“You know, I think I liked you better drunk. Maybe I should wait to speak to that version of you.”
“I don’t usually get drunk like that. It’s not something I normally do.”
“Of course, I doubt you would make me think otherwise.”
“It’s true. I just had a situation I was dealing with.” I hadn’t outrightly told him what happened to me, but he’d guessed from my rant on cheaters.
“Ahh yes, the cheating boyfriend. I won’t forget that either.” The humor left his eyes as he moved to the desk and set his folder down. His eyes went back to that emotionless stare when he looked back to me. “Here’s how this is going to work. You leave things like cheating boyfriends and situations at home. I don’t have time for shit like that. We have ten weeks, and I have work to do. Lateness is a no. I hate late anything, so organize yourself better so you aren’t late. And, please, for the love of God, don’t come to work drunk.” He inclined his head to the side and amplified the stare. “I don’t think I could stand a replay of the other night.”
Oh my God. This guy was a prick and a half.
“Don’t worry. You won’t get one.” That was the best I could say.
He and the whole situation was like a big slap in my face. For all I’d done. All that I’d done here and in my life, and this was the result.
What could I do though? If I wanted to work here, I’d have to play.
He gave me a curt nod, and the seriousness returned to his face. Then he opened the folder, and my eyes landed on the title of the front sheet.
Taylor Cartwright Assessment
Then there was a table of contents. It was a folder on all my campaigns and everything I’d authorized.
“What is all this?” I asked.
“It’s everything you’ve done over the past year. I’ve read through it and made a lot of recommendations I think you need to work through. You might want to sit down. This is what we’re going to look over for the rest of the week.”
Sit? Great. What the hell was he going to say to me now about my work?
He sat in the chair in front of my desk and returned his gaze to me when he saw I didn’t budge.
“This doesn’t feel right to me,” I challenged. “I don’t agree with you just pulling up my work and making recommendations without asking me anything first.”
“There was nothing to ask. It’s a simple look and comment job. I just made a lot of comments. Are you scared to hear what I have to say?” There was that smile again.
“No.”
“Then sit.” He pointed to my chair.
I bit down hard on my back teeth and moved to sit.
“Miss Cartwright—”
“It’s Taylor. My name is Taylor.” I wouldn’t have had him call me by my first name, but him calling me Miss Cartwright reminded me of being in school. He said my name just like my old principal, who’d hated my guts because I used to get up to all kinds of trouble yet still ace all my exams without a single day of study. That threat of not working hard in school was lost on me.
“Taylor,” he amended, and I really, really hated that I loved the way he said my name. It was with a sort of eloquence of someone well-spoken but with a sexy edge. “Although you seem to have good ideas, a lot of them seem frivolous to me, and the one thing all of them have in common is you’re hemorrhaging money.”
“We are Cartwright PR of Cartwright Enterprises. We come with a certain class that is unrivalled. I spend where I see fit to maintain that quality, and in case you didn’t notice, we don’t exactly have to worry about money.” I would never cut back to make things cheaper. Never. That would be the point where people would notice that quality slipped, and inch by inch, it would be damaging to our rep.
I wasn’t about that, so he could save it if that was what he was going to tell me.
“Taylor, you don’t just spend money because you can. It’s like pissing in the wind. Pointless and fruitless with no result.”
“I don’t piss in the wind,” I shot back. “This company focuses on the image of the whole Cartwright enterprise. My campaigns are well thought out and have been massively successful in bringing this company to where it needs to be.”
“A campaign is an idea. How you go about carrying out your goals for that campaign is another story. I noticed you do the very same things and never outsource other companies or people who could achieve the same or better result for you at a cheaper rate.”
“I use companies that we’ve always used,” I shot back.
“That’s the point. Doing something you’ve always done isn’t the best of things. Same as using a service that is four times more expensive than another and all your paying for is the name. You spent one billion dollars in the last year on your campaigns. In my analysis, I found that you could have saved two million. That is a lot of money. It’s more than anyone can justify for the sake of quality when you could have done the same for less.”
I searched my mind, clutching for something I could argue, and found nothing. I hated being criticized. Hated it like nothing else when I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong.
And worse when I knew I would pull up my big girl pants and take the criticism if it could help me make improvements. It was just him.
He was getting on my last nerve. First for refusing to forget the other night, and next for finding fault with my work.
“So, what am I supposed to do, outsource the Bargain Bin and find out who does the PR?” I couldn’t hide the criticism in my voice.
He sighed with an edge of frustration and shook his head. “Nope, you do not have to do that. What I’m going to suggest is this: you look over your plans for this year, starting today. Look at the cost of the people you use, and if anyone charges anything over a grand for their services, no matter what it is they do, highlight them, and we’ll go over it. We’ll go over what it is they do and decide if we can get a better deal.”
Asshole. He was saying that because that was practically everyone on the list.
That task was also going to take forever.
“All of that is going to take me a very long time. I have things to do.”
“Your duties were placed on pause as of today. Your father has given me direct orders to focus on this project with you for the next ten weeks. We’ll sit together and go over everything.”
My mouth dropped. “So, I’m just to sit down and look at you for the next ten weeks?”
“Sweetheart, if you want to sit down and look at me for the next ten weeks, be my guest. I won’t complain. I’m not, however, here to sit down and fuck around.” I wished he weren’t smiling. It was like he was toying with me. “If I were you, I’d take note of my recommendations. I’ve already informed Peter of the wastage of money. You have your social media budget presentation next week. I highly suggest you go over all the event budgets before you do the presentation.”
This… was not good.
Not good at all. Not good for me. It hadn’t even been a proper ten minutes, and this guy had worked me up the wrong way. How was I supposed to survive the next ten weeks?
Ten weeks of him.
Was failure really that bad an option?
Chapter 5
Dylan
* * *
I tried to get to my parents every Sunday for dinner. It was a thing we’d always done after Tommy and I left home. Everyone would gather here on Sundays, and Mom would make her famous roast beef and peach cobbler that rivalled any Michelin-starred restaurant.
Today’s visit was most welcomed because I’d had the week from hell with Taylor.
Of course, it kick-started on Monday at the bar, and on Friday it ended with us arguing. She was stubborn as hell, worked my last nerve because she outrightly refused to listen to any of my advice and found a problem with all my recommendations.
The worst thing of all, however, was the more she argued, the sexier I found her. It was fucking forbidden tension. The backward and forward disagreements, then me constantly
reminding myself that she was off limits. Me reminding myself of that stipulation every day while she wore one sexy dress after another.
I’d been happy to get to the end of Friday when I walked through the doors of Cartwright PR to go home.
Today, though, was a reminder of why I’d worked so hard.
The minute I got to my parents’ house, I was sucked into their excitement.
Dad had spoken to Peter, and apparently, I’d made such an impression that Peter wanted to hire me to do the same assessment on the whole business. The whole Cartwright enterprise.
I absolutely never saw that coming. It was good in itself, but more than anything it got me back in my old man’s good graces.
When this project first came about with Taylor, I’d wanted him to trust me to do it, and he did. These results reinforced that, and I would say definitely put Patterson Inc. on the map. If Peter was using us, it would only be a matter of time before other big businesses used our consultancy too.
In fact, we hardly needed the exposure now that Peter had hired us—me—to look over the whole enterprise.
I’d had a good dinner with my parents and now, Dad and I were in the sitting room talking about the plans I had. Mom hated business talk on Sundays, but she allowed the exception just for today.
“What are your plans for this week?” Dad asked, running his hand over his beard. “I can’t think of what else you could possibly do. It’s just that I was expecting more digging to unearth any problems they had, but you’ve done it. You’ve found problems they never even knew about.” Dad chuckled.
He was absolutely right about that because Taylor didn’t know there was a problem, and she still didn’t. I wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow at all. To her, I was criticizing everything she did, but I wasn’t. Well… not in so many words.
“There’s a lot more to be done,” I replied.
“Dylan, you identified ways he could save two million dollars in just one area of the business. That’s a job done to me. How the hell did you do that?” Dad widened his eyes and held up his palms .
“I just went over the expenditure for the last year. I plan to restructure it all. That’s the plan for next week. Last week, I wanted to go over the issues I saw and help Taylor understand where she was going wrong. It looks to me like they’re using high-cost suppliers when they don’t need to. The focus next week, and probably for the rest of the time I’m there, is strategizing for more profitability in terms of savings. People overlook that. They think spending more means making more. Sometimes it does. Often times it doesn’t. Sometimes it’s spending the same, but you make more because of strategy and deeper research into the services you could be using.”
Dad nodded and seemed to hang on to my words. “Dylan, I have to admit that I wouldn’t have been able to identify all this myself.”
I laughed. “There’s no way that’s true. I’m just glad we can fix the problem and come up with something that can bring in a better ROI for the rest of the year. They’ll be amazed.”
Dad chuckled. “They’re already amazed. I never thought I’d see the day when you talked like this.”
I shrugged and smiled like it was nothing. However, it was everything.
I hadn’t always known I wanted to work for the company. I just kind of fell into working with him because it was a job.
It was the only alternative for me, who’d barely made it through college because I’d decided I had to be that guy who was the most popular on campus and had the most beautiful girls on his arm. I had to be the life of every party and the liveliest, wildest frat brother. Big man on campus. Classes were just nonsensical things I didn’t care about. So were my grades.
When I started working for Dad, I didn’t have to think too hard about anything, and Tommy always had my back. If there was something I didn’t know, I’d just ask him, and he’d tell me or help me in some way. That was how it started, then one day, we got a project with a property development company that had just been taken over by a firm of investment bankers. Tommy allowed me to take the lead because I’d had some great ideas and I loved it. I found I actually loved the job, and that was when my interest grew. The project allowed me to access what I’d learned from my barely-there passable degree in business and marketing. It was the first time in my life that I’d actually felt like I achieved something and found my niche. I liked the whole aspect of helping businesses be better at what they did. For me, it was knowing a little of everything and working with that. That was pretty much me.
On this occasion, however, I just had to bring out the asshole in me because it would make the job tons easier.
Better to be that way and not likeable in Miss Taylor Cartwright’s eyes than any other way. That was the decision I’d come to on that first meeting in her father’s office, just after she arrived six minutes late—which I didn’t give a rat’s ass about. I was just being an ass on purpose when I’d brought it up.
It was the decision I had to come to because as I’d looked at her, all I could see in front of me was her naked.
She could have been clothed from head to toe, but when I looked at her, all I could see was her beautiful naked body. Her with her perfect body begging me to touch her. And I’d walked away.
The woman was temptation. Temptation I couldn’t afford, because look…
Here was my old man sitting next to me, actually looking proud of something I had done.
Dad laughed. “You have worked some serious magic. Dylan, that’s more money than I can count. It’s more than impressive, son. You really turned things around.” He nodded.
It was a nice compliment. It just reminded me of the big changes I had to make and what made me make those changes. It was one thing to want to change for yourself, but when you knew you were constantly being compared to someone else and the person you were being compared to was dead, it was something else. And, not a nice something else.
“Thank you. I’m just glad I did something good.” Maybe I shouldn’t have said it like that. I was the one who gave myself a bad reputation, not him.
“Dylan…” Dad gave me a pointed stare. “You must understand my concerns. I couldn’t just allow you to keep going on like that. It’s bad taste, son.”
“I know. I know, and I can’t apologize enough.” I was still apologizing for the last time I’d embarrassed Dad. That was close to two years ago. He’d found me in bed with his client’s daughter. Days later, when I told her I couldn’t see her anymore, the client – who also happened to be a major investor – pulled everything and terminated all projects. The company lost a lot of money. More than a million in earning potential for the projects, and the loss of such a big investor crippled us. It was the first time I took things seriously, but not enough to stop what I was doing. Dad knew too that I was still getting up to all kinds of shit behind his back; he just never said anything because he had Tommy. He had Tommy and thought we would always have him. I thought that too. I never knew life could happen and take him from us. From me.
“It’s really nothing against your expertise as I see from what you’ve done with Cartwright PR; it’s just me showing more wisdom and tact. I want to be sure you’re ready to take the company in the direction I want it to go.”
It was amazing how much Taylor and I clashed, but really, we had this interdependent relationship. I had to help her so her father would allow her to run the PR company, and working with her got me what I wanted too. Working with her was my ticket to some form of achievement, and redemption.
“I’m ready, Dad. I’m ready, and don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you.” I thought I should throw that in so he wouldn’t have to worry. It would have been disastrous if I fucked this up in any way with all the business prospects that lay before us. This whole venture could be what we’d been looking for, and it was just one thing.
“I trust that you won’t. That’s why I gave you a chance.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Dylan, I never wanted to be a prick, but I had to be harsh
and lay down the law. It wasn’t the first time you promised me you’d change. This just feels like the first time it mattered. It’s the first time since… Tommy’s death.”
I brought my hands together to stop them from shaking.
“Yeah, it’s the first time since. I had big shoes to fill.” That’s why Dad hadn’t replaced him as business partner. Tommy’s place hadn’t been filled at the company, and realistically, the only person who could take over from him was me.
Me, the black sheep of the family. Me, the wild, reckless son who was more of an embarrassment to my old man than anything else.
Tommy’s shoes were hard to fill, and I missed him.
I probably made it look like I was jealous. Like I was a jealous prick. The truth was, sometimes I was. Sometimes I actually was jealous, but I missed him like crazy. I missed him every day. He was that guy you couldn’t be jealous of because he always had your back. Too good to feel any sort of bad feelings toward.
Definitely a better man than me.
It was just over a year ago now. Fifteen months, to be exact.
Fifteen months ago since I was forced to change my ways
I’d just gotten back from a wild trip in Aspen, and I’d landed drunk off my face. He was the first person I called, and he came to pick me up. We must have just pulled out onto the country roads when a drunk driver drove right into us. Tommy died instantly. I was in a coma for three weeks, and it took me an additional three weeks to recover enough to leave the hospital.
It was a horrific time, and worst of all, I blamed myself. I blamed myself even if no one else did because if I’d just been sober, I would have driven my car, or fuck, gotten a taxi.
In that state of mind, I’d called him. So, yes, I blamed myself, and the guilt was always worse whenever I saw the look of loss in my parents’ eyes.
It was perhaps evil of me to think they wished it was me who’d died instead of Tommy. Still, I couldn’t help my thoughts. It was what I’d thought throughout that whole time and even now.
One Last Time ?: Bad Boy Bachelors of Orange County BK 1 Page 4
