Lexi stood in front of Miranda. “Kyle called fifteen minutes ago to say that you shouldn’t bother about your stuff at his apartment. He was sending it over by courier, and said that he never wanted to see you again.
Miranda swallowed. “I’m through with him — and the feeling’s evidently mutual.”
“The jackass wasn’t good enough for you anyway,” Lexi said immediately.
“A complete jerk,” Miranda agreed. She paused, noticing Lexi’s desk. “What’s with the tissues? You’re not sick, are you?”
Lexi shook her head. “You know me — healthy as the horse. I figured you might need them.” She watched Miranda closely. “I’ve got chocolate, too.”
“Now you’re talking.” Miranda sat at her desk, watching Lexi pull a block of chocolate from her bag.
Lexi handed the chocolate over. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. But—”
“But you’re dying to know.” Miranda smirked, and then sighed. “There’s nothing to tell. I told Kyle about my past. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
Lexi’s face fell. “The scumbag! If I ever see him—”
“Don’t give him a second thought.” Miranda snapped a segment of chocolate from the bar. “He’s not worth it.”
Lexi looked sad. “You’ll find a man who loves you — really loves you—”
“Ha!” Miranda couldn’t suppress an apprehensive snort. “I’ve spent too long believing in that daydream. It’s time I faced the facts. Love is just not for me.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Miranda shook her head. “Love has never brought me anything but misery. Mom was always falling in and out of love, pursuing a dream. Each relationship was worse than the last. Then she brought me to America. Her obsession with love almost ruined my own life.” And dwelling more on it only brought back memories of the humiliation and shame she experienced from her stepdad.
“Miranda...,” Lexi’s voice trembled, “I’m so sorry for what you went through. But you can’t let your past hold you back.”
“It’s too late.” Miranda smiled sadly. “Kyle’s not the first to leave once he discovered how... damaged I am.” Her mouth twisted. As soon as men had an inkling of her past, they hurried to leave and never come back. “Unconditional love is just not for me.”
“Don’t say that!” Lexi was on her feet immediately. “You’re being unfair to yourself thinking that way.”
“I’m a realist,” Miranda shot back. “And I’m sick of being hurt.”
Lexi hesitated. “I worry about you, Miranda. I just want you to be happy.”
Miranda nodded. Lexi’s willingness to go above and beyond the role of assistant was what got her the job. She was never too busy to help the other staff or give advice. Miranda took a deep breath and found a smile. “I know. I’m such a loser. I think it’s time I focused on the true love of my life — the one I know will never let me down.”
“True love?” Lexi blinked.
Miranda took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. “Cooking. It’s never disappointed me. If a recipe doesn’t work, I can throw it away or tweak it until it comes up perfect. You can’t do that with people, certainly not with men.”
Lexi stared at her boss in silence. Then her mouth twitched. “Is that why I saw you sweet talking the mesclun yesterday? And when you tasted the Pasta Primavera, I swear you did a jig — or was that a waltz?”
“I did no such thing,” Miranda protested, then saw the mischievous look on the girl’s face. “Lexi!”
She roared with laughter. “Honestly, the chef has a beef to settle with you. I told him the guests can tell if you did the preparation or if he did. They say yours tastes better.”
“It’s the same recipe, I swear.” Miranda blinked as she realized something. “That’s what I mean. It’s my heart and soul that they taste. I can always trust my cooking never to let me down — unlike men.”
“Yeah, but you can’t cuddle a plate of pasta.”
“But pasta doesn’t dump you for having a shitty past,” Miranda retorted. She headed for her desk, coming to a sudden halt. “I almost forgot. I found the most perfect spot for my catering business. I swear, it’s ideal. It has a kitchen at the back, and it’s huge! I can actually combine the soup kitchen idea with the business I’ve always dreamed about.”
“Great!” Lexi welcomed the change of subject enthusiastically. “When do you see this grand scheme taking place?”
“The owner messaged and said the lease was mine anytime I had the deposit.” Miranda’s shoulders sank, as Kyle’s parting taunt came back to her. “But the bank will release funds only if I come up with a guarantor.”
“No problem then,” Lexi nodded. “You can always ask Noelle to be your guarantor. What bank will say no to a Senator’s wife? You’ll have the funds tomorrow.”
Miranda shook her head. “I can’t. They’ve done so much for me already.”
Lexi clapped her hands together. “Talk to Hawkins Pharmaceuticals. They’re already doing work in that field. They’ve got a community outreach program dealing with the homeless. They cure the sick. You feed the poor. It’s a match made in heaven.”
Miranda hesitated. “I don’t know. A huge company like that? They’ll probably just shuffle me off to PR. I prefer talking to someone who understands.”
“At least give it a try.”
Miranda shrugged. “I'll think about it while I’m at the Center.” She volunteered three times a week at a homeless center, a commitment she’d kept up even while running NOELLE’S. “You can manage while I’m gone, right?”
“Sure.” Lexi deadpanned. “Just so you know, I can take over your job anytime you want.”
Miranda laughed. “Right. But you have to go through Noelle to get that chair.”
Lexi pantomimed a face palm. “Way to crush my dreams, boss.”
“C’mon, let's go check the prep area and torture the chef.” Miranda grinned. “You can be the mesclun whisperer and I’ll seduce the pasta.”
Chapter Two
Wolfe Hawkins stood at the window of the conference room, watching as the department heads of The Hawkins Pharmaceutical Company filed into the meeting. Behind him, the skyscrapers of New York rose like a steel and glass jungle, competing to catch the eye.
Usually, the view gave Wolfe a feeling of immense satisfaction. From the lofty heights of Hawkins Pharmaceutical’s office, located on the penthouse floor of the intimidating Hawkins Tower, he looked down on the surrounding buildings. The windows’ triple-glazed facade was so clear that looking out felt like watching a high-definition movie screen. Outside, the glass held up the blue sky and the New York panorama like a mirror, giving away no clue about the building’s interior.
The department heads assembled in silence, their footsteps muffled by the rich carpet. Those that caught Wolfe’s eye blanched. Wolfe’s frown increased at the reminder of the urgency for this meeting. As the last man took his seat, Wolfe strode over to stand at the head of the table.
“I won’t beat around the bush. You know why I’ve called you all here.”
The cool interior of the conference room seemed to go down another notch. The department heads exchanged glances although no one seemed eager to say anything.
The Head of Research spoke, “The error that caused us to lose a shipload of raw material.”
His neighbor, the head of quality control, flinched. Wolfe couldn’t blame the man. It had nearly been a catastrophe of nightmarish proportions. “The raw material was tested when it first arrived at our loading office. The labs declared it of pure quality—”
Wolfe held up a hand for silence. “I’ve reviewed the tests. I’m satisfied that the material was pure when it arrived. At some point during the processing stage, an unauthorized substance was introduced into it. We’re extremely lucky a chemist noted the strange discoloration in the finished product during the tablet pressing stage. Thanks to his diligence, we discovered that the entire batch was
tainted.”
The Head of Research leaned in. “Has the substance been identified?”
“Not yet. I’ve hired an outside laboratory to do the testing.”
The room was silent.
Wolfe examined the department heads in turn. He knew them all. The majority had been with the company since it first began thirty years ago. He’d grown up with their children. The idea that anyone in the room intended to sabotage the company was ridiculous. He trusted them.
But he couldn’t ignore the evidence.
“Because the chemical process involved in manufacturing those tablets is so complicated, the investigation team has not yet identified the origin of the mistake.” Wolfe watched the reactions of his audience with hawk-like intensity and attention. “Until we get to the bottom of this, I’m putting the storage facility off-limits to anyone not cleared by security. In the meantime, the investigators are checking surveillance cameras for any suspicious behavior over the last two weeks. Any objections?”
No one spoke.
Wolfe smiled thinly. He hadn’t expected any response. “Thank you for your time.”
There was a mad rush for the door. Wolfe couldn’t blame them. But while his conscience protested taking such a hard-line approach to his trusted employees, Wolfe had to be certain there wasn’t a Judas among them. Hawkins Pharmaceutical was more than a company. It was his father’s legacy.
A legacy Wolfe had been dangerously close to losing.
His father, William Hawkins, founded the company. Wolfe was on his last year of Business School in Cambridge when he passed away. His grieving mother took over the company reins while he finished his degree. When Wolfe returned a year later, the company was on the brink of bankruptcy. His mother gladly handed over running the entire company. Wolfe discovered financial records in disarray and company morale at an all-time low. He kept the company afloat only through sheer guts, showing the same knowledge and dedication his father possessed. Every decision was calculated, every move meticulously planned to achieve the best possible outcome.
Now, Hawkins Pharmaceuticals was one of the top companies in North America and making its presence felt in Asia and the rest of the world. Wolfe’s strategy was simple – make medication accessible to everyone.
Alone in the conference room, Wolfe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the conference table. He wanted nothing more than to loosen his tie, but he resisted the urge. While he was equally comfortable at home in sweats and a hoodie as he was in the expensive Burberry suit he wore now, he knew that Hawkins Pharmaceutical relied on him to steer them through the current crisis — and he would not let them down.
Ignoring how tired he felt, he stood up. He glanced at the window as he tugged his jacket straight. A tall angular man glanced back. Wolfe was proud of his resemblance to his authoritative father. I won’t let you down, Dad. Hawkins Pharmaceutical will come out of this better and stronger than ever.
Wolfe’s brow furrowed. He stared past his reflection, out into the vast metropolis. The best minds in the company were baffled. How to get to the bottom of it all?
“Mr. Hawkins, Mrs. Simpson is in your office.” The honeyed voice of Jenna, his secretary, cut through his reverie.
“Mom? What is she doing here?” Wolfe turned toward her. “Did I miss an
appointment?”
“No, Mr. Hawkins. She mentioned she was in the neighborhood and wanted to surprise you.”
“Thanks, Jenna. Tell her I’m on my way.” Wolfe collected his briefcase.
As he strode down the hallways, his mind returned to the possibility of sabotage. Impossible! Wolfe passed glass windows, through which he could see the non-medical staff consulting the lab-gowned technicians. It was that spirit of cooperation and trust that allowed the company to work like a well-oiled machine. From the moment visitors passed the uniformed security guards that manned the main entrance and were greeted by the team of receptionists, the standard of efficiency that was the hallmark of the Hawkins brand was apparent everywhere in the building.
As he stepped into his office, Wolfe was met by a familiar — and expensive — scent. “Hello, Mom.”
“Hello, darling.” Diane offered up a cheek to him.
Wolfe returned her greeting, and then eyed her warily. Diane Simpson was coiffed and elegantly dressed as any woman who belonged to New York’s high society. Known for her philanthropic work and love for the Arts, Diane’s face often graced covers of society magazines. But beneath the fragile exterior was a tenacity that her son only knew too well.
“What is it, Mom? Why the sudden visit?”
Diane feigned hurt. “Can’t I stop by and see my son?”
Wolfe raised an eyebrow. “You have tea at the Guggenheim with your friends every Thursday. So why are you here now?”
Diane fluttered a hand at him. “Op Art was on the agenda. You know I hate that optical illusion nonsense. It’s so…tacky. I ditched.”
Wolfe smiled. His mom considered anything outside the Renaissance era as trash. “You’ve never ditched before.”
“You’re right. There’s something I wanted to speak to you about.” Diane was silent. Wolfe sensed her struggling to maintain a neutral expression. “It’s about your Dad.”
In Wolfe’s vocabulary, Dad would forever mean William Hawkins. But Diane had moved on. He immediately knew who she was referring to. “You mean stepdad.” His eyes narrowed. “What about Bruce? What did he do this time?” Wolfe didn’t bother to disguise the scorn he felt for the man.
Diane had struggled to run the company following William’s death. At that time, Bruce worked as an Administrative Head. She claimed that Bruce helped her through the difficult times but Wolfe suspected that he was the reason the company almost folded.
“Oh, Wolfe, I wish you didn’t feel that way about him. He’s been good to me all these years.”
Sudden guilt assailed him. Wolfe wanted his mom to be happy. But marrying Bruce was one of the worst decisions she had ever made in her life. A product of a scholarship program, Bruce was intelligent and cunning, two traits all-too-familiar to Wolfe. Bruce Simpson clinched the biggest deal in his life by marrying into the Hawkins wealth. Wolfe couldn’t help but be suspicious.
“What is the problem then, Mom?”
Diane looked confused. “I can’t put my finger on it. Just this morning, he said that he needed a new wardrobe. Then he mentioned wanting an Aston Martin because he thinks the Rolls Royce too slow. He says he’s fine but I’m afraid he’s turning senile.”
Wolfe snorted. “I still have the bill from last month’s wardrobe upgrade. An Aston is out of the question. Why don’t you take him to a psychiatrist?”
“Yes, I’ll do that. It must be a stage he’s going through.” Diane sighed. “If only you gave me something else I could give my attention to, then I wouldn’t have to worry about Bruce so much.”
Wolfe stiffened. Had word about the company’s problems gotten out? “What do you mean?”
Diane wagged her finger at him. “If you settled down and got married, you could give me grandchildren to spoil.”
Wolfe breathed out in mingled relief and frustration. “You’re not bringing that up again, are you?”
“I’m not getting any younger. I want to enjoy my grandchildren while I still can.”
Wolfe shook his head. He suspected that she’d used Bruce’s strange behavior to
voice her real concern. It was a constant source of conflict between them.
“Whatever happened to that model you were dating? Victoria?” Diane asked.
“Every conversation we ever had ended up coming back to how much she wanted a Louis Vuitton bag. I bought the damned thing just to shut her up.”
“Stella then? She was an actress, wasn’t she?”
“There’s a reason she got into acting. She can’t deal with the real world.”
“Julie, the art curator? She seemed like a decent girl. What happened to her?”
Wolfe rolled his eyes.
“I felt like one of her paintings on display. She tipped off the paparazzi whenever we went out on a date.” He looked at his mother. “Look, Mom, I don’t have to explain all my failed romances. That’s my personal business, not yours.” He smiled to take the sting
off his remark.
“I know and I’m sorry. It’s just that I do worry about you. A string of girlfriends and each one always comes up short. Instead, you put so many hours into running the company that you hardly put yourself out there. How will you ever meet a decent woman?”
“The company needs me now. I can’t trust anyone to do things for me.”
Diane looked up sharply. “Is something wrong with the company?”
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