“Uh-huh,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I tried,” he said. “I really did. I tried to resist your charm, your beauty, your laugh—your everything. But the more time I spent with you, the more difficult that became. And that morning when I was dancing with you, holding you, I felt the last barrier of my defenses give way.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me about this agreement with the board beforehand,” I cut in. “Figured that was some minor detail you’d get to later.”
“I didn’t want to ruin the mood,” he said. “Something was happening between us. What would have killed things faster than bringing an agreement with the board into it?”
He had a point. It wasn’t exactly the sexiest topic of conversation. But still!
“I had a right to know,” I said, still crossing my arms. “A right to know that this thing had an expiration date on it that you knew about.”
“Would that have even mattered?” he asked. “Isla, neither of us could resist one another. The only difference would’ve been that we’d have both known we were doing something we shouldn’t have instead of just me.”
I opened my mouth to speak but stopped myself. Maybe he was right.
But that wasn’t the point. He’d still screwed me over, and I was furious.
“I had a right to know,” I said. “You hid something important from me.”
He let the air out of his lungs as he nodded in agreement.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said.
“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it.”
“But like I said,” he went on. “I was caught up in the moment. You…cast a spell on me, Isla. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Very sweet,” I said ironically. “Probably another lie. You’ve already shown a talent for telling them.”
My words might’ve been harsh, but damned if they weren’t true. And the pained look on Adam’s face suggested that he knew I had him dead to rights.
“It’s not a lie,” he said. “And I don’t know what else to say other than to emphatically tell you that it’s not.”
“Well, that’s the thing about being a liar,” I said. “Once you get the reputation, it sticks with you. And there’s no coming back from it.”
There was something else about Adam as we spoke. At the start of the conversation, he’d clearly let some sort of barrier down. I could tell that he’d been uncharacteristically flustered, however briefly. But as the conversation went on, that faded and he went right back to his usual calm, composed self.
Instead of admiring it, however, it irritated me. It felt less like someone that he’d spent an entire day making love to, someone who “cast a spell” on him, and more like some business client that he wanted to finish up with so he could get on with his day.
“I suppose you’re right about that,” he said. “But I hate to hear it, Isla. I’d hoped that we’d still be able to be friends after all this.”
Friends. As if I hadn’t been insulted enough already—now he wanted to be pals or something? It was taking all the restraint I had not to blow up on him then and there.
“Why would I even want to be friends with someone like you?” I asked, my voice coming out in a snarl. “Someone who lies, someone who uses people.”
Still, that professional attitude was there. I wondered if I was going to have to launch my damn glass across the room to get some kind of normal, human reaction out of him.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” he said. “I was really hoping you and I would be on good terms after the trip. After all, we did have fun, didn’t we?”
We did, but that was beside the point. And not a chance in hell I was going to agree with him on it.
He finished his drink.
“And I hate to bring this up, but I’m afraid it’s necessary.”
He rolled the empty glass in his hands as I waited for whatever the hell was next.
“None of this can get to the board. You might think I’m just worried about my own ass here, but I’m thinking of you, too.”
“Me?”
“That’s right,” he went on. “So, for your trouble, and for your silence, I’m willing to offer you a payout. Call it a Christmas bonus.”
I was appalled. I couldn’t believe that on top of all this, he was hoping to throw a little cash my way and treat this like some problem he could write a check about and forget. It was infuriating. At that moment I didn’t even want to see Adam, to be in the same room with him—let alone the same airplane.
“Keep your money,” I spat. “I don’t want it. You want me to keep quiet about it? Fine—we can pretend that it never happened. In fact, I’d probably like it better that way.”
“You don’t mean that, Isla,” he said.
I couldn’t tell if he was hurt or just putting on another show. Truth be told, I didn’t really care.
“I’m going to bed,” I said. “And I want you to stay as far away from me as possible until this plane lands. And then when we’re back at work, you’ll get your silence, don’t you worry.”
By that point I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes. I knew I needed to get out of there as soon as possible if I wasn’t going to turn into a sobbing mess.
“Isla…” he said one more time, now sounding like there was possibly genuine sadness in his voice.
But I didn’t care. I slammed my drink down onto the coffee table and stormed off to the bedroom, shutting the door hard behind me.
Once I was alone, I let it all out, planting my face into the pillow on the bed and sobbing like I hadn’t sobbed in a long time.
Asshole. Jerk. Prick.
A thought occurred to me as I laid there weeping, one I couldn’t shake—I didn’t want to go back to San Francisco. I wanted to be away from Adam, away from Corliss, away from everything that had put me in this state.
Moving. It sounded crazy, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like the only sensible option. I had to get away from the city, start fresh somewhere new. The idea made me feel…good, if only for a moment.
But despite this rush of optimism, we were only a few hours into a long flight. Not knowing what else to do, I pulled off my clothes and turned off the light, settling in for what I knew would be one of the most restless nights of my life.
Chapter 19
Adam
January
The New Year had started, but all I could think about was Christmas. Specifically, how I’d ruined everything.
It was still so hard to believe how badly I’d handled the situation. Isla was hurt, and I’d offered to pay her off like she was a business partner with whom I was severing a contract. It was amazing that she didn’t smash the glass she’d been drinking from over my head. If she had, I’d have probably accepted it as something I’d deserved.
Hell, maybe it would’ve knocked some sense into me.
But what else could I have done? My reckless behavior had put the both of us in a bad situation, one that required me to act in a way that I could charitably describe as “regrettable.” If I hadn’t told her what my situation had been, the consequences could’ve been terrible for us both.
Truth be told, I was only really worried about Isla. If the board found out what had happened, there would be consequences, sure. But they would be consequences that I earned by going against our agreement. Isla, on the other hand, didn’t know what she was getting into. Anything that happened to her would be entirely on me, and I wasn’t about to have that.
I sipped my coffee, long since gone lukewarm, as I gazed out of my office window onto the city. It was the first day back from the holiday break, and I’d just gotten word that Edward had arrived. We’d only spoken in terse text messages since my trip to Brazil, and I’d gotten the impression that whatever he wanted to say, he wanted to say it in person.
Normally, he would’ve come right back for business matters. But he’d been abroad on holiday with his family. And more than that, I knew Edward well eno
ugh to know that when he felt a matter was of grave importance, he always wanted to be there in person to deal with it. The man never jumped on the technology bandwagon—only face-to-face would do for him.
I pushed thoughts of Edward and the board out of my mind only for Isla, as she’d done so many times over the last few days, to take their place. It was impossible to stop thinking about her, impossible to stop thinking of her laugh, her smile, her personality. And the fact that I’d ruined everything between us only made the memory more bitter.
It was the old thing about how trying to make yourself not think of something only made you want to think about it more. But with Isla, I knew it wasn’t just some quirk of the mind. It was the fact that I…felt things for her, things that I hadn’t felt for a woman in a long time, maybe ever. And it had all come on so suddenly. One moment I’d been standing in the elevator ready to start another day of work, the next I was speaking to the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life.
And only a few short days after that we were making love.
The thought stung me exactly how it had before every time I entertained it. Sure, Isla’s reputation around the company was likely safe from any scandal, but it had come at a great cost. Our friendship, or relationship, or whatever one might’ve called it, was over. She’d made it clear in no uncertain terms that she wanted nothing to do with me. And I couldn’t blame her in the slightest.
A soft chime sounded through my office, letting me know my secretary was on the line.
“Yes?” I called out.
“Mr. Corliss just called. He says that they’re ready for you.”
“Thank you, Caroline.”
I sighed and straightened my tie, ready for what was to come. Sure, I knew that the meeting was going to be a pain, but at the very least it was a distraction from the situation with Isla. Even getting the riot act read to me by the boss seemed like a pleasant alternative to thinking about how I’d blown things with her.
Not only that, but what I’d said to Isla hadn’t been a lie. I knew I’d made the right decision in closing the factory for the holidays. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. And if any member of the board had a problem with that, I’d be more than happy to discuss the matter.
Well, nothing else to do but do it. After taking one more sip of my coffee and grabbing my laptop, I glanced in the nearby wall mirror and was off.
It wasn’t long before I was at the boardroom doors, which were already opened in anticipation of my arrival. I stepped through, confident and ready.
Every pair of eyes locked onto me as I entered, every face with the same grave expression.
Most of all, Edward. He looked almost supernaturally calm. And I knew that with Edward, the calmer he was, the more upset he was.
“Adam,” he said. “Come in. I’ve been waiting to speak to you.”
I shut the doors behind me as I entered, bracing myself.
There was a heavy silence for a moment, and then finally Edward spoke again.
“I would’ve loved to have spoken to you the day this occurred,” he said. “But unfortunately, you didn’t take my call.”
“My apologies,” I said. “Ms. Marten and I had finished up for the day and were ready to start our break, however brief it might’ve been. And I figured that discussing the matter in front of the board would be more appropriate anyway.”
“Not your call to make,” he said. “But I agree. You’ve certainly got some explaining to do.”
“And I’m happy to do it. I’m sure you all have plenty of questions about the decision I made in Rio.”
“Do you have any idea how much that decision cost us?” asked Bernard Pyke, one of the senior members. “We already had an issue with productivity and you decided to close down the damn factory?”
“And you promised them holiday bonuses?” asked Whitney Meyer, a newer member. “How exactly are you planning on paying for all of this?”
More chatter broke out among the board members. Edward raised his hand, everyone going silent as he did.
“As Adam said,” he said. “You’ve all got plenty of questions. I sure know that I have a few of my own.”
He was calm, but I knew Edward well enough to hear the restrained anger in his voice. I’d only see him like this a few times before, and it was far from the most pleasant thing to be around. He’d gotten to the top with a calm, cool head, but even he had his limits.
“Adam,” he said. “I spoke with the manager of the factory. He stated that you closed the factory that day, gave the employees a break and bonus, and made all sorts of promises about what we were going to do for them down there. And that all sounds nice, but these things cost money. As Bernard said, the issue with the plant was that it was costing us funds. How are you planning on rectifying this?”
I took my place at the other head of the conference table, ready to say my piece. I’d been giving the issue much thought over the break, and I was ready to present.
“It was a controversial decision,” I said. “And I’m sure many of you are questioning my judgment. I don’t blame you. It sounds counterintuitive, right? Close the plant and cost us money in order to solve the problem of losing it?”
I opened up my laptop, connecting the display to the main screen. After a few keystrokes I pulled up some of the data I’d collected over the break.
“What we have here are some of the latest findings in the field of industrial psychology. It’s a lot to cover, and not the most reader-friendly, but I’ll walk you through all of it. But the key takeaway is that pushing workers harder, making them work through breaks in less-than-ideal conditions, overcrowding them in the workplace—all results in a negative impact to the bottom line. Look…”
I went into it, covering all the data and sharing the conclusions. Over the course of the next thirty minutes, I made the damn good case that if Corliss wanted to turn Rio from a profit sink to a profit maker, the first step would be improving conditions as quickly as possible. When I concluded I was worn out, having put more heart and soul into it than I had anticipated. Maybe it was seeing the working conditions in person that had made me do so, but I was invested.
And more than that, I was confident. By the time I shut the laptop, I half expected the board to stand up and applaud. Okay—maybe that was a little much, but I was sure expecting them to be convinced.
But there was only silence.
“Spend money to make money,” said Bernard, shaking his head. “Totally ridiculous. What we need to do is increase hours, maybe hire some new managers who aren’t afraid to crack the whip.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I already spoke to the manager we hired. He’s at his limit with the conditions as they already are. The data is very clear that pushing the workers is only going to make things worse.”
“Maybe pack everything up and move to a cheaper country?” asked another member.
“That would put all of these people out of work,” I said. “Do we really want to be the sort of company that does that sort of thing? Just drop our people rather than fix a broken situation?”
I turned my attention to Edward, who’d watched the presentation in total silence. The board members could voice their opinions, sure, but it all came down to what the big man said.
“Edward?” I asked. “What do you think?”
Edward may have been upset with me, and rightfully so. But he knew how to run his company, and he wasn’t the type to let his feelings get in the way of what was best for the company. At that moment, his opinion was the only one I cared about.
He continued to regard me with those cold, analytical eyes. Silence hung in the air as we all waited for him to say what was on his mind.
“I’m…not convinced.”
I couldn’t believe it.
“What?” I asked. “What do you mean? I’ve laid it all out for you here why this is the best of all possible plans we could go with.”
“I’d have to check your data,” he said. “And then double-check
it. And then do a little research on my own. Because as it stands, you’ve offered a very unorthodox solution to our problem. If we go with it and it doesn’t pan out, we’ll all be left holding the bag.”
Then he raised his finger.
“And, I should point out, that a high-profile misjudgment would be the last thing a new CEO like yourself would want this fresh out of the gate.”
“But I did the research,” I said. “And what was I appointed for if not for my ability to handle these situations?”
I was getting frustrated, but I wasn’t going to back down.
“For now,” said Edward. “Consider the matter closed. We’ll discuss it at a later time.”
“But with each day that passes, the more money we’re going to lose!”
“We’ve already lost money,” he said. “With the holiday bonuses and overtime pay you approved. Unlike you, Adam, I like to take time to make decisions like that. Now, again, the matter is closed.”
And that was that—nothing else to say.
I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it, knowing that nothing that came out would be for the better. Instead, I stormed out of the boardroom and down the hall, anger burning inside of me.
I’d always taken pride in my ability to stay cool in situations like these, but there I was on the verge of blowing my top. I had to get away from everyone, to be alone.
Then a thought occurred to me—was it just the meeting I was venting my frustration about? Or was it something more?
Was it…Isla?
The thought of speaking to her again filled me with a strange sense of calm. It was all that I wanted. Sure, she’d told me to piss off, but maybe she’d had time to cool down over the break. At the very least, maybe she’d be open to talking with me about what I’d done.
I resolved to go see her right at that moment.
After a brief elevator ride, I was down on her level, headed in the direction of her cubicle.
My heart began to thud in my chest as I approached the corner around which she would be.
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