10. Gabriella
Gabriella
H olding my breath, I entered the airplane that would take me on the first leg of my journey back to Indianapolis. My muscles were sore in the best of ways—in ways they hadn’t been sore in too long. My eyes were focused down the aisle, rolling my carry-on through first class. My palm slipped on the handle and the temperature inside the vessel seemed overly warm. I’d avoided the gate until I couldn’t any longer. I didn’t know if Damien would be on the same flight. This one had a layover. Nevertheless, I wasn’t taking any chances.
I vaguely remembered Donovan Sherman saying something to Damien about coffee this morning. That was why I settled on room service. My avoidance had started early. Then I spent the early afternoon, hiding in plain sight. Not difficult to do in an airport the size of LAX.
It sounded childish, even in my own thoughts, but I couldn’t face him today. My resolve from last night was spent. It had taken most of my supply when I asked him to leave and not call me. The final ounces were drained when I refrained from looking out the peephole.
If I had.
If he’d been waiting.
I didn’t know what I would have done.
Apologize?
Ask him to come back inside?
Tell him I wanted the one orgasm he still owed me?
In the shower, after he left, I slid down the wall, sitting under the hot spray, holding my knees, and crying the tears I’d held back for over two years. That wasn’t completely true. I’d cried my share when I first left him. Back then, my sadness morphed to resolve.
I vowed I would survive.
I vowed I would go on.
I vowed that I was strong enough without him.
Those promises to myself were why I asked him to leave and to not call.
After less than twenty-four hours in his presence, I felt myself slipping away. That was what he did. I didn’t believe the effect was intentional on his part. It was simply that Damien was an irresistible force, and when near him, everyone was pulled into his orbit.
Just as one couldn’t fault the sun for its gravitational pull that held our solar system in orbit, Damien wasn’t at fault for the pull or the effect he had. The sun wasn’t at fault. Nevertheless, I refused to go back to being a lesser mass.
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
When I woke, I found my supply of resolve had just enough to get me back home and back to my life. There wasn’t enough to face him, speak to him, or even entertain memories of our last goodbye.
Thankfully, I didn’t see him in the rows of first class. Making my way back to row twenty-two, I found my seat. It was on the aisle with an older couple at my side. After stowing my carry-on, I sat and leaned my head back.
“Did you have a good trip, dear?” the woman asked.
It took me a moment to answer, to remember why I was in Los Angeles in the first place. The gala. Forcing a smile, I nodded. “It was a business trip, and yes, it was successful.”
Monday morning, I was back to me, back to work, and seated at the conference table with coffee in hand. In the middle of the table was a large box of donuts from a local bakery. The conversation started light with pleasantries and questions about the gala from those who didn’t attend.
The purpose of this meeting, a follow-up, was to tout our accomplishments—the massive donations Beta Kappa Phi acquired. After a discussion with the nice woman on the plane, I settled in and compiled the numbers. Each representative had sent me their totals. The final number was even more than we expected.
The discussion took a turn when Niles mentioned Damien. Now, instead of receiving praise for a well-planned and successful gala, I was facing the ire of Kevan, the vice president of endowments.
“Ella, it’s unfathomable that you would withhold this connection.”
Inhaling, I lifted the paper cup of coffee to my lips.
The seats around the table were occupied by the members of my team as well as Kevan Parkinson and Millie Barns, the executive director and the head of Beta Kappa Phi.
With all eyes on me, I set the cup next to my laptop. I chose to not address Kevan’s condemnation and to instead focus on our accomplishment. “After compiling all the numbers, the gala exceeded our fundraising goal by twenty-five percent. Mr. Sherman’s second donation came through this morning. He didn’t simply match last year’s sum—he doubled it.” I couldn’t be certain the money was solely from Donovan Sherman. Since the donation came in two parts, I had the sneaking suspicion that someone else may be involved. That was the someone Kevan was talking about. The subject I didn’t want to discuss.
Kevan cleared his throat. “Sinclair Pharmaceuticals is a local company that has recently skyrocketed in value. The possibilities are limitless if we could secure their sponsorship.”
“Niles,” I said, looking at my associate and friend. It was his comment that ratted me out. “Niles spoke with Mr. Sinclair. He can pursue this partnership.”
“I spoke to him,” Niles said, nodding, his hazel stare on me. “Sure. Yep. I can try to set up a meeting.”
“There,” I said. “It’s settled. Now let’s discuss the gala. What worked and what could be improved?”
For the next forty-five minutes, we stayed on task. Thankfully, the positives for our fundraising gala outweighed the negatives. The next hurdle was determining the site for next year’s event.
“Why not here?” Millie asked.
“I like the travel time,” I said with a smile.
“It makes perfect sense. Now with one of our biggest donors from Wisconsin, I like the Midwest vibe,” Niles added.
Kevan looked at me as he said, “And if we can get Sinclair Pharmaceuticals in and they agree to a sponsorship, we might be able to work out something such as a tour of their facility.”
As others spoke, I made notes. “Conference space is definitely less expensive here than in California.”
“Or New York,” Rosemary, a member of my team added. We’d had the gala in New York City two years ago.
As the meeting was breaking up, Millie Barns approached me. “Ella, may we speak?”
Considering that she was our boss, I couldn’t exactly say no. “Of course.”
She looked around. “Come to my office. It will be more private.”
The small hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention like tiny lightning rods. “Is there a problem? The gala was a success.”
“No problem. I’ll see you in five.”
I waited until she was gone to gather my laptop and things. As I entered my office, I met Niles’s pleading hazel stare.
“Shit, Ella. I didn’t expect Kevan to go off like that. I’m sorry I mentioned Sinclair.”
Swallowing, I laid my things on my desk. “You can talk to him—Mr. Sinclair.” I clarified.
“You two seemed…”
“We’ve known one another a long time. When it comes to business, he’s one of the best. You’ve got this.”
“Why do I feel like you’re not being completely truthful?”
“Nothing I said was untruthful.”
“Okay, not completely forthcoming.”
Niles and I became quick friends when I started with Beta Kappa Phi. We hit it off with our shared love of Reba McEntire. Yes, most people think she’d left the scene, but that wasn’t true. In the last two years, I attended multiple concerts with Niles and his husband. In most things and on most topics, we were forthcoming with one another.
Damien Sinclair wasn’t a topic that I’d been forthcoming about to many people.
“Millie wants to talk to me,” I said with my eyes open wide.
“Shit, about what?”
I shrugged. “I’m hoping she wants to give me a private ‘atta girl.’”
My stomach twisted with the memory of Damien’s good girl .
“You’ve got this,” Niles said. “I am sorry I brought Sinclair up, and I’ll reach out to that handsome CEO today.”
“Thanks. We’re good.”
Leaving Niles standing by my desk, I brushed the front of my skirt and walked toward Millie’s office. There was that sensation of being called to the principal’s office even when I believed I’d exceeded expectations.
“Millie is expecting me,” I said to her secretary, Pam.
“Go on back.”
Millie’s office door was slightly ajar when I knocked.
“Come in, Ella,” she said.
Her office was at least twice the size of mine with a view of a pond and trees.
“Have a seat.”
“Is there a problem?”
“You tell me.”
My mind searched for an issue. “I don’t believe there is. The feedback on the gala was mostly positive. If the biggest concern is for more vegetarian hors d’oeuvres, I call that a win.”
“When you were hired, I called your previous employer.”
My circulation stilled as I sucked in a deep breath. “You called Damien…Mr. Sinclair.”
“I did.”
“So, you’ve known I knew him…since I started?”
“I didn’t think it was as big of an issue as Kevan made it out to be. I have wondered why you haven’t utilized that familiarity to benefit both yourself and Beta Kappa Phi.”
Shaking my head, I searched for the words to explain. “I don’t feel comfortable asking Mr. Sinclair for money.”
“Isn’t that your job?”
Clenching my teeth, I nodded. “Are there complaints about the work I do?”
“No, Gabriella. I must wonder if perhaps Mr. Sinclair would work better with you than with Niles.”
“Niles is capable?—”
She lifted her hand. “I’m assigning you to Mr. Sinclair.”
“No.” I stood. “I can’t.” Twisting my body back and forth, I considered walking out on this meeting. “Why?”
“Because he called me Sunday.”
What?
“He called you. At your home?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“He was exceptionally complimentary about the gala and about you in particular.”
About the work at the gala or did he tell her I was a good fuck?
“Niles can?—”
“Ella, please sit down.”
Begrudgingly, I conceded.
“Mr. Sinclair suggested a sponsorship campaign unlike any we currently have or have had. It would essentially be a partnership within the framework of a not-for-profit structure. He informed me of a coalition that has recently been formed with Sinclair Pharmaceuticals, Wade Pharmaceutical in Chicago, and other smaller pharmaceutical companies in our regional vicinity. Their partnership makes their coalition a bigger player in lobbying the FDA as well as other benefits.”
My thoughts were spinning. “What does that have to do with us?”
“Mr. Sinclair said he’d spoken with Mr. Sherman, and they felt that Beta Kappa Phi could benefit from the coalition more so than from each company separately.”
“The two of them decided this?”
When?
I didn’t ask that aloud.
Was it during their morning coffee, after I’d told him to leave?
Millie went on, “Since our conversation, not only have I given this proposal extensive thought, but I’ve also gone ahead and contacted legal.” She nodded. “It is worth exploring.”
“Legal? Good. There will be legal and ethical concerns…It would be a massive undertaking.”
“That is why I want someone I trust to spearhead it.” Before I can suggest Niles or even Kevan, she continued, “And that person is you.”
Shaking my head, I replied, “I don’t think it is—don’t think I am.”
“Mr. Sinclair specifically asked for you. You’re to meet him at his office this afternoon at three o’clock.”
“Millie,” I pleaded, “I still have obligations regarding the gala. And if we want to have it here in Indianapolis next year, I need to get busy…” My excuses came rapid-fire.
“For the meantime, Niles will take over your work. This prospect is too big to let slip through our fingers. Think of the good that can be done with this pharmaceutical coalition.”
“You knew about this opportunity during the meeting?”
Millie nodded.
“And you didn’t stop Kevan from belaboring the point.”
“It seemed moot, knowing what I knew. The idea of this campaign is in its infancy, but honestly, Ella, I think it could be a game changer.”
With the cups of coffee churning inside me, I looked down at my skirt and back to my boss. “ His office.”
She smiled. “I have the address, but I doubt you’ll need it.”
“No. I know where his office is.”
“I’ll be anxious to hear how it goes.”
Shit.
It was the only word that came to mind.