Читать книгу Pregnant By The Billionaire - Karen Booth, Karen Booth - Страница 8

One

Sawyer Locke marched into his Manhattan office, phone pinned between his ear and shoulder. “That’s your answer? You don’t know how the story ended up in the paper?” He slammed the newspaper down on his desk. Grand Legacy Hotel Rebuild in Shambles. “You’re my PR company. Am I not paying you to be on top of this? The reporter didn’t come to you for a comment? Because she sure didn’t call me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Locke. It came out of nowhere.”

Nowhere. Sawyer suspected the likely origin of this story, and it didn’t sit well with him at all. It never did. He left his laptop bag on his desk and wandered to his office window atop the four-story building he’d renovated when he started his real estate development firm five years ago. No high-rise for him. Too much like his dad. Down below, the trees lining the street were turning a rich shade of red impossible to ignore. He’d been staring at the trees off and on for three days now—a near match for the hair of a woman he couldn’t seem to forget. He’d had his share of one-night stands, but Kendall...well, he was having a terrible time getting her out of his head.

The changing leaves also meant December would be here soon, and that meant there could be no more disruptions on the hotel renovations. A gala New Year’s Eve grand reopening cannot be late or rescheduled. “I need to know what you’re going to do about this. We have to fight back.”

“In your case, I think it’s best if we ignore it and let the story take its natural course.”

For nearly a year, Sawyer had kept his frustration under wraps. There was too much money on the line, too many people watching and waiting for him to fail. Right now neither being calm nor collected was on the table. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to ignore negative publicity.” Inaction was an unfamiliar notion for Sawyer. He never sat on his hands.

“Perhaps we need to make a change, Mr. Locke. Maybe we’re no longer the right firm for you.”

Dammit. Sawyer knew that tone, that tentative tremble in a person’s voice. That was the sound of someone who’d been threatened or bought off by his father. This had happened before. It would likely happen again. “Perfect, then. You’re fired.”

“Mr. Locke?”

“Our retainer takes us through March. Bill me the balance and we’ll be done.” He hung up, stopping short of telling his now former public relations director to say hi to his dad. “Lily,” Sawyer called as his brother’s admin walked by his office. “Is Noah in yet?”

She leaned into view, a generous grin on her face. She was always so upbeat. “He’s unpacking his things. Got stuck in traffic.”

“Has he seen the paper?”

“Not sure.”

“I need to speak to him. Now.” He cringed at the demand in his voice. It wasn’t Lily’s fault everything was falling apart. “Please.”

“Of course, Mr. Locke.”

He stalked back to his desk and scanned the newspaper again.

Sources say Sawyer and Noah Locke are millions over budget and chronically behind schedule.

“Sources? Oh, I’ll tell you the damn source,” he mumbled. “And none of this is true.”

Much of the Locke family is embarrassed by the hotel. Sawyer and Noah Locke are reportedly pursuing the futile project in direct opposition to their father’s wishes.

An exasperated laugh rushed past his lips. Everything Sawyer did was in direct opposition to his father. He couldn’t help it. They were as different as two people could be, and the more distance Sawyer tried to keep, the more his father interfered, precisely why James Locke was the most likely culprit when it came to this bad publicity. Their father had fought Sawyer and Noah every step of the way on the Grand Legacy project. Their dad wanted the hotel razed. It had been a black mark on the family name for too long. Enough was enough, he’d said. Sawyer disagreed, strongly. Luckily, the original hotel in his family’s hotel empire was his. And it was nobody’s call but his.

After countless arguments, the worst of which had come nearly two years ago on Christmas Day when Sawyer had made it crystal clear he was not going to back down, their father had gone silent on the subject of the Grand Legacy. He refused to speak with his son about it, and Sawyer wasn’t eager to resume the conversation. Still, his father’s quiet was never good. Sawyer couldn’t prove it, but he was certain his dad was behind every problem they’d encountered during renovation: subcontractors not showing up, custom orders disappearing from the site. The power and water going off—more than once. It was never-ending, tiresome and costing a ridiculous amount of money.

Noah strolled into Sawyer’s office, coffee cup in hand. “You rang?” Even in an expensive suit, his younger brother always looked the part of affable All-American guy, and today was no different. Tall and trim, big grin, annoyingly perfect hair. Sawyer had recently discovered a few stray grays mixed in with the dark brown that matched Noah’s. At thirty-two, he was too young for that, but the struggle with his dad and the hotel was making him old before his time.

Sawyer pushed the paper across his desk. “I hate to ruin your good mood, but you have to read this.”

Noah set down his cup and planted his hands on the desk, surveying the damage. “Are you kidding me?” He flipped to the back page. “These pictures are terrible. They’re completely misleading. Of course the lobby is a disaster. It’s the last phase of the project.”

“That’s what Dad does, isn’t it? He’s all about misleading. You know he’s behind this.” If only their dad wasn’t several years into his marriage to his fourth wife. He tended to get bored by now, and when he didn’t have “love” to distract him, he occupied himself by meddling. Sawyer would never wish for his dad to get divorced and find wife number five, but the thought had crossed his mind. “We can’t let people think the hotel is a hot mess. The problem is we no longer have a PR firm. I just fired them. I’m pretty sure Dad got to them.”

Noah took a seat and ran his hand through his hair. “We need publicity, Sawyer. There’s no interest surrounding the reopening without it. Who’s going to coordinate the media for the opening gala? Are you going to do it? I’m not going to do it.”

“I hear you.”

“We need to get on it today. If Dad is behind this, he’s only going to escalate the closer we get to reopening.”

Sawyer sat back in his chair, nodding. Their father wasn’t going to let this go. He would never get over the fact that Sawyer’s great-grandfather had willed the hotel to him, bypassing their dad and the family’s holding company. James Locke’s anger over Sawyer’s control of the building went beyond what was reasonable. So much so that Sawyer was sure there was something else behind it. He’d spent much of the last fifteen years trying to figure it out, but he’d never come close to unearthing the secret. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to let him stop us.”

“I’d pick a PR firm myself, but you’d never let me make the call anyway.”

Sawyer shrugged. “It is my hotel.”

“Believe me. I know. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have this problem in the first place.” Noah rose from his seat and knocked his knuckle on Sawyer’s desk. “Do you have somebody in mind?”

Only one firm was a real possibility. “Sloan PR. They were a very close second when we started this. I made the wrong call, apparently.”

“I trust you.”

Noah left and Sawyer wasted no time opening his laptop and pulling up the Sloan PR website. It’d been over a year since he’d met with them and he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of the company president. Too many bits of information rolling around in his head these days...most of it not good. The site loaded and he clicked on “Our Team.”

At the top of the page was a group photo of five or six people. He didn’t see faces. He was too distracted by a shock of red hair. He leaned closer to the screen, squinting. Had the leaves on the trees led him to a mirage? Is that...Kendall? It looked like her. It really did. He scrolled down to individual photos of the team members.

There she was. Kendall Ross, Senior Director, Public Relations.

He sat back in his chair and let his eyes rest on her full ruby lips, creamy skin with hints of peach and gold, the bright blue eyes that had given him a verifiable moment of weakness on the dance floor at his friend Matt’s wedding six weeks ago. She was just as stunning as he remembered. He hadn’t let the memory of her improve as the nights since then had passed and he’d been craving a woman’s company. Now he was really kicking himself for not calling her after he’d returned to the city. Perhaps he should’ve broken his rule about getting involved. Just once.

There was one unavoidable detail about the weeks since the wedding, and it was one with which he was unfamiliar. She hadn’t called him either. Had she not enjoyed herself? He couldn’t fathom how that could be possible. They’d spent hours pleasing each other in practically every way a man and woman could. She’d said she’d had a wonderful time. She’d even kissed him goodbye in the morning—a slow, soft and passionate kiss that lingered on his lips for hours afterward. If he closed his eyes, it was still there in his mind.

He took in a deep breath and picked up his phone to call Kendall’s boss. He had to forge ahead with the task at hand. Hopefully his past with Kendall Ross wasn’t about to make his visit to Sloan PR unbearably awkward.

* * *

Kendall Ross’s shoulders drooped when she scanned that morning’s headlines. “Of course Sawyer Locke is in the paper. The man is everywhere.” She put her phone on her dresser and scrolled, reading while she zipped up her dress. One more flick of the screen and she saw the picture—Sawyer crossing the street in front of his Grand Legacy Hotel, sunglasses on, in an expensive suit, looking like he was the King of Manhattan. How could one man wield that much sexiness? It wasn’t fair.

She plopped down on the bed and worked her feet into her pumps, which had been cast aside last night after she dragged her exhausted self home from work. She shouldn’t let a photograph get to her, just like she should’ve ignored every random reminder of Sawyer that had cropped up over the last six weeks. There was the guy who rode the same morning train she did, a man she’d hardly noticed before Sawyer. Now she knew they wore the same cologne. There was the locksmith who’d worked in her office building a few weeks ago—his van parked out front. Locke and Key. Clever. Then there was the construction project that had just started down the street from her apartment. The vinyl banner for Locke and Locke went up right after the chain link fence. She walked past it every day on her way to the subway. And back.

She caught the time on her alarm clock. Five more minutes and she’d miss her train. She had to stop thinking about Sawyer, but keeping her mind off her huge mistake was not going well.

Thanks to the romantic comedy she’d watched on TV last night, she might have a fix.

She opened her closet and pulled a dusty shoe box down from the top shelf, plunked it on top of her dresser and lifted the lid. Under a stack of old photos of her mom, she found the black velvet box. Most women might keep their mother’s jewelry in a place of higher importance, but Kendall had very mixed feelings about this ring.

She opened the clamshell box and there it sat—a square setting of platinum with large diamonds surrounding a blue amethyst. Kendall would never forget her mother’s initial excitement at receiving it from one of her suitors, and her disappointment when she realized the lavish ring was only a gift, an expensive means of keeping her content. It had not come with a proposal.

When Kendall was a little girl, every new boyfriend her mother brought home was a new chance at having a dad. By the time she was a teenager, she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Her mom had a real talent for finding men with money and power, men who wined and dined her, took her to bed, never bothering to marry her. It meant that the rent was always on time and the fridge was stocked, but they otherwise treated her mother as a pretty bauble.

Since Kendall had devoted so much energy over the years to not repeating her mom’s mistakes, it made the one-night stand with Sawyer Locke that much harder to forget. Kendall made a point of being strong when it came to men. She could dismiss them with aplomb when needed.

Sawyer, however, had been the one guy for whom she had no defense. She’d let him sweet-talk her, even when she was sure it was all a line. He’d told her she was beautiful and sexy and she’d lapped up every word like she’d never had a decent compliment. And then there was their ultimate destination that night—bed. A one-night stand was not her style, but it had felt like an inevitability only a few moments into their first dance. He was commanding and powerful and even though Kendall had always sworn she’d never fall for that, she’d practically jumped at the chance with Sawyer.

The champagne hadn’t helped. The first glass gave way to flirtatious glances. The second brought an answer of “yes” when he asked her to dance. It had also made her pretend that she didn’t know he was from a wealthy and powerful New York family. In fact, she’d ignored all the damning knowledge she had of him—the playboy reputation, the money—even though men like Sawyer Locke had broken her mother’s heart more times than she could remember.

In the weeks since the wedding, Sawyer had proven her every assumption about him to be true. He might have asked for her number and said he would call her, but he hadn’t. Oldest trick in the book, a real blow to the ego, and probably for the best. Sawyer had been a mistake.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the clock. No time to waste, she slipped the ring onto her left hand. “Men of Manhattan, back off. I’m engaged.”

Kendall made record time down her block and around the corner to the subway stop. Thundering down the stairs, she swiped her pass and clunked through the turnstile, narrowly making her train. She sat next to a gray-haired woman who was clutching her purse to her chest. Shielding her hand with her laptop bag, Kendall eyed the ring and reminded herself what she wanted it to symbolize. She didn’t need anyone. She made her own future, no man required.

The heroine in the movie with the ring had been just like her—single, making stupid mistakes with men. Creating the illusion of being a taken woman served two purposes—it would be an ever-present reminder to stay on track with her career, the one thing she could truly count on, and it kept men away. That last part was a very good thing for Kendall. Men only ever approached her because she was, as her grandmother often pointed out, buxom and curvy. Sawyer Locke had undoubtedly only approached her for those reasons. It wasn’t like he’d had asked her to dance because she looked smart or like she might have a sparkling personality.

She probably never should’ve gone to her old college roommate’s wedding in the first place. That entire dream weekend in Maine was a magnifying glass on Kendall’s singleness. It normally didn’t bother her, but it was different being crammed into a banquet hall with her old friends, all married or in a serious relationship. Many had kids. One was already on her second husband. They had all moved forward with their lives. Kendall had, too, in her own way—building the one thing her mom had never managed to put together—a career. She needed to get back on track. Worrying about men was going to keep her running in circles.

The train arrived at her station, and she hurried along to the office of Sloan Public Relations. She’d been with the firm for nearly two years now, and was making strides. Her boss, Jillian Sloan, had said as much.

When she walked through the door, the normally bustling office was eerily quiet. Her coworkers spoke in hushed tones, ducking behind cubicles. Maureen, the receptionist, looked as though she’d seen a ghost.

“Did somebody die?” It wasn’t an outlandish question. Several people had looked a little green around the gills after Jillian had lunch brought in yesterday. Never trust potato salad, or any questionable picnic foods—that was one of the many rules Kendall lived by.

“Wanda was fired.”

Kendall clasped her hand over her mouth. Wanda was supposed to get the VP job. “Fired? Why? When did this happen?”

“About ten minutes ago.” Maureen leaned closer and dropped her chin while casting her eyes up at Kendall. “Supposedly she had something going on with one of her clients. You know how Jillian is.”

Oh, Kendall knew. Jillian was all about appearances. Sloan PR was a tight ship.

“If you’d been on time, you would’ve been here for it,” Maureen continued. “Wanda’s packing up her office right now. Oh, and Jillian wants to see you right away.”

“Right away?” Kendall grimaced. Had she done something?

“Yes. Go.”

Racing down the hall from reception, dodging a few of her coworkers, she dropped her things onto her desk. She took a deep breath, straightened her skirt and headed back to the executive wing of their floor—two corner offices with a large, central waiting area and private conference room between. Jillian’s was the larger of the two offices, but they were both impressive. The second, the one that everyone had thought would become Wanda’s, was empty. The door had been left open for the three months since the last VP left to start her own company, a constant reminder to everyone that the job was up for grabs, if you dazzled Jillian. Wanda’s office was closed, but a long string of profanity came from behind the door. Apparently someone was not happy about having been fired, but anyone could’ve told her Jillian wouldn’t put up with anything fishy with a client.

Jillian’s assistant hung up her phone. “Oh good, Ms. Ross. Ms. Sloan is waiting for you. Go right in.”

Kendall filed into her boss’s office and stood waiting while Jillian tapped away at her computer. “Morning, Kendall. I’m sure you’ve heard. I had to let Wanda go.” She turned to Kendall, her glossy chestnut-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, probably so everyone could admire the chunky diamond studs in her ears. Jillian had worked her way up in the world and she wasn’t afraid to remind people of it. “It was an unfortunate situation, but it’s time for us all to move on.”

Kendall wasn’t about to ask for details. She could dig the truth out of one of her coworkers later. “Yes, of course.”

“This could be a big opportunity for you. There’s no question you’re a rising star. You work hard, you have innovative ideas and you’re keenly focused on our clients. You could stand to be on time more often, but we won’t get into that right now.”

Kendall cleared her throat and shifted her weight. “Thank you.”

“Now that we’ve lost Wanda, you’re next in line for the VP position.”

Kendall stopped herself from blurting I am? “That’s great news. Thank you.”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m also considering Wes. He’s right behind you in the pecking order.”

The bottom of Kendall’s stomach dropped out. Ugh. Wes was her most annoying colleague, as enjoyable as a bowl of soggy cereal. He’d raised sucking up to the boss to an art form, and took so much joy in interfering with Kendall at work that she half expected him to show up one day with a villain’s handlebar mustache just so he could twirl the ends. “I see.”

“Show me that you’re right for this job. You can start right now. I have a very important potential client waiting in the conference room. I can’t tell you what the project is, though. I had to sign a nondisclosure agreement just to take the meeting. We can’t say a thing, even if he doesn’t hire us.”

Nondisclosure? Must be a big fish. “Sure. Great. What can I do?”

“Win the account. I’ll be there, but you’ll do the heavy lifting. He doesn’t want a dog and pony show. He wants to speak directly to whomever would be handling his project. He wants ideas. He wants brilliance.”

“What about Wes?”

“You get our only shot.” Jillian stepped out from behind her desk, clasping Kendall’s shoulder. “You’ve earned it. Now don’t let me down.”

Kendall tried to swallow, but her throat wouldn’t cooperate. Nothing like walking into a pressure cooker first thing Monday morning. “I’m ready.” Just to sell it, she gave Jillian two thumbs-up.

Jillian pointed to her left hand. “Are you engaged? I don’t remember that ring.”

Kendall hadn’t fully formulated her story, but she sure as heck wasn’t going to tell her boss she’d gotten the idea from a TV movie. “It was my mother’s. I found it and thought I’d wear it.”

“On your left ring finger?”

“Do you ever get hit on by men who you’d prefer just left you alone?”

“All the time,” Jillian answered. “It can get really annoying.”

“Precisely. If a man takes the time to really know me, I can tell him it’s just a fashion choice. Until then, it’s a great way to keep them at bay and focus on my job.”

A sly smile crossed Jillian’s face. “I like the way you think.”

Kendall followed Jillian into the conference room, her mind a jumble...her aspirations, her career goals, being on her A game, trying to win an account she knew nothing about. She fiddled with the ring on her finger. You’ve got this.

The minute she crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her, Kendall’s stomach, already unsettled like she’d chugged a bubbly soda, did a verifiable somersault. There at the end of the conference table, in a charcoal-gray suit that made her want to bite her knuckle, sat quite possibly the most handsome man she’d ever seen—precisely the man she’d been hoping to forget by putting on her mother’s ring that morning. Sawyer Locke.