Chapter 5
Chapter Five
RED
I sit in the black Challenger I rented, talking into my car’s Bluetooth to the director of Red’s board. The latest numbers are in, and the company I’ve put my entire heart and soul into is tanking. My investors want answers.
“Ms. Cash, numbers don’t lie. No one can argue that the label started with a unique and promising vision. And I know you’ve given your life to the company, but sometimes, the best thing you can do is know when to let go. It’s time for big changes at Red brand. I’m no longer convinced those big changes will happen with you at the helm.”
I bury my head in my hands, trying hard not to punch my dashboard or steering wheel. I’ve got to hold it together. “Mr. Pharrell, you know better than anybody that Red is my life. My identity. I can do this. I know I can. I just need time.”
“You need a new perspective. One that stepping down from the company might give you.”
“But it’s my brand!”
“That doesn’t make it any less a failing brand, sweetie.”
I hate it when he talks down to me. Would he ever refer to a male colleague as “sweetie”?
But instead of speaking my mind, I find myself begging. “Please give me another chance. I know I can turn things around. The last launch was a failure. I understand. I’ll start using fake fur and vegan leather to get PETA off my back. Whatever.”
“PETA provided some of the best publicity you and The Red Brand have garnered in a while…except for this latest debacle with Jameson & Cash and your surprise engagement. I have to hand it to you. You’ve got everyone’s attention… The question is, what will you do with that attention?”
“What do you mean?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“As a part owner in Jameson & Cash, you have a new bargaining chip on the table. One I might be interested in…”
Interested in gobbling up the way you did my company. Despite my hatred of Rowdy, the thought of helping Mr. Pharrell steal anyone’s label nauseates me. “Jameson & Cash? You’ve got to be kidding. It’s a stupid-ass brand built by two inconsequential cowboys.”
“Thinking like that is why you’re sinking in the fashion industry, my dear.”
Silence.
He asks, “Can you get me inside knowledge of their upcoming designs?”
I swallow loudly. “You mean like corporate espionage?”
“You make it sound so bad, Ms. Cash. It’s not like I want to steal the brand’s ideas. I simply want to see if there’s promise worth pursuing.”
“And if you find said promise?” I ask with a sinking feeling.
“Then, I want you to work your manipulative magic and convince this so-called inconsequential Ronald Jameson to take the company public?—”
“So you can purchase controlling shares in it.” Like you insinuated your way in at Red…
“You’re finally starting to learn…”
“But none of this makes any sense,” I argue, furrowing my brow. “After all, we’re talking about Western wear. I mean, seriously.”
“Cowboys are trending these days. Taylor Sheridan dominates cable, and as long as we’ve got a nice swathe of the population pretending to be Rip and Beth, there will be demand for Western-inspired clothing lines. Why reinvent the wheel when we can let someone else do it and then swoop in for the kill?”
My stomach twists.
“I’ll even sweeten the deal by selling back the difference in value to Red, which, if my calculations are correct, would make you the controlling owner again.”
I close my eyes, desperation and disgust snaking around me. “I want that in writing,” I mutter, my soul withering.
“You’ll have it by end of day,” Pharrell replies with a nasal laugh.
“Okay.” No two-syllable word has ever made me feel more like a villainess. But there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save The Red Brand and make it mine once more. Losing ownership of the company has obliterated my creativity, pushing the enterprise to the brink of destruction.
My eyes dart up, and I see a tall blonde with a bob frozen in her tracks next to my car. Is the bitch eavesdropping on me? I remember seeing her in the boardroom when I barged in, standing next to Rowdy as if they were an item. I unceremoniously flip her off, motioning with my other hand for her to move along.
Still unmoving, she stares open-mouthed like a fool. Reaching for the car door to roll down the window, I prepare to holler at her New York-style, asking what the hell she’s looking at and telling her to move on. But thankfully, the dumb blonde takes a hint. I watch in the rearview mirror as she putters away. What a pathetic woman. But then, what would I expect from any woman tied up with Rowdy?
After finishing the call, I stride into Jameson & Cash like I own the place because…you know, I technically do. My eyes tick towards Ned, the ungainly security guard who escorted me outside yesterday.
“Ma’am, I want to apologize. I was obeying orders.”
“Well, those orders now involve Mr. Jameson and me. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looks me solemnly in the face, scratching his head.
“That was your first and last chance. Pull a stunt like that again, and you’re fired.”
He nods, his face darkening. “For my life, I don’t understand why Rowdy had you escorted from the property in handcuffs… I mean, you two are engaged, after all.”
“Foreplay,” I reply flatly, striding past him into the room I barged into yesterday.
Rowdy’s head raises, and he stares at me harshly, his far-too-kissable lips drawn into a thin line. I hate how breathtaking this guy has to be. From his white Stetson to his pale-blue, plaid button-down shirt and tight-fitting jeans that hug his muscles in all the right places, animal magnetism radiates from him. As I draw closer, I catch notes of a spicy, woodsy cologne daring me to invade his space.
Rowdy puts his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes and curling his upper lip like he’s either about to light into me or snarl. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and desire tightens my lower core with a painful, needy throb.
“ This is a shit show,” he laments.
I nod, unable to deny the tiny sliver of empathy I feel for him. Two days ago, I stood in the same shoes. “Yes, it is. But with a little time to reflect, I think you’ll see things like I do. I hate to say this, but my brother’s right about something for once.”
He grimaces, shaking his head.
I shrug. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Up to you, dipshit. I’ve spent the last twenty-two years in the dog-eat-dog fashion world. I know how to play with the big boys and girls, so think twice before crossing me.”
“If you think for one moment I’m going to willingly resign myself to whatever’s going on, you have another thing coming,” Rowdy grumbles, covering the distance between us and wagging his finger a few inches from my face.
“Look,” I answer, staring up into his cloudless sky-blue eyes and working hard not to lose myself. “Billy’s told me how hard you’ve worked on this brand and how much it means to you. Whether you care to admit it, I can help you bring your vision to life…or…”
“Or?”
“Or I can do everything in my power to sink the Jameson & Cash brand into the ground. Don’t think for one moment I’ll hesitate when the time comes.”
“For a little girl, you sure like throwing around big threats,” he observes, drawing closer and emphasizing how he towers over me. Standing mere inches from him, my body sparkles and sizzles. But his words light me up, hot as a firebrand.
“Don’t underestimate me,” I hiss out my last warning.
His eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare. But instead of speaking, his jaw muscles strain, emphasizing his sexy, square-cut face.
I take a deep breath, adding, “Nothing fully prepares a new designer for their first fit testing except practice. And I have immense amounts of that under my belt. Let me help you.” Judas couldn’t give a better speech. I sound downright charitable.
“Do the fit testing again? Absolutely not.”
I raise my eyebrows, inching closer to him and pounding my pointer finger into his chest. “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
He grabs my hand, holding it tightly against his chest to stop me. His eyes flash towards mine, and he swallows loudly.
I sigh sharply, my eyes drinking in his stunning cerulean gaze as flames lick up my fingers and down my arm, radiating out from his right hand, which presses my fingers and palm firmly against his rock-hard chest. No wonder women throw themselves at this man.
“Maybe bossing me around worked when I was a kid, Red. But I’m all man now, and I won’t put up with it. No matter how intimidating you try to act.”
Struggling to breathe, I let out a strangled sigh that sounds oddly like a whimper. His face and neck flush. We’re both in serious trouble if he’s thinking half of what I’m thinking. I don’t know whether to fear or anticipate it. “We’re redoing the fit testing.”
Rowdy shifts his weight, frowning slightly but still holding my hand against his chest where his heart booms. “What’s that fragrance you’re wearing?” he asks.
My eyes round, and I shake my head gently, taken aback by his question. “Nomade by Chloé.”
“It smells good. Kind of earthy and fruity.”
“It’s the oak moss and mirabelle plum.”
He draws a little closer. “Oak moss and mirabelle plum. Chloé. I’ll do my best to remember that, seeing we’ve got to pull off an engagement now.”
The air between us sizzles, and I can feel the warmth of his body despite the distance. I shrug. “I don’t know that most fiancés would pay much attention to what their girl wears.”
The corner of his mouth turns up slightly. “I would.” Then, he drops my hand and steps away, turning on his heel and removing his hat to run his hand through his thick raven-colored hair. “We’ll do the fucking fit testing again if you think it’s that important.” He says the words grumpily, never looking in my direction.
“Thank you,” I say, stepping towards him.