The Magnate's Manifesto(3)

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?”