by Landra Graf
None of the crap, the run-in’s with Pru, the awkward conversations with Mark, or the accusatory attitudes of the board compared to the article this morning and having to come here to deliver all the bad news. He wanted to keep them going, to stick together through this.
The internal debate between staying with her and sparing her from being drawn into his mess lasted until he’d pulled into her driveway. In the end, protecting her from being exposed by the local media won out. Selfishness wasn’t in his capabilities deck—especially when she’d suffered lies from so many people, even been tricked into a shady deal, which Dev still couldn’t wrap his head around. She was actively fighting to keep her home. The Beautification Board wouldn’t appreciate the extra publicity, he was sure.
At the sight of the absence of hope, the light in her eyes dying out, he pulled her back in for a hug, holding her close and murmuring endearments. “Hermosa, I don’t want to, but you’ve seen the article. This situation is bad.”
She shook her head against his chest, words muffled when she spoke. “No. It’s shitty, and we know who did it.”
Taking her with him and refusing to let go, they went into the living room and sat on her couch. She’d started to cry, and he pulled out his handkerchief. This moment he’d planned differently, to involve something more uplifting, but he found himself wiped, only able to offer comfort instead of ready-made solutions.
Dabbing her tears, she released a half-hearted laugh. “Life’s no fun without challenges, so we can weather this together. As for the money, no worries. I’ve got a meeting with Kinyon and the board next Friday. A thirty-minute shot to convince them. With your help, it will be no problem. I don’t have any solutions for Bona Fide, but a little bedroom brainstorm sounds like a good plan right now.”
His brain short-circuited at her reasoning, how she dismissed his concerns and worries with simple acceptance. She’d be ruined, destroyed—an unacceptable option—and as far as the meeting went, he had another idea. “You don’t have to go to the meeting. I’ve got another plan.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll give you the money.” It sounded simple enough. He had the savings, his personal nest egg, to pull from. “Call it me replacing Mark and giving you the cash for your contract.”
“Absolutely not.” Her face, red from the tears, settled in firm rebuke.
He’d never expected her reaction. No, she had to accept the money as his means of helping, the only way he could for the moment.
“Why? It’s money. I don’t need it at the moment, and you did complete the contract. The only reason Mark isn’t paying is that he doesn’t have it. He promised money he couldn’t deliver. This will be like me giving him a loan.”
She stood, moving across the room. The action held weight as if she’d broken the tether holding them together. He wanted to gather her back to him, to stop this day from becoming worse.
When she faced him, she looked downright pissed. “That’s as bad as the whole excuse we made about me not being a client. I justified it, so did you, but the fact remained that technically I was a client, right? That’s why we’re dealing with this article now.”
“We’re not dealing with the article. I am. That’s why I’m saying this thing between us has to stop for the time being. I’ve got a board meeting Friday, and technically you were not my client when we slept together. Maybe when we kissed, but things happen. We kept our relationship professional. I just have to provide the details to the board; they are worried about public perception. We’re not a huge company, but we have a large client base. Rumors about that sort of thing could affect the bottom line. But I refuse to drag you into it. So far the news article doesn’t know who you are, and we need to keep it that way.”
He’d rambled to reassure himself as much as her. Sure, a part of him worried about the board’s final judgment of his future with the company. As for the actual news about him sleeping with clients getting out to his existing client base—the cat was out of the bag.
“So, now I’m a paid lover and too embarrassing for anyone to know about.” She paced back and forth, slow, measured steps, which set his gut to churning with disgust at how his words sounded to her ears.
“No, not in the least. I’m trying to protect you, keep you safe. This publicity won’t look good if you want to go before the Beautification Board, but I’m also offering a way to avoid a fight where people might judge you for your association with me.” He wanted to stand up and go to her, to melt away the issues with kisses. Like a natural predator, her posture and the tension in her frame told him to stay away.
“What happened to solving our issues together, not sweeping everything under the rug like we have something to hide? To sticking through all the bullshit, even the crap cooked up by your ex?”
“Sounds awful when you put it like that, and I already explained this.”
She pointed a finger at him. “No, you justified it with fucked-up excuses; at heart, it’s still dirty. Look at this from my perspective. You’re amazing, marvelous, and talented. You engaged in sexual relations with your partner’s cousin, a woman in desperate need of money, which you’d be giving me for nothing. That doesn’t look suspicious. Then you add to that the idea you’ll call things off for the sake of public image, and once everything dies down we’ll be together again. Not a story I’ve heard before.
Anything you say doesn’t really matter because I’d still feel the same way… used with the idea of owing you money or taking it for having sex with you hanging over my head. Waiting for you and hoping you’ll stay interested, when leaving means you’re not.”
“What are you saying, exactly?” Dev stood up, worried. The words were one thing, but her demeanor, the crossed arms, closing herself off again... Dulce Madre.
“This has got to stop. I don’t want your so-called help or money. I need to focus on a viable solution, and this meeting is the best option. I want there to be an us, but I won’t be cut loose again, left in the dark waiting for you to figure out when I’m worth it. I am sorry, but I can’t. In the past, I gave everything to help my ex and he repaid me with leaving and insults. My parents left me with my grandmother as soon as they decided I was too much for them to handle. You’ve decided to do the same thing, like them.”
Those words were like a knife, worse than the confession about the contract. Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen for this woman—her brisk language, her carefree behaviors, and all her quirks. He found her endearing, incredibly sexy and soft in the all the places he was hard. But to say those things now would serve no purpose.
He’d be another man trying to bend her to his will, to convince her to take his assistance and carve out the strong ideals she employed to protect herself. Dev grasped her meaning, how she’d come to view him as the bad guy, as the man abandoning her instead of sticking to his commitments. Her fears were manifested by his need to protect. She’d never understand his ultimate goal, how he cared enough for her to keep her away from the worst of things to come.
“I can’t change your mind?”
“Oh, Dev.” She dropped her arms and sighed. “You’re asking me to be okay with stuff I can’t be.”
“This isn’t going to last forever.”
“Yes, you’re right, but the fact remains you’re willing to sacrifice us, the ‘us’ right now, for saving your image. I can’t be with someone now, or ever, who puts me second to themselves. We’re either together, a team, or we’re not.”
More heartbreaking words, strong and empowering. He’d never seen a stronger woman before in his life. She stuck to her ideals, her guns. Here he’d thought to defeat the dragon, and she’d stopped being afraid of it. But he couldn’t abandon his own fear.
“All right, I’ll respect your decision.”
Kat’s frame relaxed, the tension lines on her forehead smoothed away. “I wish you luck and hate that I can’t change your mind. Thank you for letting me leave this with some dignity.”
“You�
��re welcome.” The words were hollow, and the guilt real he held was because he didn’t respect the decision. In truth, he wanted to yell at it. To declare that love meant sometimes giving up what you cared about the most if it was for their own good. He’d let her have this moment, let her win because splitting up kept her safe. But as soon as the dust settled, he’d be back, and he’d lay claim to his princess.
20
Kat lasted about twenty seconds after she shut the door behind Dev before she broke down in tears. What started as some simple water streaks turned her into a sobbing, shaking mess. Dread climbed the emotional trellis of her body to gain a front row seat at her meltdown. She needed to gain some control over her reactions, but once more, she faced her problems on her own. The one man, the one she’d somehow given her heart to along the way, had offered her a choice that would leave her in debt to him. Not to mention she’d been waiting and hoping he would still be interested in her when all this grief with his company’s public image was settled. Sure, he said breaking up was to keep her from being subjected to ridicule and being judging for something she shouldn’t be judged for, but in her mind it was bullshit.
Love conquered all, right? In this case, it appeared not. She’d never shared her feelings; he hadn’t either. They’d kept their relationship to the physical, which could be summed up as being her fault as much as his.
This mess called for an early bedtime. Sure, she could’ve called Betty, sobbed some more, and complained about how she was an idiot for falling for Dev after everything. Ultimately, she didn’t want to hear the feedback, listen to the pity, or be encouraged to go out. Being around people would be a bad idea.
She’d solve her problems tomorrow. Right now, sleeping off another horrible day seemed like a good idea.
The article prompted an emergency powwow Sunday afternoon at Bona Fide. Dev, Mark, and Victoria sequestered themselves in Dev’s office. He’d gathered them after his morning jog, which had gone from two miles to five. The extra distance hadn’t cleared away the anger and frustration at Pru, the article, and the way Kat’s words ate away at him.
The texts he’d received from Victoria over the last twelve hours were all about the message forwarding service receiving more than twelve calls, quadruple what they received on a normal weekend. Things were taking a turn for the worse, and then came the agenda topic addition from Pru to discuss, quote, “Bona Fide’s bad press and how they would solve it,” unquote.
They’d already spent a week answering Pru’s request for more info. She wanted Mark to supply a complete P&L report for the year as well as a month–by-month breakout with analytic tracking, a detailed list of clients, active and non-active, and any clients owing the company money. He didn’t feel sorry for Mark, who’d gotten stuck with a bunch of shit work, but he did regret Victoria getting roped into helping. She’d happily told Pru she was the worst, with a smile on her face, and once more Dev put up with Pru asking why he never fired such a rude employee. He’d never dignified her with a response and focused on keeping up with work.
Now they were all present with a bottle of scotch and three glasses. The newspaper sat on his desk. The headline for the investigative title read, “Image Consultant Caught in Shady Dealings—Bona Fide is not genuine.”
“Have you both seen this?”
Mark stood and looked at it while pouring some scotch into a glass. “Yes, got an eyeful yesterday morning, or I decided to after my mother called to say she didn’t believe it.”
“I didn’t read it,” Victoria replied before getting her own glass of amber liquid. “But based on the messages, I’ve heard enough. Who published this garbage?”
“Some investigative reporter named Daniel. He doesn’t name his source, but I think we can guess who it is.” Dev wanted to call Pru and give her a mouthful, something as hateful and vindictive as she was. It wouldn’t change the scathing article in front of him.
Victoria smarted off. “Not surprising in the least. What’s the worst of it?”
“Basically”—Mark took a quick a drink of scotch—“our intrepid reporter accuses Dev of sleeping with at least two clients while they did business with Bona Fide, and the presumption has been made there may be more women who haven’t come forward. There’s also a mention or two of him using his charm, talent, and position to take advantage of women who are already suffering from low self-esteem. He preys on them and gets them to agree to things they never would have normally. The article muses that this may be why we’re getting more patronage. Coupled with female consultants on staff and an increasing amount of male clientele, we may be running a very expensive full-service business.”
Dev put the empty highball glass on the coffee table in front of him, and the scotch scorched a path down his throat. “They accused our company of being an escort service or brothel. Take your pick; either one damns us.”
“That would explain all the clients canceling the need for services. Each call is either a corporation or some referral reneging on their appointment. Whoever said people don’t read the newspaper is dead wrong.”
“Salacious stories make good news. The shitty part is the assumptions are libel. They are based on an anonymous source we can’t disprove, at least the parts about running an escort service anyway. The statement of me sleeping with two clients is technically true.”
Victoria sat up in her seat, “What?”
“I may have engaged in some sexual activities with a woman who had ties to Bona Fide.”
“Kathleen?” His wide-eyed secretary was damn smart.
“The one and the same.”
Mark didn’t say a thing. He sat there smug-faced, and polished off his first glass of scotch before refilling.
“How? Wait, I don’t want to know. This royally fucked us, didn’t it? You’re telling me we don’t have a court case. What can we do?”
She’d laid the fine points out perfectly. They were being bent over and told to enjoy the ride. From a public relations standpoint, the only way out involved proving they weren’t an escort service. He refused to give Pru a win. Also, he wouldn’t deny his time or activities with Kat. The only consolation was that she’d broken up with him and insulated herself from this nonsense, the fact that this little article destroyed his efforts to eliminate the obstacles to them being together notwithstanding.
“We can put ourselves at the mercy of the investors.” Mark decided to chime in now. “Without those corporate accounts, we are sitting ducks. They comprised most of our net income for the fourth quarter. Them pulling out guarantees we’ll need to let a few folks go. We could review the list today. I’m going to have to re-crunch all the numbers again, especially the forecasts and estimated P&L for the end of the year. It’s a big fucking mess.”
Victoria shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re talking about letting people go with roughly eight weeks to Christmas. You’re an asshole, Mark.”
“When it’s true, it’s true.” Mark shrugged his shoulders.
“What would the investors want, any ideas?” He loved how even Victoria, at her worst, didn’t replace her kind heart, unlike some of the folks in the room. She wanted the best for all of them like he did.
“They want Dev’s resignation. At least that’s what they promised to ask for in the past. With the PR nightmare, I imagine it will be much of the same. We’ll have to restructure things and get a new face for the company.”
Victoria turned on Mark, fire in her eyes. “The company is nothing without him.” She pointed at Dev. “He built this damn thing from the ground up and now has to suffer because he fell in love with a woman and it pissed his ex off.”
“Wait, wait, wait… I never said I fell in love. I said I slept with her.”
The eye from this snappy, smart-mouthed woman would’ve intimidated most men. Dev flashed her a sassy look of his own.
“You punched your best friend earlier this week over a woman. Last time I checked, the Devid I knew wasn’t a fan of physical violence. Calling
it, and I quote, ‘unmanly.’” She was right. He’d never wanted to hit things until the last two weeks. Violence and physical harm were things he’d left behind in high school. There were better ways to solve problems.
“Mark deserved it.”
“I’d like to point out how you’re both talking about me like I’m not here.” Mark didn’t sound upset by the fact but more bored than anything. “Also, none of this gets us anywhere closer to solving our problem.”
The asshole in the room was right. Pru wanted his blood, wanted to punish him, and she’d try to convince the board it was his fault for the bad PR and that the only way to fix things would be to oust him. Hell, she could even harm the work he was doing with the shelter, tainted by association. He didn’t want to call Theresa about the televisions he’d purchased for them. What if they refused the gifts? The number of things he could possibly lose because of one damning article from a jealous, hateful woman scratched at his heart, leaving it open and raw. The option to hide was not on the table. Mark and Vic were still going back and forth, the debate heated. When she stood up, Dev finally decided to speak.
“Stop it, whatever you two are arguing about this time. Mark’s right; they will want me to resign. Bona Fide will have to change, but change can be good. Let’s see what we can come up with to swing this in our favor. We should assemble a list of all the consultants, their feedback, etc. I think if we review them, figure out which one might be able to take on the mantle as the face of our company, it’d be good, right? Let’s pull numbers and names for a PR specialist as well. I’d rather have a plan for whatever demands the board has and present them with viable alternatives to show we’re capable. We can run numbers on employee salaries and expenses through the end of the year. No bonuses, no Christmas party, cut where we can. Mark, you can get all the info put together, right?”
