But what she had to concern herself with most of all was that she liked the way he looked in his suit. She liked it even better when he rolled up his sleeves. As an employee she should have no physical attraction to her employer. Certainly no emotional attachment.
If it was too late to prevent the physical attraction, she should back out now. It was the only sensible decision.
“What do you say?”
“I’ll do it.”
The words were out before she could stop them. She couldn’t help herself. She felt caught up in his infectiousness. She wanted to stand up and give everyone a new car. More than that she wanted to show everyone what a person who was committed to something could accomplish, no matter what the odds.
An inner voice told her she’d tried that before. Look at where it led you.
But that was seven years ago. Maybe it was time she started counting, after all.
“That’s great. That’s very cool. I’m…pleased.”
Madeleine nodded. She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a contract. “This is a standard contract from the Tyler Group. It breaks down my rates, services and expenses. You should have your attorneys look it over.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He signed and dismissed the paper without even looking at it.
“I hate to be blunt, but you really should consider going over the contract first. The Tyler Group isn’t cheap and my rider, while not diva level, is still extensive.”
“I don’t want cheap. I want the best. I’ll pay whatever you’re asking. It’s done.”
Madeleine smiled. “That will make Ben happy. Okay, then we should establish a time to start.”
“Right now.”
“Now? Surely you have other matters to attend to and will need to rearrange your calendar, Mr. Langdon.”
“It’s Michael. And I don’t. This is the most important thing to me. I know this is going to take time. You don’t change your image overnight. The sooner we get started, the sooner I get what I want. The CEOs I’m trying to convince aren’t easy pushovers. I’m talking about Carter, Blakely, Rodgers and Smithfield.”
The current leaders of the four largest car companies in America. He was right, convincing one of those men to take a risk would be hard enough, convincing one of them to take a risk with him was something altogether difficult. Maybe impossible. But he had her on his side.
Madeleine pulled out her laptop and powered it up. “Well, we need to begin with my parameters. As I said, I don’t intend to have anything to do with your spotlight. I will not do PR from the front line. I will not do direct media interviews or issue press releases in my name. I will, however, work my media contacts and connect you with the people I think can help, but I will do so discreetly.”
“Yeah, yeah. But hear me out. I know the whole big scandal and everything.”
That was one way to describe it.
“Before all that, you were really respected. Revered even. I’m thinking you hanging around a bum like me might be a good thing. Your presence alone could gain me respect.”
She could see in his eyes that he truly believed what he was saying. A flush of emotion overcame her and for a moment she feared she would tear up. She swallowed it and took a breath.
“While I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Langdon…”
“Michael. Please say my name.”
His tone took her off guard. Not annoyed. Not angry. Merely insistent.
“Michael.” The name came out of her mouth sounding like a sigh. “I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what happened. Trust me when I tell you being seen with the former president’s mistress will not gain you any public-relations points. If anything it will make you more of a joke.”
“So you slept with your boss. It’s not the first time that’s ever happened. It’s not like you’re Jezebel.”
According to her father she was. In fact it was the last word he’d ever said to her.
“It doesn’t matter. You need to trust me. My presence will not help you. My advice can. You wanted to know where to start?”
“Yes.”
“Then we start with the people who gave you your image in the first place. You’ll need to use the media—only this time on your terms. You’ll need to identify several well-known charities you can link your name with.”
“I already have a charity.”
Madeleine knew he donated generously to a jobs program that helped inmates transition when they left prison. “Yes, but we’ll need something more high profile. I know it sounds self-serving and the idea of charity is to be selfless, but in this case we have no choice. I’m thinking environmental causes. Attaching yourself to the green movement will seem to give you purpose when you present your idea to the people you want to partner with. It raises the stakes on the whole project.”
Michael stood and paced a little behind his desk while Madeleine used her computer to call up events that might be newsworthy.
“There, in two days. And bonus—it’s local. There is a charity being hosted by Solarcomp. They are the group that promotes…”
“I know who they are.”
“For five thousand dollars a plate you can attend, for twenty thousand a plate you can sit at a table with the former vice president who believes solar energy is the key to our clean-energy future.”
Michael stopped his pacing and faced her. “I’m not opposed to the environmental causes.”
“That’s good. Few people are.”
“I meant… I want you to know…you…that I’m not launching this car for purely altruistic reasons. I’m a businessman. I have what I believe is a good idea. I want to make money from it. If in the end it saves people money and helps the environment that’s gravy, but it’s not what I’m about.”
Madeleine looked at him. “Why do you think it’s important I should know that?”
“I don’t want to be a fraud to you. I don’t want you to think I’m something I’m not.”
Madeleine considered that. “I think you’re a businessman, in need of a new reputation. I think your cause is worthy and I’ve already accepted the position. You don’t have to prove anything to me, Mr.…”
“Don’t do it.”
“Michael. You don’t have anything to prove to me, Michael.”
“Of course I don’t. I wanted you to know the score. That’s all.”
“Okay. Well, let’s talk about Solarcomp’s Night of Lights event. According to the website I can still get you two seats at the five-thousand-dollar level. Given the attendees it should definitely garner some media attention. Plus, the former vice president has a new book coming out. We need to talk about your escort.”
“Escort? That’s an old-fashioned word.”
“Your date.”
“That can’t be you? Right?”
Madeleine felt a zing of reaction whiz through her body. She wasn’t sure if it was fear, revulsion at the idea of being seen at an event or something else she wasn’t going to put a name to.
She met his eyes and searched them for meaning. When he looked back at her directly she could see his intentions. He wasn’t asking her on a date. He was simply reiterating his point that he thought it was a good idea to be seen with her.
He was wrong.
“Michael, do you trust me to do my job?”
“Of course. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“Then please don’t ever ask me something like that again. I’ve told you I’m poison. I mean this not in a self-deprecating way, but in the cold, hard fact way.”
“Maybe I want a beautiful woman on my arm.”
“Do an internet search on your name, then click the images page. I’m sure you’ll find you always have a beautiful woman on your arm.”
He dug his hands into his pants pockets and said nothing.
“We need to talk about who she will be.”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not really involved with anyone right now.”
“Do you h
ave any ideas of who you might call? Anyone who could be available on short notice?”
He met her eyes steadily. “There are a few who would come on short notice. Why does it matter?”
“Because one of the things we want to try to countermand is your playboy image. A different girl every week, every event, every red carpet, lends itself to that. If you could possibly settle on one…”
Michael’s jaw dropped. “You want me to start a relationship with a woman because it would be good for my reputation?”
Madeleine inwardly sighed. She was working with an amateur. Which meant she needed patience. Amateurs didn’t understand that everything counted. Every word, every action, every picture printed in the media, was its own story. To create an image one had to be in control of every element of his life. What he said, what he ate, who he saw publicly. Politicians knew this. To a certain extent so did the Hollywood elite, although their cultivated image was often more radical than a politician’s.
She had to admit she was a little stunned by how quickly and easily it all came back. After years of researching and writing position papers, here she was, doing what she knew how to do best. It was thrilling and daunting considering who she had to work with. But to have a challenge, a real challenge in her life, she could feel the adrenaline pulsing beneath her skin.
“Of course not. I want you to consider if there is a woman in your life who you are more partial to than others. Being seen with the same woman at multiple events implies a relationship even if there truly isn’t one. It shows stability, maturity and lends itself to the new image we want to cultivate for you, that you are someone to be trusted.”
“Wow. That’s pretty…cold.”
Madeleine stood and closed her laptop. “Michael, everything you do from now on will be screened by me. I’ll determine your tie-color choice, the events where you will be seen and yes, if I can have some say in the woman you choose to escort to these events, that will be helpful. There is no emotion in these decisions, no personal stake. I’m going to help you tell the best story you can and the rest is up to you. Are you still certain you want to do this?”
“I have no choice, do I?”
Madeleine shook her head. “We always have choices.”
“Is that what you told yourself when it all came crashing down around you? That your choices led to your fall?”
She didn’t detect any bitterness in his question. Merely curiosity. So she answered him.
“It’s exactly what I told myself.”
* * *
MICHAEL WATCHED HER leave with the same twitchy feeling he suffered the day before. Only this time it was easy to shake it off since he knew she would be back. What was it about her?
She was right: he was used to attractive women. Women more glamorous, more blatantly sexual. On the two days he’d seen her, she had been wearing a dark gray business suit then a black business suit. Both austere, both unassuming. She could have been an FBI agent for all her flash. Still when she was around him, he felt something.
Something instinctual.
Free to pace now that she was gone, he trod back and forth in his plushly carpeted office. He never liked to overdo it in front of people. He only ever allowed himself a few back-and-forths before forcing himself to stay still. Pacing could be construed as a sign of nerves or anxiety, which obviously wasn’t something he wanted to communicate to people. For him it was a bad habit. One he picked up in prison as a way to deal with being confined in a cell. As long as he kept moving he could cope with the tight space. It was when he stopped that he felt like the walls would start to close in on him.
So Madeleine wanted him to take a woman to the charity event. And not just any woman. But a woman he might consider taking to more than a handful of events. A woman he might consider spending enough time with that the media could start using the word relationship.
The idea was laughable. The women were there for a purpose. He knew she thought he was naive at the game they were playing, creating an image, manipulating the press to think what he wanted them to think, but the truth was he was a master craftsman.
At least at creating the bad-boy persona. He knew how to present himself so people would see what he wanted them to see. He didn’t know how to do that and come off as respectable. That’s why he’d reached out to Ben.
Michael knew Madeleine Kane was a member of Ben’s team and he knew about the scandal involving her and the president peripherally. He’d been in Europe at the time and his racing career had started its meteoric rise. An American sex scandal made the news, but in Europe they always thought Americans took sex too seriously so the story was only casually mentioned.
If a man had a mistress, so be it. If the woman chose to be that mistress, her choice. The president was a powerful man. Who wouldn’t want his attention?
Michael tried to reconcile the woman in his office with the star of the scandal. She was so buttoned up. So locked down as if every word she said and every movement she made was carefully considered. How had a woman like that tempted the president?
What the hell was he saying? She only had to look at Michael and he was… He didn’t know what he was. He couldn’t say aroused. Maybe intrigued. Something.
He needed information. Sitting at his desk he called up a search engine and started to type. It wasn’t difficult. Key in Madeleine Kane and President and there were hundreds of pictures, articles and blogs related to the subject.
She wasn’t overplaying the size of the scandal. Looking at the time frame, it had gone on for months. Even after she’d resigned and the First Lady filed for divorce from President Marlin, the press continued to pursue her. Unlike his predecessor, who had once been in the center of a sexual scandal, this president didn’t lie about the affair. He came clean quickly and apologized profusely.
No crime had been committed and as a result no charges of impeachment were filed against him. After several months it died a slow death and he went about the job of running the country. He was not reelected but Michael thought that had more to do with his jobs policy than it did the sex scandal.
Madeleine never reentered the political arena and after a two-year hiatus in media attention, there was a blip of an article announcing her addition to the Tyler Group.
Not a surprise Ben would go after her. He collected great minds like most people collected coins. His group was part think tank, part troubleshooters, all brains. If someone needed a job done and didn’t have the skills or the necessary people on hand to accomplish the task, they contacted Ben.
The Tyler Group was like a brainy version of the A-Team. Selling their specific set of skills for a price.
In Europe, Michael had met Ben while he was still an operative for the CIA. Michael actually liked to think he’d helped him out on a mission, but all he’d really done was act as a carrier pigeon. Still, it was as close to James Bond as he’d ever gotten. For whatever reason, Ben had seen through the image of the hard-drinking, hard-gambling, hard-sexing playboy. As though he’d been wearing special-colored glasses.
At first he had balked at Ben’s request that Michael help him out. Until the idea of doing something right for a good cause settled in his stomach and made him feel…better about himself.
Ben thought he was in Michael’s debt. The reality was the opposite. Meeting Ben and getting to know him helped Michael grow up. Ben wasn’t just some government agent. He was a man who cared deeply about his country and the work he did for it. It had been such a simple chore he’d asked Michael to do. When Michael asked, “Why me?” Ben said it was time for Michael to do something for someone else.
He’d been right. And it had been another step in the path that had eventually helped him to get his life back when it seemed as if prison had taken it all away.
At least part of his life.
Michael finally pushed away from the computer, tired of reading the sordid details of Madeleine’s past. Somehow he doubted the affair was quite as dirty as the press made it out to be
. One article mentioned toys, another the president’s need to be dominated, of all things.
He could see Madeleine wielding a whip. He couldn’t imagine her doing something as silly as smacking a man’s bare ass with it.
No, if Madeleine was going to take out a whip she would have a much more useful purpose. Michael smiled as he shut down his computer. After a moment he got up and started pacing again.
Right, then left. Right, then left.
CHAPTER THREE
“HOW ARE things going with the new girl?”
Michael handed down a crescent wrench to Archie. Instantly an image of Madeleine appeared in his mind, but Archie didn’t know anything about Madeleine. No one did.
She was like the Wizard of Oz behind the curtain secretly pulling all the strings. Any consulting was done either by phone or occasionally after hours in his office. Mostly she coached him on answers to questions that might be put to him when a microphone was shoved in his face. And of course she was always plotting ways to get him to those places where the microphones might be.
He’d asked her to visit his home in Grosse Pointe. He thought she could stay in one of his guest rooms, which would be more comfortable than a sterile hotel suite. She’d stiffened and told him in no uncertain terms that there was not a single reason for her to see his personal residence.
No stepping out of bounds for his girl.
Not his girl.
She wasn’t even remotely his girl. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. A condition that was becoming as problematic as it was annoying.
“Which new girl?”
“The one you went to that fancy shindig with. The actress. What’s her name. You know, she was in that movie with that fancy guy.”
“Charlene Merritt. She was in a movie with George Clooney.”
“Yeah, that guy. He’s sharp. No Cary Grant, but then who is today?”
One Final Step Page 3
