by Katy Kaylee
I would walk away and watch him grovel, beg me to stay. His company would lose ground without me at the marketing helm, and I would be the one laughing.
“You’re not like that,” I muttered, already feeling guilty for even thinking such mean thoughts.
I wouldn’t retaliate. I would take the high road. I was better than that. I wouldn’t let him see any weakness from me. It would be like swimming with the sharks with a giant, bleeding wound. If he sensed weakness, he would attack. He’d done it once before. I doubted he’d changed much in the last three years.
I shook my head as I pulled up one of the designs I was supposed to be coming up with a marketing plan for. I couldn’t believe I was working for Jax freaking Michaels. Of all the fashion houses in all the world, I’d walked into his. I hoped I didn’t live to regret it. I was tired of living with regrets.
5
JAX
After a long weekend of mulling over my options, I realized Penny was my best bet at having a successful marketing department. I knew her creativity personally and knew she would be good for the company. I just had to put aside the baggage between us. In order to do that, I had to make peace. It was up to me to extend the olive branch. I just hoped she would be willing to accept it. The Penny I used to know was kind and forgiving and always nice to everyone. I was sure she was probably a little more jaded after what I had done, but I was hoping the old Penny I had known so well was still in there, waiting to give me another chance to prove I wasn’t the asshole I had been back then.
“Hey, how was your weekend?” Carolina asked, breezing into my office.
I nodded. “Good. Yours?”
“Gee, you sound so enthusiastic,” she quipped, handing me a printout with my meetings scheduled for the day.
“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind. You know I appreciate you, right?”
She grinned, her thousand-watt smile practically lighting up the room. “Yes, I do, even if you suck at showing it. We’ll keep working on that.”
“Thanks.”
“You know I’m always going to be straight with you.”
“I do know that. I need to talk with Penny. If I want this line to launch successfully, I need to talk to her and figure out how to work with her. I believe you when you say she’s the right person for the job. I know enough about her to know she will be a hard worker, and she has always had a creative side to her that I want to capitalize on,” I told her.
Carolina was smiling and nodding her head. “Great. Would you like me to facilitate that meeting?”
“No, I think it’s best we do this alone. Things might be said, and I don’t want all my dirty laundry aired,” I grumbled.
She burst into laughter. “Jax, you have more dirty laundry than anyone I know. I’ve seen your dirty laundry.”
“Not this stuff. Can you please invite her to join me in my office?”
“I will. She’s going to be good for the company. Whatever you did, apologize,” she ordered.
“Who says I did anything?”
Carolina rolled her eyes. “Be nice and say you’re sorry,” she said and walked out.
A few minutes later, there was a soft tap on my door. I looked up to see Penny. Damn, she’s gorgeous. She was wearing black, cropped pants that hugged her slender legs. A pair of shiny black heels added a few inches to her height. The jacket she wore was buttoned at the waist and looked like it had been perfectly tailored to her form, showing off the flare of hips and the tiny waist.
I got to my feet. “Thank you for coming.”
“You’re the boss. Did I really have a choice?”
I would let her get away with that one. “Close the door please.”
“If you’re going to fire me, just say it and let’s get this over with. No need to sugarcoat it.”
I smiled. “I’m not going to fire you. I wanted to talk with my head of marketing to go over some expectations for the new line.”
That seemed to soften her a little. “Oh.”
“Please, close the door and have a seat.”
She did as I asked. I sat back behind the desk, wanting to keep the appropriate distance from her. I wanted to treat her with respect and like any other employee. I pretended she was Carolina and we were talking about my upcoming schedule.
“I’ve reviewed the line and have a few ideas,” she started.
“Great.”
“What are your goals for the launch?” she asked, all business.
I grinned. “My goal is to be a wild success.”
“Obviously. That’s my goal as well. If I make you look good, I look good.”
I smiled, nodding. We would be fine as long as we kept it at this professional level. “I want it to look different than anything else that’s been done. I don’t want it to be too flashy or to look like we’ve tried too hard to be cool.”
She nodded too. “I absolutely agree. The clothes are very casual, and I think we can target men between the ages of eighteen and forty. We can do a campaign around guys doing normal things, like hanging with the guys, going on a date, sitting at home, and that kind of stuff.”
I liked it already. We were on the same page. “I like that.”
She flinched and I could tell she was having a flashback. I was pretty sure I had said those same words to her before. Those words had resulted in me taking her virginity and her breaking my nose. I’d been pissed when it happened, but it had all worked out very well for me. I kind of owed her for my success in the modeling world. I’d been too broke to have my nose fixed by a plastic surgeon and had been stuck dealing with the slightly crooked look.
One weekend during my last few weeks of my senior year at school, I’d gone to Chicago to see a punk band I liked. I had been in the crowd, dancing and having a great time, when a guy tapped me on the shoulder. He was a talent scout and said he liked my edgy look and knew I had a future. He handed me his card. I had thought it was a joke, but on a whim, I called him a few days later. From there, my life changed.
I was marketed as a real man with the look of a fallen angel complete with the rough-around-the-edges, world-wise thing going on. I had started modeling for a couple of small fashion houses, and the next thing I knew, I was landing lucrative campaigns and getting to live the life I had never even dreamed was possible for a guy like me.
“Do you have any ideas in mind for who will be modeling the clothes, or will it be you?”
“What do you think?” I asked, genuinely interested in her opinion.
She looked to be thinking about it a little. “I think it might be good to have a combination. We want people to see you in the clothes. People want to wear what Jax Michaels wears. Women want to see their men in the same clothes. We’ll create this little fantasy that they’re with you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Do you think that will work?”
“I do. I mean, you know your status in the world. You know women like you and want you,” she said in a way that made me feel like she was completely detached from her words. It was very clinical.
“I suppose I do,” I muttered, thinking back to the past couple of crazy years.
Women had thrown themselves at me. At first, it had been flattering, but then I realized it wasn’t me they were after. They wanted the guy they saw in the ads. They wanted Jax Michaels the model, not me. I let myself play in that world, but I had kept myself from getting tangled up with any women. Somehow, in some ridiculous twist of fate, my celebrity status had turned me into a damn monk. I had been too afraid of the repercussions of having sex with a complete stranger. I didn’t know if she would claim to be pregnant with my child or that I had some weird fetish. I couldn’t afford to be extorted or have my jobs dry up—not until I saved enough money.
“I think having you photographed in a few of the pieces is enough. Maybe you sipping coffee at an outside bistro or running errands, you know, the jacket over your shoulder as you’re dashing into a store, something like that,” she said.
I smiled. I co
uld practically see her wheels turning, and I was liking what I saw. She was smart, grounded, and talented. Carolina was right. It was exactly what we needed. I looked at her, cocking my head to the side and thinking back to that night, or more about the days after that night. She was the real thing. The other women I had dated just to keep my face in the tabloids were fake. Beyond fake. They were social climbers with some serious issues. They were all fucked in the head. I couldn’t bring myself to get close to any of them. Truth be told, they were a little scary. Their high drama was a huge turnoff. I pretended to go along while quietly distancing myself from their crazy.
It took me very little time to figure out they were using me. Models dating other models made for some pretty pictures. I thought dating normal women would be the cure until I figured out I was nothing more than a trophy. They wanted to fuck me and then brag about it. None of them were interested in the long haul. None of them were interested in me or who I wanted to be when the looks started to fade. I never spoke of my distaste for the world. I knew I would sound like a whiny little bitch. The poor little rich boy who had it all but wanted more.
“I think that is exactly what I’m looking for,” I told her, unable to stop the smile that spread across my face.
“Great. I’ll get some sketches drawn up and a marketing plan put together. I can have it back to you within a few days for you to approve,” she said in a cool voice.
“That sounds great. If you have any questions, just stop by my office or get with Carolina,” I told her.
She nodded, gave me a last look, and walked out of my office. I felt her absence immediately. Having her back in my life, even if it had only been a few days and on a very short, tense basis, it was good. We’d been friends once, good friends. I had lost so much that night. I had always wondered if what happened between us had some weird impact on my ability to be with other women. I had dated countless women, kissed a lot of them, and none of them made me hot. Every time my lips touched another woman, I waited for that same spark I had felt when I had kissed Penny. It had never come.
She’d ruined me. She’d broken my nose and me. I was a broken man, going through the motions and pretending I was happy with my success. I had been, but it had always felt like a huge part of me was missing. I had always felt like I was cold and dead inside. Chance and Penny had been a huge part of my life after my parents died. It had been a lot like losing more members of my family.
Seeing her again had stirred up old memories and feelings that had been locked up and put away for a long time. I wanted to be her friend. I wanted to make things right between us and maybe even Chance one day. I owed them a lot more than a simple apology. I was hoping by giving Penny a job and letting her get her feet wet in the business, they would see it as a peace offering and give me a chance to prove I wasn’t that same, stupid, cocky young man I had been three and a half years ago.
I smirked. I was still cocky, but I liked to think I was a lot less of a dick and could be responsible with another person’s feelings. I would never hurt Penny again. That was assuming she ever gave me a chance to hurt her.
6
PENNY
I reviewed the files I had created using my ideas and Jax’s vision for what he wanted his line to look like in ads. They were good. Really good. I was proud of myself, but I couldn’t take all the credit. The designs were good. Jax had some great ideas about how he wanted to market his clothes, and it worked. I liked it and I had a feeling he was going to like it as well. The guy was talented in many ways. I remembered how driven he had been when he was younger. He refused to be a victim or use his circumstances as a crutch. He’d made lemonade from the lemons life had given him.
I hated that he was so talented. I wasn’t surprised though. He’d gone from the orphaned kid who lived in a small town to a big star in the modeling world. He’d created his own brand. He knew when to smile and when to be just a little arrogant. He was the bad boy of fashion, famous for his looks and his infamous way of getting into trouble.
When I had read about the motorcycle theft in Paris, I knew it was all about publicity. He wanted to keep up that bad-boy image. Bad publicity was just as good as the positive stuff. As long as people noticed him and talked about him, his brand would be front and center in the fashion world. I smiled remembering the pictures I had seen of the skid marks he had left with that stolen motorcycle. He’d made a very accurate depiction of a middle finger in the Place de la Concorde. People had talked about it for months. I wasn’t sure what kind of punishment he was given, but I had a feeling it had been light. He would have been able to afford good attorneys.
Confident with my final presentation, I picked up my tablet and headed toward Jax’s office. There was a little case of butterflies fluttering about in my stomach at the thought of seeing him again. We’d managed to avoid each other the past few days, only giving slight nods or the cursory greeting. Now, it was time to talk to him again. I knocked on the door, noticing the blinds that covered the front glass wall had been pulled closed.
“Come in,” he called out.
I opened the door and saw him sitting at his desk, Dakota leaning over him. They were looking at something on his tablet. They both looked up when I stepped inside. “Is this a good time?”
“Yes, come in. Dakota was just leaving,” he replied.
Dakota straightened and walked toward me, his eyes looking me up and down. I didn’t feel dirty or violated but appreciated. When his eyes met mine again, I raised one brow, silently asking if he’d looked his fill.
“How’s it going? Are you settling in nicely?” he asked, stopping just in front of me.
“I am, thank you.”
“Maybe we could grab a drink later. You can ask me anything about the company or the line or me,” he said with a wink.
I smiled, willing to go out for a drink with him, but I didn’t get the chance to answer him. Jax got to his feet, the sound of his chair sliding over the tile floor and his open hand slapping against the desk drawing both mine and Dakota’s attention.
“Get the fuck out of my office, Dakota,” he snapped, his eyes flashing anger as he looked at me.
I was shocked by his outburst. I looked at Dakota, expecting them to start throwing punches. I was half their size. I would be helpless to stop the fight. Dakota burst into laughter, shocking me again for the second time in as many seconds.
Dakota looked at me, grinning like an idiot. “How about I take a rain check on that drink?”
He winked at me and walked out the door. I had no idea what had just happened. I was glad they hadn’t fought, but it was very unprofessional in my opinion. I glared at Jax, preparing to lecture him about the appropriate way to deal with employees before remembering I was an employee. I didn’t get to lecture or criticize—not if I wanted to keep my job.
“Have a seat,” Jax said, waving a hand at one of the two empty chairs.
I sat down, nervous to show him what I had come up with. “I’ll send you the file and we can look at it together,” I told him, having no intention of us sharing the same space to look at one tablet. I wanted the desk between us.
He grabbed his tablet off the desk and leaned back in his chair while I quickly sent him the file. I cleared my throat, wanting to sound professional and well-spoken. “You’ll see the basic information, like target demographics for the campaign, the various marketing tools to use, and so on. I think it’s important to use social media. Investing some advertising dollars into those ads is very smart.”
He was nodding his head. “I agree.”
I saw him swipe the screen and knew he had jumped to my first mock-up. “That’s one idea. It’s meant to be kind of fun, like making fun of fashion,” I explained nervously.
“I see,” he muttered.
He swiped again. I cringed. I knew what he was looking at. It was the mock design of him playing with a dog at the park. I had no idea how he felt about animals. In the depiction, I’d given him the standard lab but wasn�
�t sure his image could handle that. “We could use a different breed or scrap it altogether,” I blurted out.
He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve never had a dog.”
I nodded, taking that as an indicator he didn’t like the idea. “Okay.”
“I’m not saying I don’t like it; I’m saying I haven’t had a dog,” he said, not looking up from the screen.
“A cat?” I suggested.
He gave me a look that said he thought the idea was offensive. “No. Definitely not a cat.”
“Tiger?”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want to appear to be trying too hard. The tiger thing has been done, and no one thinks it’s interesting anymore,” he grumbled.
I was quickly losing hope that he would like any of the ideas I had come up with. I was silently kicking myself for trying to be too simple. If he fired me, I would never get a job in the business. I would have to move and try to pretend I had never worked for him, go somewhere no one knew who he was. I wouldn’t even dare to put the job on my resume.
“I can start over,” I offered, hoping to save my job.
I wasn’t sure why I was trying to keep the job I had thought about walking away from once I knew who was behind the company. I had realized at some point over the weekend I was going to make it work. The best revenge was success, I kept telling myself.
“No,” he said, not offering a reason, just a standard no.
I was screwed.
He swiped again and just like the first two proposals, he offered little to no feedback. I couldn’t get a clear read on his reaction. I watched him swipe again and again, clearly reviewing the proposal again, as if he was looking for something and not finding it. He put the tablet down and stared at me. It was as if he was trying to see inside my brain. My heart was pounding, and my palms had grown sweaty. I hoped I didn’t short out the tablet I was holding. I had no idea what was running through his mind. His lack of enthusiasm for my ideas was concerning. I expected him to fire me for putting forth such a lackluster performance. I wanted to fall back on the excuse it was my first time ever, but I refused. Excuses were useless. I hadn’t done my job. The job he was paying me a good deal of money to do.