The Barrington Billionaires Collection 1

by Danielle Stewart

  “I know,” Jessica sighed, looking like she was surrendering. “Come sit here. Let’s get you all made up. I’ve got a power suit in my closet that should fit you. The skirt will be a bit short since you’re taller than me but maybe that will help your cause. I’ll curl your hair and do your makeup, but that will only get you so far. You need to play the part.” When Libby sank into the chair Jessica had unfolded, she felt her friend’s hands land firmly on her shoulders and tug them back. “You have to be strong. Hold your chin up high. Efficient. Effective. Don’t get pushed around. Look like you belong there.”

  “There was this man there this morning . . .” Libby started but then bit at her lip to stop herself.

  “Stop,” Jessica ordered, tugging her hair some. “No men. No office men. No distracting men getting in your head. If you’re going to do this, then do it with a clear mind.”

  “Thanks Jessica,” Libby whispered, looking up over her shoulder. “I knew I could count on you.”

  “I’m just brushing your hair; you need to count on yourself.”

  Chapter 3

  “That was a big morning,” a singsong voice called as a woman approached James’s office door.

  “Shit,” he whispered. James had shaken off a lot of women in his day. Lost their number. Ignored their text messages. But he should have known this woman would not let him off so easily. “Hello, Aunt Marissa.” He tried to paint on a surpised smile but she wasn’t having it.

  “Oh, stop it. Don’t you dare look happy to see me.” Her hair was pulled up in a messy knot and her makeup looked like it had been applied during a bumpy car ride. When he was a child she seemed mighty, now that he was an adult she barely came to his shoulder. The only things big about her anymore were her two-inch fingernails that sparkled with red polish. Her thin skin and tired eyes showed how the years had worn on her. Marissa hadn’t had an easy life, and James could see that very clearly now.

  His mother had been in and out of treatment for cervical cancer most of his adolescence, and people felt the need to step in and fill the void. Aunt Marissa, his father’s sister, was one of them, even though she had three children of her own. Over the years he’d been distanced from the family, but since his father’s stroke she’d persistently been calling his phone every few hours for a week. He should have known at some point she’d march in here.

  “I realize I missed a few of your calls,” he started but silenced when she scoffed loudly and plopped her heavy purse down on his desk unapologetically.

  “Sixty-one voice mails,” she barked. “That’s how many I’ve left for you. Then this morning I get a call that you’ve fired all of your father’s executive team.”

  “That’s not true,” James argued as though he were excusing away his late arrival after curfew. “I didn’t fire a single person. They all chose to leave when they heard the changes I’ll be making to West Oil in the coming months. I can promise you they were all given very generous severance packages.”

  He felt the heat from her unconvinced stare. “James,” she sighed as she finally sat down, “couldn’t you just come in and tread lightly? Couldn’t you start slowly?”

  “Have we met?” he teased and threw her the smile that always used to get him out of trouble when he was young. He could see it begin to work. “I don’t do anything slowly. I don’t tread lightly. I need you to trust me. Everything I’m doing right now is in the best interest of the future of West Oil. I didn’t want to see anyone out of a job this morning, but I will not settle for a team of people unwilling to evolve. That’s what put West Oil in this position in the first place.”

  “Even if I’m willing to trust you on this,” she started as she reached across his desk and touched his hand, “I still can’t come to terms with your unwillingness to visit your father in the hospital.”

  “He’d want me here,” James argued, not able to hold her stare. “The company has always been the most important thing to him.”

  “You were very important to him,” she corrected, but the way his eyes dimmed she knew he wouldn’t agree.

  “Which is why he sent me as far away from here as possible after Mom died?” James wasn’t able to beat back his words. At the core of all his disagreements with his father, he knew this was the heart of the issue. When his mother finally succumbed to cancer his father stripped him of his job with West Oil and tossed him out into the world with next to nothing. When he needed family the most, he was sent away. Sure they fought a lot, disagreed on every aspect of business, but he hadn’t seen it coming.

  “I never supported his choice to fire you from the company and send you away,” Marissa admitted. “But I know he loves you.”

  “The past is the past,” James offered hollowly, brushing off his brewing emotions. “All we can deal with is the here and now. It may look like I’m coming in here and demolishing things, but I have a plan. Each executive chose to leave. I meet with the lower level leadership next, and I do intend to retain them. I hope each of them make the right choice and stay on.”

  “You’ve been away from Texas too long,” she countered. “People here have pride the size of their houses, and they are not going to like you coming in and trying to change things. You were always so thickheaded,” she sighed. “And sweet. I hope you haven’t lost that part of yourself. I still remember how you took care of Cutter.” She held a hand over her heart as she thought endearingly of her youngest son. He was the runt of the family, and James didn’t like anyone picking on his little cousin. “Every time someone gave him trouble, you were right there.”

  “This is business, Aunt Marissa. It’ll take tough choices.”

  “Just don’t forget that part of yourself. Don’t push everything else aside. And when you’re ready,” she tipped her head and looked at him gently, “just call me and I’ll sit with you while you visit your father. He’s not conscious, but I’m hopeful. I think he can hear me.”

  “Thank you for being with him,” James said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “The best I can do is promise you I’ll do what’s right for the company.”

  She hummed, and he assumed it was disapprovingly. “Don’t forget the special part of you that stands up for the little guy.” Snatching her purse off his desk, she finally let her stern look crack into a tiny smile. “And answer your damn phone when I call.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She was tough, and he’d needed tough for many years. His head was completely aware of the fact that she was clueless about the business, but his heart was happy to know she still cared so much for him. Enough to leave sixty-one voice mails and march herself down here.

  As his aunt walked victoriously out of the room, James drew in a deep breath. That wasn’t likely going to be the last time Aunt Marissa would have to march in here. But for now there was work to be done.

  Chapter 4

  Libby prayed the suit she’d squeezed into had some magic material that wouldn’t show the buckets of sweat that seemed to be pouring out of her body. The ache in her wrist wasn’t bothering her so much as it was constantly reminding her of the man who’d run it under cold water. This day had been a blur. She was not good under pressure, and this was about as much stress as she’d been under since her father died.

  Today was about blending into the walls and not being noticed. A skill she had practiced well. She hadn’t intended to be so snarky toward the man who asked her to help find glasses, but the last thing she needed was anyone noticing her ignorance of the layout of the building. If he hadn’t been so unsettlingly sexy, she probably would have been nicer. It wasn’t her fault his eyes were so piercingly gorgeous or his jaw line so square and strong. He should expect to make women stutter and run away if he wanted to look that good. At least women like Libby.

  When she did find the right conference room for the meeting James West had called, she was relieved there was a sea of people already in the massive room. She slid in like she was diving into the ocean, just one of many fish swimming around. Pulling out her p
hone, she busied herself and pretended to be working on some important email. It was amazing how much a phone could act like a force field, but today it was being penetrated.

  “Did you hear?” an older woman with white hair and doughy round cheeks asked. Her hair had been sprayed into a helmet consistency and Libby had this urge to knock on it to see if it tinged like metal.

  “Um,” Libby said before she remembered she was supposed to sound professional. “I have not heard,” she corrected herself stiffly.

  “He’s firing everyone. All the leadership roles have been demolished. I’ve been an executive assistant to Ken Rockaway for fourteen years, and now he’s gone. Of course we’re next. James Jr. is a heartless idiot, and if his father wasn’t in a coma he’d be here, setting him straight. The company won’t last a month under his leadership.”

  Libby nodded her head and pursed her lips together, tuning in to the chatter around her. It all seemed to be about the same. The word fired bounced off the walls and made her chest grow tighter. She needed this money. She’d been promised a lifetime of pay from West Oil and now it might all be over.

  “What’s your name, dear?” the woman asked, seeming to realize quite suddenly they weren’t acquainted. “Are you with accounting?”

  “I—” Libby opened her mouth but no more words came out. She had two canned phrases she’d been instructed to use, and they had escaped her for a second. “I am an executive assistant and liaison to one of our counterparts in Europe. Clifton Ryle works remotely, so I’m not in the office much. I’m usually abroad.”

  “Oh,” the woman said, nodding. There was a glint in her eyes that screamed she had no idea what Libby was talking about. As she looked ready to press her for more information, the door to the conference room opened and silence fell all around them.

  “Thanks for gathering so quickly,” a tall dark-haired man announced loudly as he stepped inside and smiled. “My name is Mathew Kalling, and as some of you know this is Mr. James West, Jr. He’s now the CEO of West Oil.”

  Shit. That was the CEO? That was also the man Libby had been fantasizing about since their encounter earlier that morning. He’d propositioned her, offered to make her bad day better. He’s the man she’d literally run away from. She tried to remember what she had said, how rude she’d really been. If she thought things looked grim before, they were falling apart by the second. Luckily the crowd gathered in this large conference room made for a good shield. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to spot her.

  “Good morning,” Mr. West bellowed, nodding his head and smiling with his mouth but not his eyes. He looked entirely different from their meeting in the break room earlier that morning. There was heaviness in his shoulders and a kind of dimness in his eyes, like he’d just seen something that brought his mood down. Libby had to crouch a bit to avoid his gaze, but it was worth the extra work. If she could sneak in and out of the meeting quietly maybe nothing would change for her.

  The other man, Mathew, was talking but Libby was too distracted to make sense of his words. Instead, through the small gap between two wide-shouldered men she looked at James West, Jr. His biceps pressed tightly against the lush material of his suit. Even his electric blue tie, matching his eyes perfectly, was sexy, if that was possible. She took in the way it ran down his thickly muscled neck, over what she imagined were six-pack abs, and rested just above the shiny gold on the buckle of his belt. She closed her eyes and pictured him loosening the knot and striding over to her with great intention. As warmth spread up between her legs, a shoulder bumped her back to reality, and she blushed at the thought that someone might realize what she was just picturing. Her heart continued to thud against her ribs as she refocused on reality.

  For a second she forgot how desperate this situation was. If she were about to be fired from the job she didn’t really work, her entire life would crumble. Even if a sexy man was doing the firing, it wouldn’t change anything. She shook off the awestruck feeling that came from eyeing Mr. West and focused instead on the words the other man was enunciating loudly at the crowd.

  Mathew addressed them with an efficient but gentle tone. “In situations like this, rumors fly. I’m sure you’ve all heard that much of the old executive leadership team has chosen to move on. I can assure you no one was fired. They were all given the opportunity to stay on with the requirement they align themselves with the new direction for West Oil. They chose not to.”

  “It didn’t seem like much of a choice, Jimmy,” the woman Libby had been speaking to, called. Every eye turned toward them. Her own face glowed red with embarrassment even though she hadn’t spoken a word.

  “Maryanne,” Mr. West said, his nostrils flaring, “I can assure you, they’ve all been compensated well. No one’s going to starve out there.”

  “And how about in here?” Maryanne countered. “We aren’t going to get any golden parachutes on our way down.”

  Mathew raised his hands disarmingly, and Libby could sense he was softer or at least had more tact. His voice, his expressions, seemed to be far more approachable than Mr. West’s, whose stoic look was laced tightly with annoyance. “No one in here is jumping out of any planes. No parachute required. Your jobs are here if you want them. You are the leadership of over four thousand employees. Those people are the lifeblood of this company, and they look to everyone in this room for guidance. The executives may have had the big paychecks, but you are the front line here. Yes, there will be changes, yes things will be different, but I can assure you Mr. West has the helm of this company well under control.”

  “If it isn’t broken,” Maryanne sang back and a cackle of voices agreed with her almost instantly. The rumble grew to near shouts, and Libby pressed her lips together tightly, praying everyone would just shut up and not ruin this for her.

  “It’s very broken, Maryanne,” Mr. West argued, and Libby watched as the man drew in a deep breath and brushed his blond hair back. It wasn’t a combative argument he was waging but one of justification. He didn’t seem to want this woman in particular to think he was wrong.

  His nostrils flared again, and he folded his arms over his chest. Libby should have been thinking his body language was off-putting and divisive, but instead all she could do was stare at how the new position emphasized the size of his biceps. The tension racing through his body, the way he clenched in frustration, only defined his muscles more. She was shaken from the trance when his voice grew sharp and loud. “This meeting is not a debate. I hope you make the right choice and stay on at West Oil, but know that things will be vastly different here.”

  “They say you are going to drive this company into the ground in record time. Your father never agreed with your ideas. Why else would he have fired you? I don’t want any part of that.” Others shouted their agreement.

  Mr. West nodded, pursed his lips together, and Libby thought he was about to offer some kind of reassurance. If he had a case to make about his vision for the company, what better time to lay it out? She fixed her eyes on him, tracing the line of his jaw as he clenched and relaxed it. She wanted him to be as brilliant as he was gorgeous, and she held her breath as he began to speak, assuming his words would be inspiring.

  “Then save us both the time and go now. I can promise you a positive recommendation to your next employer if your previous performance reviews warrant it. I hope many of you do stay on, but I can’t force you to,” he announced matter-of-factly.

  Libby couldn’t hold her face still. It twisted into a look of disgusted shock. How could this be the same man that had gingerly rolled up her sleeve after she’d been burned? She regained composure as quickly as possible but no one around her did. They clamored with disbelief and anger.

  The second man, Mathew, looked as though he were ready to jump out of his skin if he didn’t get a chance to speak. Like he was a passenger on a runaway train and no one would let him pull the brake. But Libby watched a look pass between the two men, and Mathew stayed silent. She wondered how a man like Mr. West, so
painfully handsome and charismatic, could be so quick to upend people’s lives.

  She felt bodies bump past her on the way to the door, and she was shocked at how many people were willing to walk away from their careers on principle. She’d been unable to turn down money from a company she hated for the last five years and these people were willing to walk out on a company they loved. She was embarrassed by her weakness, her lack of integrity, and one of her feet shuffled forward, nearly joining the group. She could leave now and get washed away by the tide of chin-held-high resignations. She could finally stand up and say she wouldn’t accept the paycheck that was agreed upon in some back-room meeting years ago. But an image of her mother flashed across her mind and she froze. She needed to make this work. She had no choice. Glancing around the room, she could see the crowd split in half, and the people remaining all looked like skittish animals about to bolt.

  Mr. West looked mostly unaffected by the people passing by him on their way out. He bit at the inside of his lip and flattened his tie busily. But then she saw it, just a flash across his eyes as the woman, Maryanne, crossed his path. Like a guilty child he glanced away, not holding the stare.

  “I’ve got business to attend to,” Mr. West announced coolly. She watched as he yanked his phone from his pocket, attempting to look angry, but she recognized the emotion to be much deeper than that. Remorse? Maybe sadness?

  When he reached for the door he looked over his shoulder and barked more orders. “I need an assistant, Mathew. Go through this group and send me the best candidate.”

  “Yes,” Mathew nodded, staring out over this small group, looking like he was about to pick the best pup in a bad litter. “How many of you have executive level assistant experience?” Three hands went up and Libby felt an elbow in her ribs. “Didn’t you just tell Maryanne you are an executive assistant?” a man asked her, and she nodded as though she’d just woken up from a dream and had come back to reality. She raised her hand reluctantly.