I’m not complaining, but Theo’s been acting a bit weird lately. It’s been weeks since don’t go on a date, and by day, at work, he barely talks to me. Is he tired of me? Has he set his eyes on a new toy? Sometimes I think bad boys will always be bad, and his behavior these days is not encouraging. Am I not enough to keep him on the right track?
I’ve been acting impatient too, it’s true –there haven’t been any news about dad’s company, and I fear the recovery won’t happen, which would mean our agreement is doomed. This is unsettling, not only because I’ve realized I love Theo and I’m perversely OK with having been bought by him, but more importantly because I’m starting to suspect that he’s lied to me and is just manipulating my feelings to keep me by his side. Maybe he never had the intention to let my father buy back Everwood Press. Maybe he’s just trying to keep me around for a while longer.
These gloomy thoughts fill my mind as I prepare for tonight. I get on the limo and start shopping around. I take my time to choose every item, more than usual. I’m always unsatisfied with what I’ve chosen (who isn’t, after all?), but today it’s worse: I can barely find any joy in this shopping spree. I send a message to Callie to see if she’s free to join the fun, but she’s out on her own date with her own billionaire boyfriend. Oh well.
After a couple of hours, I go back to the Joker with a nice red dress, a pair of expensive shoes, and a pair of silver earrings. I’ve also bought a choker that I won’t be wearing at dinner but is sure to fuel his darkest and wildest fantasies in the aftertime. But at dinner, I’ll be wearing the locket he gave me.
When the night comes, I get a call from Theo.
“Go,” he says. “The limo is waiting for you at the door.”
“The limo...? Is... is this not a date?”
“It is,” he replies. “He’s waiting for you at the bistro.”
“I’m sorry. Who’s waiting for me?”
He talks to me slowly and deliberately, as if I were failing to understand a very simple concept.
“Your date. Your date is waiting for you at the bistro.”
I freeze in place. For a minute, I’m at a loss of words. If he’s not my date, then who? And why would he set me up with someone else? This is completely ridiculous. Also, insulting.
“Are you pimping me?”
“Of course I’m not,” he says, his deep voice grazing my ear like his hand grazes my arm sometimes above the elbow, with puzzling gentleness. “I’m playing you as a card. Does that make you horny, or what?”
* * *
When I arrive at the bistro, my date is already there, just like Theo said. He’s sitting at the table, his hair impeccably combed, his shirt spotless, his smile wide and enthusiastic when he sees me walk in, escorted by the server. There’s no denying that Sandor Vandell knows how to make an impression.
“Sandor,” I say, offering him my hand. He takes it gently in his hand and kisses it. I don’t say anything else because I don’t know whether to confess that I didn’t know who my date was or to feign that I had asked to meet him. I guess I will know in just a minute.
“Lara,” he says. “Please.” He moves my chair so that I can sit in front of him. Then he sits down again. “You look wonderful.”
“Oh, thank you,” I reply. “This is a nice place. Really nice.”
“It is,” he concurs. “Are you hungry? We can order if you want, then we can talk.”
I browse the menu trying to concentrate on all the fancy names for the dishes, but I’m really thinking about why I’m here, what Sandor wants, and why Theo set up this weird date. It’s true that I was eager to talk to Vandell, but here, now, in this way, it’s super awkward. I order a lasagna more or less randomly. Sandor orders some sorrentini and chooses the wine.
“So, you want to talk about that one acquisition,” he says. “I want you to know that everything can be fixed.”
Why is he making this offer so quickly? Now that I look at him with more attention, he looks a bit nervous. Well, more than a bit. I make a startling realization: he knows who I am. And if I must judge by his expression, he’s eager to make up for my loss.
I shuffle several scenarios in my mind. Theo could have told him that I’m Lara Everwood and asked him to make the necessary amends to save my father’s publishing house. Or Sandor could have realized who I was when he saw me talking to Marcus at the coffee shop. If so, he must have been uncomfortable when he realized that I was now Theo’s right hand (or so he thinks). None of these scenarios explains why Theo wanted both of us to meet here and talk, instead of just making a decision and communicating it to Sandor, or just asking me what I wanted to do.
“Everything?” I ask, hiding my cluelessness. “At this point? How would we do that?”
He starts talking about timing, calls, procedures. He mentions his friend Ned, who knows everything about the business. He talks fast, too fast, and I notice he’s sweating a bit. Amazed, I watch as he tries to explain why Everwood Press has strategic value, even though the Lambert Group is not interested in the publishing business. He mentions buying and reselling assets, giving preferential options, and many other things that are too technical for me. When the waiter comes with my lasagna and his sorrentini, he’s still talking, and I’m letting him talk.
“So,” I finally tell him, “you say you can fix it? But why? Did Theo told you to?”
“Oh, Theo will be completely on board with this,” Sandor assures me, making ample gestures with his hands. “Don’t worry about it. He’s not that interested in Everwood after all. He...”
“Is he not?”
“Not personally,” Sandor explains, trying to sound cool, but his face is reddening now. “This was a strategic decision. He doesn’t always make those decisions. That’s what I’m here for. I evaluate the market and sometimes I advice him or buy...”
“... without telling him?”
Sandor stops dead and stares at me with his eyes wide open. His face is now turning pale at record speed.
“Oh, no, no, I tell him about every operation, of course,” he protests.
“But you don’t necessarily tell him what it means,” I say calmly. “You don’t tell him, for example, that Everwood is a publishing house, and has less than zero value for his business. You don’t tell him that you could get a piece of land in the same area in some other way. In fact, there’s a thousand ways to make a valuable operation, but you don’t tell him that. You just ask him to sign some papers.”
“I— I will fix it, Lara, I promise. Anything to make you smile,” he says, leaning forward and giving me an ample smile himself, making wide gestures, and generally overacting. He seems to have forgotten his food. Also, is he hitting on me now? His hand is suddenly touching mine, and his blue eyes are fixated on my eyes.
I take a sip of wine as understanding explodes inside my brain like a neutron bomb. My skin flushes as the enormity of what I’ve just heard takes hold of my brain. Theo never set out to take over Everwood Press. It was all Sandor’s doing. Why? I can barely consider the question. My whole quest has changed.
“OK, OK. Just tell me this, Sandor: how do you know Marcus?”
Sandor gives me a look of utter defeat. He knows that I know. He wasn’t sitting at a nearby table that day. He’d been talking to Marcus, discussing the details of the secret operation they shared. They both were traitors. Marcus had manipulated the numbers in Everwood Press to make my father and the board think the company was in deep trouble and the shares were worth way less than they thought; Sandor had made up an excuse to get Theo interested in buying that stock dirt cheap. They were just two rats in different nests, doing rat things together. I happened to walk into the coffee shop when Sandor was going to the bathroom, or maybe paying the check at the bar; I had interrupted their secret talk of betrayal. Undoubtedly, they had resumed it soon after. That’s how Sandor knows who I am.
I’m boiling inside, and part of me wants to slay him on the spot, but in a way, I pity him. He’s done a lot
of harm, but he’s just a minor player trying to play with the big guys. Theo is the big guy here, and I’m his girl, and Sandor knows full well that I can crush him like a cockroach with just a word.
And Marcus? Dad will kill Marcus too, if I say a word to him.
“We— we’ve been talking about this”, Sandor begins. “The operation...”
“Of course,” I say, and raise my hand to signal that he may stop talking already. Then I let it rest on the beautiful locket adorning my neck. A horse. Such a noble animal. “The operation. Thanks for the date, Sandor. It was a lot of fun.”
As I walk out of the bistro, part of my soul is debating between revenge and mercy. Another part is burning in desire. It just wants to call Theo and love him so hard.
* * *
Half an hour later, Theo walks into my apartment. I’m already there, waiting for him.
“Well, hello,” he says, failing to hide his surprise.
I’m standing in the middle of the room, completely naked. The only thing I’m wearing is the silver chain with the locket he gave me in London.
“Will you take me now, Theo?” I ask in a toyish voice. “Do you want me? Or maybe you want this?” My eyes look down, meeting the locket. I know exactly what it is.
“I want it... and I want you,” he replies, fumbling with the buttons in his shirt.
“You’ll have both,” I assure him, taking a step forward. “I only hope you’ve recorded everything.”
20. TRICKS OF THE TRADE
They say time flies when you’re having fun, and we’ve had a lot of fun last night. This morning I feel like a wreck, but in a good way. After my tense “date” with Sandor, with all its shocking revelations, and the steamy session of wild sex that I had with Theo, I can barely stay awake. I’ve drank three cups of coffee since I woke up, and if Theo hadn’t been there lying beside me, nobody would have been able to make me leave the bed. But his sweet kisses are magical, energizing.
We are both in his office, waiting for Sandor Vandell to arrive. Theo has stacked some papers on his desk and is now opening various windows in his computer. Meanwhile, I’m texting dad to let him know of the news. There was no time... or energy... for that last night. It all felt like a long, hot, marvellous minute, and then came the blessed sleep. Too little of it.
When Sandor enters the room, he knows he’s condemned. His expression reveals that he’s determined to fight, though. Maybe he’s endured Theo’s “punishment” sessions before, but oh boy, betrayal is a completely different thing.
“Come in, please,” Theo says, in a perfectly polite tone. He gestures indicating a chair, and the head of acquisitions sits down, crossing his legs and sending a vengeful look my way. I’m sitting a few inches from the desk, so I’m located in between both men.
“Good morning,” Sandor says.
“Sandor,” Theo begins, with a neutral expression, “I won’t go into much detail about what you revealed last night. There’s no denying it now, since it’s all recorded in an audio file. You see, I had provided our friend Lara with a transmitter which –unbeknownst to her at the time– was capturing your conversation as you talked in the bistro. This transmitter was in plain view for both of you, in the form of a locket shaped as a horse. Please don’t try to argue that you didn’t say what we heard and recorded.”
“Fair enough,” Sandor says. “I own up to it. I maintain that I always acted in good faith, even when I didn’t explain everything to you. As an expert in acquisitions, I know the market, and if I tell you that buying some company is a good strategic move, it’s because I truly think so.”
“Oh, yes, yes. That’s all fine and dandy,” Theo says. “The question in any case is: strategic for who?” He fumbled a bit with his papers, grabbed one seemingly at random, looked at it as if it was the first time he saw it, and continued. “Last night, Lara realized what you had done, aided by your friend Marcus. I had figured it out some time earlier, when I did my research on her. You know, I like to know who I work with, especially when we work so closely.” He winks at me, making me blush. “In the process of figuring out who she was, I discovered what you were doing. The question was why. Will you tell me now, Sandor, or will I have to explain my latest findings?”
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Theo,” Sandor says.
“Oh, I think you do,” Theo objects. “A man who knows the market knows what he wants to do, and why. You know the market, and I know my men.”
Sandor may be lying, but I, for one, have no idea what Theo is talking about. I can’t begin to comprehend why Sandor would be interested in fucking with my dad’s publishing house. I only know that he did, for whatever reason.
“When I started reading about Everwood Press, I realized I didn’t know a thing about that market,” Theo continues. “Obviously, I needed to know more. So I kept reading. You know what? There’s competition in the publishing world, too. In the case of Everwood Press, there are several companies that compete for the same market. Everwood was the most successful... until this mess happened. It was followed closely by this other company, WildImprints. Have you heard about it?”
“Of course,” I blurt out, before realizing that Theo’s question was directed to Vandell. He kept silent.
“Yes, you have,” Theo says, “and Sandor has, too. Sandor, can you guess who’s been buying WildImprints shares more or less at the same time that we bought Everwood stock?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He rotates his monitor so that both Sandor and I can see what it’s showing. It’s a spreadsheet, a listing with several columns. One of them shows a name, the same name repeated in every entry; the other columns are dates and numbers. The numbers are vaguely astronomical. The name is a name I know very well.
Sandor Vandell.
“Sandor, I know my men like a shark knows other sharks, and I know these numbers like a shark knows food. These numbers are telling a story. Can you read it?”
“I can,” I say. It’s a really simple story, boiling down to plain deceit, ambition, and treason. Old as time. “Everwood Press and WildImprints are competitors. If Everwood wins, WildImprints loses. If Everwood falls, WildImprints rises. If you buy WildImprints stock when it’s losing, but then destroy Everwood so that it loses its value, the WildImprints you own will soar, and you will get rich. This guy used the Lambert Group’s power to make that happen.”
Sandor nods quietly and keeps silent. He looks at me, wondering, perhaps, why I haven’t jumped at him yet and tried to stab him with the paper cutter.
“You can do all the competition crushing you want,” Theo says, with a glint in his eyes like cold steel. “With your own money. Not with my millions.”
“Just tell me one thing, Sandor,” I ask: “how did you pay Marcus? Did he get at least one million from it? Or maybe you gave him some bloody stock?”
Sandor ignores me. He looks at Theo in the eye, and speaks coldly. “You can’t save the company anyway. It’s too late. Deal’s done,” he sneers.
“Oh, yes. A done deal. There’s nothing I like more than a done deal,” Theo says, echoing the words he told me a century ago, when we were all still wearing our masks. He points at the computer screen. “This is your deal, I understand.” Without ever looking away from Sandor’s eyes, he picks up the phone and says just one word: “Now.”
Something happens in the screen. All the rows flicker at the same time, and when it’s over, all the names have changed. I have to do a double take as I identify the new owner of all the stock. It’s no longer Sandor Vandell. Now all the rows showed a different name.
Of course.
Theodore Lambert.
Sandor’s face has become a pale mask. Then it reddens progressively, as the enormity of what had just happened sinks in. “I– I’d never sell those,” he stutters. “This is a lie. This...”
“This is reality,” Theo snaps. “Do you know who’s on the other side?” He lifts the phone from the desk and offers it to Sandor.
<
br /> Vandell’s hand is shaking slightly when he grabs the phone. He lifts it up to his ear very slowly, as if fearing that the device is going to explode.
“Hello?” he says.
Theo has turned on the speaker. A voice comes from it.
“Hello, Sandor.”
Sandor’s face grows pale again, in an instant. He looks as if he’s about to faint. Maybe he is.
“Ned,” he says quietly.
An audible click can be heard, as the other person hangs up the phone. There’s no need to say anything else.
“I’ve known what you did for some time,” Theo explains. “I reached out to Ned, your dear friend, a couple of weeks ago. I know he had instructions not to sell your shares, but I can be very persuasive. He works for me now,” he said. “Oh, and you don’t, by the way. In fact, Ned is my new head of acquisitions. You’re dismissed.”
This is the way of the shark.
Sandor gets up and leaves without a word.
21. EATING GHOSTS
“Well, I have to give it to you: that was impressive. But it won’t save my father’s company,” I say at last. “He put it in death row when he realized he couldn’t stop the takeover. Everwood Press is no longer viable.”
“I know,” Theo says. “But Sandor was right in one thing. Everything can be fixed. Your dad can start anew. I will let him make an offer for this company.”
“What company? WildImprints? He will never match the price,” I protest. Is he mocking me? Dad’s competitor was already an important company, and now it’s stronger than ever, while Everwood is sinking fast. There’s no way dad could buy its main competitor.
“He will, if the price is low enough,” Theo says. “Look, I will write it down here.”
He grabs his phone and types a number.
I Need A Bad Boy: A Collection of Bad Boy Romances Page 90
