Rule Number 4—Every woman starts the day with an agenda. A cause, an item to strike off her list, the inescapable conclusion of a campaign she’s been running. It could be a diamond ring, more of your time, your acknowledgment that you will indeed agree to meet her mother… Whatever it is, take it from me, just say yes or say goodbye. And know that saying goodbye might be a whole hell of a lot cheaper in the long run.
Bailey stopped reading for the sake of her blood pressure. Here she’d been worrying that the personality conflict she and Jared shared, which admittedly was intense, was the problem. The thing that had been holding her back. Their desire to rip each other apart every time they stepped foot in a boardroom together was legendary within the company, but that hadn’t been it. No—in actual fact, he disrespected the entire female race.
She’d never even had a chance.
Three years, she fumed, scowling at her computer screen as she pulled up a blank document. Three years she’d worked for that egocentric jerk, racking up domestic sales of his wildly popular cell phones and computers… For what? It had all been a complete waste of time in a career in which the clock was ticking. A CEO by thirty-five, she’d vowed. Although that vision seemed to be fading fast….
She pressed her lips together and started typing. To whom it may concern: I can no longer work in an organization with that pig at the helm. It goes against every guiding principle I’ve ever had. She kept going, wrote the letter without holding back, until her blood had cooled and her rage was spent. Then she did a second version she could hand in to HR.
She wasn’t working for Jared Stone. For that beautiful, arrogant piece of work. Not one minute longer. No matter how brilliant he was.
Jared Stone was in a whistling kind of mood as he parked in the Stone Industries lot, collected his briefcase and made his way through the sparkling glass doors. A five-mile run through the park, a long hot shower, a power shake and a relatively smooth commute could do that for a man.
He hummed a bad version of a song he’d just heard on the radio as he strode toward the bank of elevators that ran up the center of the elegant, architecturally brilliant building. When life was this good, when he was on top of his game, about to land the contract that would silence all his critics, cement his control of his company, he felt impermeable, impenetrable, unbeatable, as if he could leap tall buildings in a single bound, solve all the world’s problems, bring about world peace even, if given the material to work with.
A gilded ray of brilliance for all to follow.
He stuck his hand between the closing elevator doors and gained himself admittance on a half-filled car. Greeted the half dozen employees inside with the megawatt smile the press loved to capture and made a mental note of who was putting in the extra effort coming in early. Gerald from finance flashed him a swaggering grin as if they shared an inside joke. Jennifer Thomas, PA to one of the vice presidents, who was normally a sucker for his charm, did a double take at his friendly “good morning” and muttered something unintelligible back. The woman from legal, what was her name, turned her back on him.
Strange.
The weird vibe only got worse as the doors opened on the executive floors and he made his way through the still-quiet space to his office. Another PA gave him the oddest look. He looked down. Did he have power shake on the front of his shirt? Toothpaste on his face?
Power shake stains ruled out, he frowned at his fifty-something PA, Mary, as she handed him his messages. “What is wrong with everyone today? The sun is shining, sales are up…”
Mary blinked. “You haven’t been online, have you?”