One Night Standards(32)

“I figured you’d be up for it,” Mrs. Marion said, “since you decided to try selling Diva Nation to me, Sophie.”

Sophie’s mother stared at her, as did Mark.

“So now, instead of Marion & Co. buying it, it’d be Trimera. Best of both possible worlds. What do you say?”

“It couldn’t be more perfect,” Sophie said softly to her mother. “What do you think?”

Her mother was silent for a long moment. Then she stood up.

“I think,” she said coldly, “that you can all go to hell.”

Sophie’s eyebrows jumped up. “Mom?”

“Do you think I’m selling my company to the same jerks that fired me?” She grabbed up her purse, anger making her clumsy and catching the strap on the back of her chair. “Do you actually think I could trust you? Given the first opportunity, you’ll drive Diva Nation right into the ground. No, thank you. I am not going to make this deal.”

Mrs. Marion was frowning, as were Roger and Simone. Mark looked stunned.

“Excuse me,” Sophie said. “I’ll go talk to her.” She followed her mother, almost running to catch up with her. “Mom, what are you doing?”

“The nerve!” her mother fumed. “The absolute gall!”

“But Mom, it solves everything,” Sophie said, grabbing her mother’s shoulder and forcing her to stop walking. “You’ll be in the clear. You won’t have to worry about money anymore. You’ll keep the house—”

“I don’t want to keep it that way,” her mother said stubbornly.

Sophie felt like shaking her. “Damn it, I’m trying to help you here,” she said. “I’ve done everything I can. Mark’s gone above and beyond to help you. So why are you acting this way?”

Her mom’s face was pensive. “I want to make sure I don’t lose everything again,” she said. “If only I could figure out some way to trust them, Sophie. You’ve been naive before. You think that this is perfect, and it looks it. The things that look perfect are the things that always wreck you in the end.”

“So what do you want, Mom?” Sophie exploded, frustrated. “What would it take for you to trust them?”

Her mother sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Come back to the table,” Sophie said.

Slowly, her mother went back with her. Roger and Simone were talking to Mark, away from the table. Mrs. Marion was muttering something to Lily, who was taking down notes on her PDA. Mrs. Marion looked up.

“Is everything all right?” she asked mildly, but her expression was fierce.

Sophie’s mom glanced at the Trimera contingent. “If this is going to go through,” she said, “I’d want some assurances from you.”

Mrs. Marion frowned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“No, this would be a deal breaker,” she responded.

Mrs. Marion stood. “Come walk with me,” she said.

Sophie watched as her mother walked away with Mrs. Marion—something that Mark and his team also seemed to find disturbing. Mark sat next to Sophie. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said. “But I think she’s going to take the deal.”

“She’d better,” Mark said. “It’s the only thing I could think of—and my neck’s on the line now.”

“We’re all on the line,” Sophie countered, and he nodded, breathing roughly.

“You can tell your mom when I’m in charge of the account, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get run into the ground,” he said solemnly.

Sophie glanced over to where her mother was talking to Mrs. Marion in a low voice. “I’ll try,” she said.

But even as she promised, she now had the sinking feeling that, despite the solution, her mother wasn’t going to take the easy way out.





11




“FOR GOD’S SAKE, MARK,” Simone said with disgust, “after the conversation we had, I thought you were smarter than this.”

Mrs. Marion had taken over, not surprisingly—and now he wasn’t quite sure where the deal to purchase Diva Nation stood. Mark wasn’t quite sure how he’d lost control of the situation.

He closed his eyes. No, he did know. He’d lost control when Sophie had entered the picture. And frankly, all hell had broken loose when her mother had decided to throw a wrench in the works.

“It should’ve been a straightforward deal,” Mark muttered, taking a drink of his scotch and soda. “They should’ve jumped at it.”

“You had the account. We didn’t need them, damn it.” Simone had a vodka martini in front of her. It was her second. Roger was off in a corner, muttering darkly on his cell phone. “You had the road to a big promotion in your grasp, and you decided to trash the whole damned thing. What were you thinking?”

“Hey,” Mark said defensively, “buying Diva Nation is a great step for Trimera. Roger thought so. So did his boss. If they didn’t, we wouldn’t have moved so fast on the offer.”

Simone rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Mark, I know you have feelings for her, but I thought you had your head on straight. Now I can see that you’re definitely making bad decisions because of that woman. And Roger—he’s beyond angry.”

“It’s my account,” Mark argued, feeling despondent. “He’s pissed now, but give me a year. Once I show what I can do…”

“It won’t matter,” Simone informed him. “You jeopardized the team. It looks like you were showboating and you’re trying to go over Roger’s head. You can’t possibly be that naive, to think that Roger’s just interested in your performance. He’s covering his own butt.”

Mark winced. Yes, of course, he should know better. He hadn’t meant to burn bridges. He’d hoped that Roger would see that this was a big step for everyone.

Apparently he’d gauged that one wrong, as well.

“You’re lucky we still have the account, actually…and that Mrs. Marion likes you,” Simone said. “Otherwise, I think that Roger would have you fired by the end of the day.”

The statement sent a chill of dread over Mark. He gritted his teeth. “Well, we do still have the account, and all of this is going to work out,” he finished grimly.

Simone did not look convinced.

Roger stalked back to the table. “They’re going nuts over at corporate,” he said, glaring at Mark. “You and your bright ideas. Why’d you get Mrs. Marion involved in the first place? That woman’s worse than a camel trader. Whatever she’s ‘negotiating’ with Diva Nation, you know Trimera’s going to get taken worse than it already is. We gave her everything but the kitchen sink to get her to choose us over them. And now we’ll probably have to spend millions on a company that will be a pain in the ass.”

“I knew that if we approached Diva Nation separately, they might not listen,” Mark replied, even though he also felt that involving Mrs. Marion might’ve been a mistake. “I knew that they saw the account as the one thing that would save them. I figured bringing her in would guarantee the sale.”

“And look how well that turned out,” Roger said sarcastically. “I’m sorry we went after the damned account in the first place!”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” a woman’s voice intoned.

Mark turned to see Mrs. Marion standing by their table. He winced. Roger at least looked embarrassed. Simone didn’t change expression; she simply downed the rest of her martini and motioned to the waiter for a refill. Meanwhile, Sophie and her mother seemed to have left the restaurant.

Mark stared at Mrs. Marion, whose face was solemn—and he got the feeling that, whatever she was about to announce, it wasn’t good.

“You can cheer up,” she said. “The deal is going through. Mrs. Jones and your CEO just settled on a price, and lawyers will be drawing up paperwork in the next few weeks.”

Mark felt his body relax, a smile crossing his face. “You’re a miracle worker,” he said. He knew that Roger would still be angry, and Simone disappointed, but at least he’d gotten what he set out for. Sophie must feel even more relieved. He couldn’t wait to hear what Sophie had to say.

“But there were some additional provisions,” she said. “Mrs. Jones was quite adamant about that.”

Mark blanched. He should have known. Still, it was better than nothing. “What sort of provisions?”

She shook her head. “The thing she was most afraid of was that Trimera’s marketing department would try and alter the course of her company—change her products, change their packaging, what have you. She doesn’t trust the management.”

“Well, we did fire her,” Mark said. “I’ll do what I can to reassure her. I’m sure I can put something in writing, incorporate it in the sale paperwork…”

“You don’t understand,” Mrs. Marion said. “The only way she’d sell was to ensure that they’d stay true to their original vision. She’s insisting on choosing her own account manager.”

Mark felt his blood run cold. “But I’m the account manager.”