Pursued(15)

But he hadn't given up. Instead, he'd waited seven weeks for her to  respond to him and she never had. Not one returned text, not one phone  call, nothing but total and complete radio silence. Which was why he'd  finally given up on her, why he'd gone so far as to erase her number  from his phone. He liked her a lot, but if she didn't feel the same way  about him, he wasn't going to spend the next year moping around about  the one who'd gotten away. Not when they'd spent less than twelve hours  together total.

He'd thought if he shoved Desi out of his mind-and took her off his phone-he wouldn't have to think about her again.

Too bad it hadn't worked.

Determined to get her out of his mind once and for all, he grabbed his  laptop. Started fiddling with the winter marketing plans. He'd had a  great idea about them when he'd been wandering his empty house at three  that morning. He should probably write it down before it disappeared.

But he'd only just opened the advertising budget spreadsheet when the  intercom on his desk buzzed with his brother's voice. The sound cut  through Nic's not-so-pleasant thoughts, giving him the distraction he'd  been looking for. "Come to my office, will you? I want to talk to you  about something."

"Be right there," Nic answered, glad beyond measure that he finally had  something to do. Sure, he had his normal workload, but none of that  interested him right now. Nothing did, except putting this story to rest  once and for all.

Grabbing his phone and his cup of coffee off his desk, he made his way  to Marc's office. As Nic walked down the long corridor that separated  their corner offices, people called out hellos from every door that he  passed.

He returned the greetings as naturally as he could, but he could tell  his staff knew something was wrong. There were a bunch of questioning  looks, and even their greetings were more subdued than normal. Not that  he blamed them. He hadn't exactly been his normal exuberant self lately,  either. It was pretty hard to act as if everything was all right when  he and his brother might very well be captaining a sinking ship. They'd  already been hit by the iceberg. Now they just had to wait to see if  they'd somehow manage to stay afloat.

"What's up?" he asked as he let himself into Marc's office.

"I want to talk about the December ad campaign. I want to hit it harder, want to make sure we're everywhere we need to be."

"We will be, I promise."

"Still, I want to put more money toward the campaign. Another fifty million or so-"

"We don't need another fifty million-"

"You don't know that. You don't know what we'll need if-"

"I do know. And that's why we're retooling part of the campaign. There  will still be the ads that focus on giving her diamonds, etc. But we'll  also have ads about making the world a better place, bringing holiday  cheer to those who have none-it'll have Bijoux's name on it, but there  will be no mention of buying anything, no mention of gifts. Instead  we'll focus on children in developing nations, with a particular  emphasis on conflict diamonds and those who are forced to mine them."                       
       
           



       

"That's really smart, actually. I'm impressed."

"Don't sound so surprised. I do, occasionally, know what I'm doing, you know."

Marc snorted. "Well, let's not get all crazy now."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm the crazy one in the room."

"Excuse me? I will have you know that I am exceptionally sane."

"Yeah, that's what they all say, bro, right before they chop off an ear. Or some other more important body part."

"I assure you," Marc told him, completely deadpan, "I have no intention of chopping off my ear or anyone else's."

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it. Insanity might look good on you."

"But it already looks so good on you."

"I think you're confused. This isn't insanity, man. This is confidence."

Marc studied him for a second before shaking his head. "Nah. It's insanity."

Nic couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. It felt good to share a  little banter with his brother, especially when things had been so tense  lately. As he sank into a chair on the visitor's side of his brother's  desk, he told himself it was a sign that things were looking up.

Harrison, one of the attorneys working their end of the situation and  one of his closest friends at the company, walked in a couple of minutes  later. He'd barely sat down before the door opened again and this time  it was Isa who walked in, carrying a thick manila folder in her hand.

She grinned at all of them before perching on the corner of Marc's desk and sliding the folder across the dark cherrywood.

Mark looked at her inquisitively, at least until he opened it and saw  what was written there. Then he broke out in a huge smile as he asked,  "We got it?"

"You absolutely got it," Isa told him. "I didn't find one irregularity."

Adrenaline raced through Nic at the confirmation and he jumped out of  his chair, pumped a fist in the air. "I knew it, baby!" he all but  shouted. "I knew that reporter had a bad source." He gave Marc a second  to look over the documentation she'd provided, then ripped the folder  out of his hands and headed for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" his brother called after him.

"To make a copy of this file. And then I'm going to go down to the Los  Angeles Times myself and force-feed every single page of this to that  jackal of a reporter. I hope she chokes on it."

"I feel obliged to warn you of the illegality of such actions." Harrison somehow managed to keep a straight face as he said it.

Nic flipped him off on his way out of the office. And though he wanted  to celebrate with Marc and Isa and everyone else who had helped clear  Bijoux of any wrongdoing, his job wasn't done yet. He needed to make  sure the Los Angeles Times-and one particular reporter-got this  information. And while he could, and would, have it emailed over, there  was no way he was leaving this to the whims of someone's email habits.  He was hand delivering this baby himself.

Besides, he really wanted to see D. E. Maddox's face when he plopped the report on her desk.

Since it was midmorning, the drive from their offices in north Carlsbad  to the headquarters of the Los Angeles Times was less than an hour and a  half. On the way, he plotted what he would say to Maddox and her  managing editor. About a million expletives came to mind, but since he  was a gentleman and not in the habit of cursing at women-even women who  had nearly destroyed his family's business-he worked out a little speech  instead. Short, pithy, to the point and-yes, he admitted it-more than a  little smug. He might be a gentleman, but that didn't mean he shouldn't  gloat a little. Especially about something like this.

He pulled into the parking lot exactly one hour and fourteen minutes  after he left his office in Carlsbad-okay, maybe he'd sped a little, but  he'd be lying if he said he wasn't anxious to get this whole thing over  with and behind him. Behind Bijoux.

He figured he'd have to talk his way around a few security guards,  maybe a receptionist or two, before he'd be able to get to either Maddox  or Bloomburg. But it turned out that the huge compound that had once  belonged exclusively to the Los Angeles Times now housed some kind of  call center and a few other businesses that had nothing to do with the  news. Which meant Nic waltzed right through the central lobby, where he  checked the building's directory and got onto an elevator that took him  straight to the newspaper's main floor.

He stepped off the elevator into a huge newsroom packed with desks. It  was almost empty, which wasn't a surprise considering he'd arrived in  the middle of the lunch hour. Except for a couple of stragglers, the few  people who were there were huddled around a table at the front of the  room, talking animatedly-probably about how to ruin the reputations of  other businesses in the area. Which, okay, might be an unfair  assessment, but he wasn't exactly feeling kindly toward the paper at the  moment, or anyone who worked there.                       
       
           



       

There was still no receptionist to check in with, nobody to even give  his name to. And while he knew security at Bijoux was over the top  because of the nature of their business-and because they housed diamonds  in their state-of-the-art vault-he admitted to being a little shocked  at just how laissez-faire this place was about security.

Still, it worked in his favor, so he wasn't complaining. The paper had  certainly had the element of surprise when it had contacted him less  than a week ago. Now he was returning the favor. Neither Maddox nor  Bloomburg would ever expect him to show up here. He'd find Maddox's desk  and be waiting for her when she got back from lunch.