You’ve got this. He’s got nothing on you. He never had. Although that wasn’t quite true. She knew her mother had been behind the espionage that lost Joe his take-over opportunity. And if Joe found out, it was her mother’s business that would be in jeopardy. A business that had been the only thing that had kept her mom together when Cara’s older brother died. A business that had seen her inspire countless girls to go into science, and that had saved more lives than Joe Diaz had had hot dinners. Cara jutted out her jaw. Her new boss could try and intimidate her, but she was not going to let him.
The office looked different without Mr Tsiolkas’ ancient furniture. The overstuffed orange sofa in the waiting room had been replaced by a series of sleek white leather pod-stools and the art on the walls had gone from watercolor sailing ships to stylized modern prints of gloomy women’s faces in black and white. Even Joe’s PA was shiny and dressed in black. Oh god, who am I kidding, I’m toast. “Ms Reynolds? Mr Diaz will see you now.” Clipped and perfunctory, Little Miss Slick’s voice was as minimalist as everything else about Joe Diaz.
“Ms Reynolds. So it really is you.” The voice was just as it had been when she hid under the dining table in the restaurant. Smokey. Sultry. Dark. Calm down girl. The man is your boss, a cold-hearted bastard and your mother’s nemesis. Didn’t mean her body didn’t want to shed its paltry protection of clothing and rub itself all over him though.
He looked the same, mostly. He wore glasses now, thick rimmed, on-trend frames that only made his dark eyes seem more piercing by framing them so dramatically. The suit was the same though, dark gray, impeccably cut, and the face, man the face was one she’d traced the outline of so many times in her dreams her fingers knew its every crevice.
“Mr Diaz. You’ve made some changes to the office already. Very sleek.” This is the guy who wanted to destroy you. Who would have if you’d stayed in town any longer. The Building Super back in New York told her an investigator had come looking for her at her apartment a couple of weeks after Joe had accused her of espionage, and with everything going wrong at Brooks, Cara knew it was time to go. A month later she’d moved to Austin and started over.
“There might be more changes soon. I’m hoping it won’t be necessary, but Mr Tsiolkas wasn’t exactly one for running a tight ship. I hope you’re ready to prove just how much of an asset you are to this company.”
Cara’s skin bristled and she felt her face grow hot. “It’s one thing coming in here and redecorating to make yourself feel like the big man, it’s quite another talking smack about a man you know nothing about.”
A smirk pulled at the edge of Joe’s mouth and his pupils darkened further. “My, aren’t you over-protective. Was there something going on between the two of you that was more than professional?”
Cara couldn’t help it. She snorted and finally relaxed. “For a minute there I thought you might actually have something to say. But you’ve just proved you’re all hot air. Me and Geronimo Tsiolkas? That’s perfect.” The guy was almost seventy, with ten kids, a horde of grandkids and his first great-grandchild due any minute. “Me and Mr Tsiolkas, ohmigawd.” She let the laugh out and felt the tension of the past night ooze out of her.
“If you say so.”
“Oh I say so, believe me.”
“Well then,” he snapped into professional mode and spun on his heel to pick up a folder from his desk. “I understand you head up the PR team for one of my brands now?”
“That’s right.”
“Bit of a step up?”
“It was a small company when I started. Mr Tsiolkas trusted me and we grew the brand together. It’s provided our biggest growth.” Cara straightened to her full five foot ten height. “I hope you’re the kind of employer that gives credit where credit is due. This company has been a meritocracy up until now.”
“And that won’t change. As long as people are doing what they’re supposed to be doing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shut up. You’re supposed to be saving your job remember. “I mean, is there something that’s unclear about my team’s performance mandate? We had a strategy meeting a few months ago. You should be able to see that we’re on target with all of our performance matrix indicators.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Good. Your team do their job and make sure King Kondoms becomes a household name and I’ll have nothing to talk to them about.”
Cara relaxed her shoulders a little. “What about me?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Is that a threat?”
He shrugged. “I would never threaten my employees. I prefer to let them dig their own holes.”
Oh. Shit. “I’m not one for digging. I’m much better at just getting on with my job. So if that’s all?”
“Oh no. Performance matrix indicators are all very well, but I like to see things for myself. You’ll need to walk me through your strategies for this Valentine’s promotion. And any decisions you make from here need to pass over my desk.”
Cara’s heart sank. She had to spend more time with the guy? “Where do you want to start?”
“Downstairs, shop floor.” He picked up the folder again and read from it. “You have a Cupid’s Grove? What even is that? If it’s some kind of kissing booth I think we have very different ideas on what constitutes a quality promotion.”
Kissing booth. Cara looked away from his lips sharply. She would not think about them on her hand, on her lips, on her throat. Stop. It. Being firm with her body wasn’t helping, a surge of blood shot downward, heightening every nerve ending. She cleared her throat. “It’s not a kissing booth. Quite the opposite.”
“So. Show me.”
“Now?”
“Why not? Surely it’s your top priority?”
“It is, which is why I should be getting back to ensuring everything is on track.”
“Best get on with it then.” He held out an arm, indicating she should go first and as he did she caught the strains of his scent. That was where she got the cigar impression from then. Not that he was a smoker, more that he was smoky. A dusky, earthly woodland smell, like drinking rich dark chocolate by a campfire in summer. She licked her lips involuntarily and he caught her at it. Locking eyes she saw the spark in them that had always been there when they were together. It was at the very middle of his pupils, deep in the dark black centers. The spark that had disappeared the night she’d left.
Her whole body ached for him to lower his arm around her. To wrap her up and tell her he’d made a mistake, that they could start again where they left off.
“Ms Reynolds. Did you need to say something?”
He broke her fleeting fantasy and she shook her head to focus. This was fun for him, she realized. He was toying with her and he was enjoying it. “If you’d like to come with me.” She stalked out of his office, past Little Miss Slick to the lifts, then thought better of being confined in such a small space with him and turned towards the stairs.
Step after step she was aware of his large looming presence, and the click of his leather shoes on the tiled stairs drilled a type of metronome into her senses. Just behind you just behind you, went his steps, making her body ache with the desire to run towards him and run away all at once.
But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t allow herself to. She was the tall one in every aspect of her life, the woman who towered over every meeting, and who didn’t need to raise her voice to get attention. If she’d wanted to, she could have used her height like her mother used her power suits, but she tried not to, preferring to let her mind beguile people instead. Being around Joe she wasn’t a giant, and his presence held so much dominance she felt a little cowed. It should have made her quieter, but perhaps because of her mother’s position, it did the opposite and she wanted to shout at him, to make sure he didn’t have the chance to think she was intimidated by him. Come on girl, you’ve got this. Just keep it professional. Impress him with your project and then you can get back to work. But despite her lit
tle pep-talk, she had to grind her teeth to stop herself from turning and confronting him for seeking her out just to fire her. Because that’s what he was doing wasn’t it? Looking for a way to hurt her like he thought she’d hurt him? Well she wouldn’t let him.
On the bottom level she pushed open double doors into the shopping area that formed the ground floor of the Kings building.
It had been a cunning move by Mr Tsiolkas to integrate a tacit consumer testing ground as part of his operation. Made up like an old fashioned department store, the area housed two high-end fashion boutiques, a pharmacy of course, a make-up counter, a menswear store, a book and magazine shop and a gift area which was already bedecked in red and pink in preparation for Valentine’s Day. In the center of the space was a curtained off area with a sign spelling out Cupid’s Grove in cursive fonts and gold lettering. Cara walked up to it and put a hand on the curtain. “This is a new initiative this year. King Kondoms is a brand synonymous with reliability, responsibility, and love. Love for animals because of our PETA-approved cruelty free production process, and love for humans as we keep our consumers free from disease and unwanted pregnancies.”
His face stayed passive and she took it up a notch. “Because of that we wanted a promotion that was about love. Nothing as tawdry as the kissing booth you helpfully suggested,” she tried not to drip sarcasm into every word, “but more of an ode to lasting love. The type that builds lasting relationships, that holds family together, that shows the very best side of humanity.”
He snorted. “All that from a condom? This I have to see.”
She put a hand on his arm as he went to pull back the curtain and the contact shot something akin to two hundred volts up her forearm. Taking a step back she put the arm behind her back, trying not to let the shock register on her face. There were no feels to be felt about Joe Diaz. None. Nada. Whatever that had been was just the residual remainder of her earlier stress. If you say so. Avoiding looking at him, Cara pulled back the curtain and entered before him. “It’s not complete yet of course as we can’t house any of the animals till the day but you’ll be able to get the general idea.”
The small space felt smaller with Joe in there with her, but she refused to feel crowded and instead led him around the various sections her team had come up with. “Here we’ll have a petting zoo,” she said. Red ribbons were wrapped around animal pens and gold streamers hung from the ceiling. When she bent to flick a switch, hundreds of fairy lights lit up over head and the world seemed to her like something out of a fairytale. “This is where we house pairs of animals from rescue centers, ones that have their own stories of love.” She pointed at the cards with pictures of a pair of doves, a pair of dogs, and a pair of donkeys left for dead on a farm because one of them had lost part of its foot. “Jemima and Christopher are a big hit at children’s farm days apparently.”
“Farm days? What has this got to do with condoms? Jezus, you’re supposed to be impressing me. Please don’t tell me you’re handing out condoms to kids.”
“Of course not. There won’t be any condoms on display and the only samples are in the adult goody bags.”
“Hmmmm,” was all he said.
“This is about promoting a cruelty-free message: love above all remember. Reminding kids and adults alike that love is about more than what they see on TV. It’s about caring for one another properly, responsibly, and with compassion.” She pointed to the red beanbags with the King Kondom logo of a crown stamped subtly in gold. “People can sit and chat. Pet the animals, talk with their kids and loved ones. It’s a place to remember that humans are great at relationships, but that relationships take work, time and commitment.”
Joe’s face softened and Cara gave herself an invisible fist pump. She was going to win him over, she had to.
“Making them gooey enough to want to go home and have sex all night long. Okay, that works,” he said. “Go on.”
She tried not to sigh at his cynicism. “Over here we have a donations tree. People can adopt a pet by making donations to a shelter, or they can send messages to them. And you can also upload a message directly.” There were three camera phones, set to upload videos to the King Kondom Youtube channel as well as stacks of pink and white love hearts, again with the subtle King Kondom logo on them. Her staff had already hung a few love hearts, enough that the example was clear and Joe pulled one down. “Thank you for sharing your love. For showing us how easy it is to be better people,” he read. “Seems harmless enough. Is that it? That’s your big promotion? I’m not sure how you’re going to sell more product for me with it.”
“If you’ll come with me.” Ignoring him she walked through a partitioned off area into the adults zone. There were no sickly sweet red and pink decorations here. The walls were white, black and gold. Sleek, modern and opulent. “This isn’t about moving product. Sex sells but only sometimes, that’s the new catch phrase in this industry. Our competitors in the bulk market will be doing wall to wall advertising everywhere. We can’t compete with that. And we don’t want to. Like I said, this is about cementing Kings as a reliable, responsible brand that puts love first. Love for people, love for animals, love for the planet. But we also want to have fun. Our best bet after we’ve grabbed people’s attention is to tap into social media. And you can’t create a far reaching sustainable campaign that does that with sex. We want our displays to go viral so we’ve set up this area.
“Mr Tsiolkas is a family man, through and through, that’s why I laughed when you asked if we were together. Perhaps because of that he had an open door policy when it came to seeking advice. Whether you wanted to know if you should buy an apartment, or ask your girlfriend to marry you, he was always happy to listen. That’s what this is about.”
“Giving advice is your big reveal?”
“It’s less about giving advice and more about listening.” She put extra emphasis on the word listening, but he didn’t seem to pick up on it. “Consumers come in for a ten minute chat about a loved one, and Mr Tsiolkas will help them phrase a question or statement or request to share. He plays Cupid, as it were. They sit in here with our representative Cupid and work out what they want to say. We have a Cupid in each center, so we have maximum exposure across the country. Then the consumers go into the Truth Booth and upload their message for their loved one and the world to see.” She opened the door of a well-proportioned booth, a screen with camera set up pointed at a black velvet chair. Like the outer room, everything was decorated in black, white and gold. It was masculine, but subtly romantic, like an old fashioned hat box. Words were printed on the table below the screen. Positive affirmations, poems, romantic gestures, and there was a tablet with plenty of source material to scroll through. “We have a bunch of these booths in every Cupid Grove so people can spend a bit of time working out what they want to say while others are talking with our Cupid. And there’s an automatic filter which will cut any crude or explicit content before its uploaded and alert the facilitator. The videos then get uploaded via social media. Maximum exposure, maximum goodwill, minimal expenditure.”
Joe tipped his head to the side. “I guess it could work.”
She tried, she really did, but Cara couldn’t hold the sarcasm out of her voice. “I’m so very pleased.”
The smirk was unmistakable, but he wiped it off his face before she got a chance to comment on it. “Who are you going to get to fill in for Mr Tsiolkas?”
“He’s agreed to still do it. At least the Austin segment. We have guidelines for the others to follow: a range of counselors, priests, family pastors and community leaders vetted and ready to play Cupid in the other centers.”
“Other centers? Like Chicago?”
“Yes, Chicago is on the list. It’s a nation-wide campaign. I thought I already said that. Surely that’s clear in the budget allocations? Thirty five Cupid Grottos across the country. To match the thirty five million condoms we’ve donated to Africa which should be distributed the same day.”
He wa
s silent a long moment and she wondered for a moment if she’d missed something. But then he caught himself. “All going live on Valentine’s Day?”
“Yes.”
“It could work. As long as none of your Cupids has any skeletons in the closet that might come out and bite us on the rosy-cheeked ass.” He looked her in the eye as he said that. But she refused to let him faze her. It was odd though, he seemed more alert now, as if he was looking harder for holes in her plan.
“That’s why they’ve all been professionally vetted. They won’t appear in the videos anyway, but we want them giving legitimate advice. I’ve met them via skype with Mr Tsiolkas and they seem like a great mix of modern, practical men, with a lot of love to give.”
“So your reputation is on the line here right?”
“I guess it is. This company is a family Mr Diaz, it would be good for you to learn that early on. We work together, to help each other out and build each other up. But I’ve spearheaded King Kondoms brand placement and now it’s time to cement it into the consumer consciousness before one of our competitors tries to edge us out. So it is my reputation at stake I guess. Mine and that of my team.”
“Good. Putting your money where your mouth is, I like that.” He pulled out his phone and checked it. “I have a meeting now. But we’re not finished. You’ll need to set aside more time to talk me through the African campaign. I’ll see you tonight at 6pm.” With that he turned on his heel and walked out of the space.
Cara looked at the flapping curtain for a moment and wondered if it was going to all be okay. Maybe? Maybe sure, but then some people still insisted that pigs could fly.
Her phone rang and she sat on one of the beanbags to answer it.
“Cara, you need to get back here quick. Something’s wrong with Boris. I can hear him howling from down here and if someone hasn’t already called dog control I’ll be amazed.” It was her property manager.
Valentine's Vengeance Page 3
