The Magnate's Manifesto(55)

She slid her legs over the side of the bed and padded to the window in time to see the very inelegant green garbage truck move on to the next storefront, hogging most of the narrow street with its robust, squat girth. Watching it made her think. Was Jared right? Was her determination to distance herself from her past destroying her instead of saving her?

She opened the French doors, walked out onto the balcony and braced her palms on the railing. She was proud, extremely proud of what she’d accomplished. Of whom she’d become. If she’d hadn’t had the past she’d had, she wouldn’t be the person she was now. And maybe that was the way she needed to look at herself: accept the parts she didn’t like, the parts she was ashamed of, because they were part of the whole package like it or not.

The cold light of day was telling, exposing, and she shivered against the glare of it. Last night as the world had learned the truth of her, she’d felt as if she’d disintegrated into a million pieces. Funny how you could wake up the next morning and still be here. Could still hurt. Could still be angry.

Could discover that even though you thought the past had the power to destroy you, it really didn’t. Not unless you let it.

The graffiti-emblazoned garbage truck turned the corner to meander down the next street, leaving only Jared’s stark rejection of her in its wake. She’d spent her life being tougher than all the rest. Refusing to give in when the odds were stacked against her. Which explained why his words had hurt so much last night. She couldn’t stand to be a quitter. She couldn’t stand for him to think she was a quitter.

Couldn’t stand for him not to love her.

Her heart squeezed hard in her chest. She hadn’t even known she wanted to be loved. Hadn’t known she craved it, needed it, like some missing piece of the puzzle that was her until now. It was frightening, terrifying, and it had made her drive him away last night—perhaps for good.

She pressed her fingers to the pounding pulse at her temples. Jared wanted a woman she didn’t even know yet. It was a vulnerable, open version of herself he brought out. Not the old or the new Bailey, something else entirely. It occurred to her that maybe that’s who she needed to be. A product of her past but in command of her future.

Increased activity on the street told her it was time to go inside and dress. The pitch was today. And the only thing she was certain about this morning was that she had to win this for Jared. Support him as he’d supported her this entire time.

She was dressed in a conservative gray pantsuit when she stopped, high heels in hand. No way was she doing this. Downplaying her femininity just because those men now thought she was entertainment for hire.

That would be letting them win.

She shrugged out of the suit and reached for the new chic mauve one she’d purchased on a whim on the Champs-Elysées. The material was gorgeous and the skirt showed a lot of leg.

Jared knocked on the door just as she’d finished dressing. His mouth curved as he looked her over. “That your battle gear?”

“Something like that.”

He stepped closer and tucked a chunk of her hair behind her ear. “There isn’t another person I’d want by my side today.”

The dark glimmer of emotion in his eyes sent a flicker of hope through her. “Nor I.”

She led the way out of the room. Today wasn’t about emotion. Today was about getting the job done.



Jared spent the short ride from their hotel to the Maison offices finding his center. He’d spent the night sleepless and keyed up, not just because of what had happened with Bailey, but because this was it. One way or another his future would be determined today. He was done romancing the board, done proving himself when that’s all he’d done over the past ten years to make money for his shareholders. They had to climb aboard his vision, understand where the future was, or he was out.

He stared out the window, watching the mad drivers dart in and out of traffic with an early-morning fervor that was just this side of frightening. Winning the Maison partnership would be an incredible achievement. He could transform the consumer electronics industry with it. But he could no longer sacrifice his soul for the company he’d built. Maybe it was the summons from his father that had done it, the knowledge that life was finite. But he knew the path and it wasn’t this.

He didn’t need a trek to the Himalayas to find peace. He needed to trust himself. And he wanted to be back in his labs creating with the engineers.

The car rolled to a halt in front of the skyscraper containing the Maison offices. The Gehrig team had already pitched when they walked into the metal-and-chrome boardroom, filled to the brim with the marketing, PR and sales teams. He read the atmosphere: alive but not buzzing. And knew they just had to set the room on fire and the deal was theirs.