I've ever told about my situation growing up. Maybe I somehow knew you’d understand.”
“It wasn’t just my childhood,” she said. “I was . . . I was in love once. Madly in love.”
“Well that's a good thing, isn't it?”
“I suppose it could have been. But it wasn’t. And heartbreak has a way of making you or breaking you. I didn’t have a choice but to strengthen my resolve. It was that, or wither in a corner. In the end, love turned out to be an awful thing.” Her eyes fell to the empty glass in her hand.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I placed all of my trust in one man. I gave him my heart, my soul. Everything. One month before we were supposed to be married, he destroyed me. Told me he'd found someone else. He left, and we haven’t spoken since. It broke me. It broke me into thousands of pieces.
“But it also made me stronger than I ever imagined I could be. I took all of that emptiness I'd had growing up and mixed it with the heartbreak, and I used that to focus my energy, my drive, my motivation. I became fixated with work and my career, and became absolutely dedicated to it. That's what got me where I am now.”
I nodded. “I'm sorry you had to go through that, Lilah. Do you think . . . do you think you could ever open your heart again?”
“Maybe. One day. But so far, it seems the past is always there, always waiting in the background to stir up the doubts. Isn't it like that for you, as well?”
“It is, sometimes. There's the shadow of my father, and how he behaved. The terrible thing he did to my mother. But there were other things. There was more.”
Tears began stinging my eyes and sadness tightened in my throat.
“More?” she asked gently. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t need to feel like you have to tell me. That’s personal and private.”
My gaze caught hers and a jolt of something I couldn’t explain shot through me. “Lilah, I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone,” I replied, my voice hoarse.
She reached over and squeezed my hand. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. That one simple touch gave me all the courage I needed to talk about my father—something I hadn’t done in years.
“My father wasn't just a drunk with a bad temper. He was a womanizer, too. With his money and his good looks, it was easy for him. While my mother was pregnant with me, he got another woman pregnant. He paid her off—paid her to have an abortion and disappear. She didn't even have any idea that he was already married, and that his wife was pregnant.”