Chapter 5 #2
“I want, if someone chooses, of course, for one to be able to be born in a hospital I’ve built.
To be fed by food I’ve grown, to go to a school that’s been built to the highest standards by my contributions.
I want this person to be able to have a job, a family, a house and a home .
. . and if they choose, to do it all with companies that I’ve helped make.
And I feel that if we do it right, by focusing on enriching the life of this hypothetical person and the society they come from .
. . well, it’ll come back to us in kind.
And your proposal is going to be one of the jewels in that lifestyle.
To One Life Gym and innovative collaborations,” Jeffrey summarizes.
Whoa. And I thought the house had delusions of grandeur.
But we need the money and the connections. He stands and offers Ross a handshake and then me. I take note that for all his posturing and proselytizing, his hand is cool and dry, showing that he’s utterly at ease in this situation that is odd, even for someone of Ross’s upbringing.
Jeffrey sits down, and we follow his lead as he presses a button on his phone. “The scotch, please.” A disembodied voice says, ‘Yes sir.’ Jeffrey pats a manila folder on his desk which likely contains the contract documents. “I do want to let you both in on a small secret.”
Oh, shit, here we go.
The butler appears, pouring three glasses of scotch. I pick mine up but don’t drink, too on edge to hear this secret.
“A secret?” Ross prompts, a hint of strain in his voice.
“Oh, yes,” Jeffrey says, a grin spreading as he makes us wait.
“Like you gentlemen, I insist on researching my potential investments thoroughly. Ross, you’ve made a few splashes in both the business and the society pages, and I needed to be certain you had the focus to do what you planned.
And Kaede, many perceived you to be little more than a coat-tail rider, and I worried that you might lack vision. ”
“I assure you, we are both more than capable of—” I start to argue.
Jeffrey holds up a hand. “Rest assured, I no longer have concerns. As soon as I became interested in One Life, I sent in an undercover researcher. First-person consumer experience is invaluable, and based on that feedback and inside scoop, I feel like you are what you present yourselves to be . . . the next brand in the fitness lifestyle.”
My mind is whirring, replaying faces and names to determine who might be Jeffrey’s undercover sleeper agent. Karen? Gus? Stacylynne? Fuck, it could be anyone. The only thing keeping me in my chair is that I stand behind the experience we deliver and know that whoever it is, we rocked that shit.
“She certainly feels passionate about your capabilities at One Life. Quite ravingly, in fact.” Jeffrey drops that bomb, narrowing my field of suspects by half. He pushes the button on his phone again. “Honey? Can you come in, please?”
Ross and I both look toward the door to the office as the sound of high heels click their way through the waiting room.
“Hello, Daddy.”
Oh, shit wasn’t nearly enough of a reaction. This is a full-on fuck, fuck, fuck moment.
“My daughter, Melissa,” Jeffrey says, “or I guess you know her as Missy. Honey, thank you for joining us.”
Missy looks totally different than I’ve ever seen her before.
For one, she’s actually wearing something that’s approaching full clothing.
Her skirt’s still a bit too tight and a few inches too short, her sleeveless silk blouse has a deep V that shows off a Grand Canyon of cleavage, and those clicking heels are fuck-me high.
But even so, it’s a far cry from what she wears at the gym.
Even her usual ponytail is missing, her hair down and curled softly around her shoulders.
To anyone else, she’d look like an expensive version of a porn secretary. To me, all I see is the Cheshire Cat grin on her painted-red lips that foretells catastrophe. My eyes glance at the folder on Jeffrey’s desk again as I replay everything I learned about Jeffrey Sanders beyond his portfolio.
He was married and his wife died after having four daughters. The Sanders girls are famously press-shy, avoiding even so much as a photograph at their eccentric and protective father’s instruction.
“Hey, Ross . . . Kaede,” she says, sashaying over to perch on the corner of her father’s antique desk, her legs dangerously close to my knee and her wares a scant inch from full visibility. To me, at least.
“Gentlemen, when my wife was diagnosed with cancer twenty-three years ago, I made her a promise,” Jeffrey begins as though sharing a bedtime story by the fireplace.
“She told me to make the world better for my daughters. Four girls, all of them nearly the spitting image of my beautiful Heather. So I have. Each of my daughters has been given the absolute best in everything.” He looks lovingly at Missy, whose eyes haven’t left me.
“As you obviously intended, I’m surprised to learn that Missy is your daughter,” I tell Jeffrey. My voice is even and steady, and I refuse to move my knee, even though I’m itching to cringe away.
“Daddy decided he didn’t want us to become the next Paris Hilton, so we all keep a very low profile,” Missy answers for her father. “Maddie, Mindy, Meghan, and I all use Mom’s maiden name for any public contracts.”
“And I’ve made sure never to have a family picture published in the press,” Jeffrey says. That explains why I couldn’t find one.
“It’s a noble goal,” Ross says, trying to maintain control of this conversation. “I know what it’s like to grow up with privilege and the pitfalls with it.”
“True, and your strength to learn from it, grow under that microscope, and come out of it able to stand on your own two feet is admirable. It hasn’t been perfect, but you’ve done well for yourself . . . and your friends.”
“Excuse me?” I ask sharply.
Jeffrey’s eyes go steely, calculating and analyzing me. “Mr. McWarren, Missy confided in me during her time researching One Life that she’s taken quite a shine to you.” A few minutes ago, he was calling me Kaede. Now, it’s Mr. McWarren. To quote a certain madman . . . and here . . . we . . . go.
“Hmm.” Completely noncommittal and inoffensive, though my heart is racing out a drumbeat of no, no, no, fuck, no.
“It would be nice to keep business in the family. You and Ross are brothers of a bond deeper than blood, and that is one of the things that makes your partnership so formidable. I would like to forge an equally deep bond.”
The implications are clear and at the same time sinister. He’s not outright saying the contract depends on my dating Missy, but I understand him perfectly.
I glance at Ross, fighting to keep panic from showing. Ross’s face is impassive, seemingly blank, but I know him better than I know myself and can see the worry in him too.
Quickly, my brain moves chess pieces and plays the game out to completion.
How about . . . no, if I give in and date Missy, I would be giving up more than my integrity. Jeffrey controls Missy, Missy would try to control me, and ultimately, One Life. Our twenty-six, twenty-six, forty-eight breakdown would change drastically by a control of the purse strings.
Okay, how about this move? Here . . . fuck no. If I say that Missy makes my dick want to crawl back up inside my body rather than touch her, Jeffrey will definitely take offense and drop the contract.
Missy smirks, our entire plan going to hell in that cocky tilt of her lips. Gotcha, that look says, and I realize this has been her plan all along. She sees what she wants, and she’s going to do whatever it takes to get it.
I thought Ross and I had planned for everything, every possible scenario, every potential pitfall, but not this.
How in the world could we even think of something like this?
“I . . . ah, I’m flattered, Missy,” I finally stutter out, “but I have to say, I’m seeing someone.”
“Oh?” Jeffrey says with a blink, his face going stoic and blank. Missy gives me a doubtful lift of a perfect eyebrow.
“Well, we’ve kept it quiet, much like you have your girls,” I blab, my mouth just running.
I’ve never been good at this part, tap-dancing, as Ross calls it.
But I can’t just lateral this ball to him.
I’ve got to do it my damn self this time, with all eyes on me.
“Actually, it’s serious. We’re . . . engaged. ”
Jeffrey leans forward, his hands steepled beneath his chin.
“How lovely.” I can tell that he thinks it’s anything but.
The question is, is he disappointed at an inability to get something for his daughter this time, or is he enough of a shark that he’s upset at watching his corporate plans dissipate before his eyes?
He glances at Missy, who gives a barely perceptible shake of her head before intoning flatly, “That is surprising news.” A bare instant later, her eyes narrow. “Who’s the lucky woman? I’d love to send her a congratulatory note and gift.”
My mind whirls, wondering what I’m going to do. The whole world spins, and suddenly, it feels like the words tumble out of my mouth unbidden.
“Courtney Andrews.”
Wait . . . who just said that? Did I just fucking say that?
Based on the clink as Ross sets his whiskey down on the table in front of us a little too hard and chokes on his sip of scotch, I must have.
“Congratulations, I suppose,” Missy says through gritted teeth. “Daddy—”
Ross jumps in, trying desperately to get this meeting back on track, as if there’s any hope of doing so.
“Jeffrey, are we ready to make this a done deal? We came here in good faith, planning a partnership that would allow us to move forward with our expansion and franchising opportunities and provide a great return on your investment while fostering that positive change in the world you seek.”