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At the end she’d caught herself. If she couldn’t stop him, she had to carry on, act as if it wasn’t as important as she’d first thought, and give him space.
But it did make her want to scream. She’d cultivated him for years, gaining his confidence and carefully nudging things along in the right direction, in her direction. And now this! She’d known the risk in coming to New York—that Lissa Edwards would discover Julio was in the city. She’d even considered the possibility that she’d want to contact him.
Even knowing all that, she’d screwed it up.
The truth was that she had been too fucking clever for her own good. She’d made sure that the concierge at the hotel knew that every message that came in for him came to her first. Then she’d gotten her hands on every phone number that Lissa used and blocked them on Julio’s cell phone so that if she called him, he’d never know. If she called any other number, Willa would know. Then she’d be warned and could take steps.
But she’d totally spaced out about the phone in the room. Who called the phone in the room? That was for room service, and calling the concierge to arrange a taxi. No one called a person’s hotel-room phone anymore. You called their cell phone, so it didn’t matter where they were.
What a string of goddamn coincidences: Lissa had called the damn hotel room; the call had been put through; he was there and answered; and instead of screaming at him, like an ordinary woman, she invited him to dinner.
Her heart pounded. If they dropped the barriers she’d help build between them, if they actually talked, Willa would be out on her ass. They’d never find hard evidence of anything, but they didn’t need any. If they started cataloging all their attempts to reach the other person, a pattern would emerge. A pattern that would show them both that she and Tina had conspired to drive them apart.
It was so damn stupid, so bloody careless. She could easily have asked the switchboard to route Julio’s calls to her room. She could have, but she never thought about it. Not even once.
She sat down and forced herself to be calm. It was safe to assume they’d talk, or at least start talking. They might not work out her part in things immediately, but they would. Julio wasn’t an idiot, and he would find out what she did sooner or later. There was no way she was going to wait for him to confront her, or give him a chance to fire her. No, survivors were proactive.
It was time to backtrack, get back the things that mattered. When things were going wrong, the first thing to do was to examine your goals. It was foolish to be attached to a strategy. If it stopped working, then you tossed that approach away and started fresh. That’s something she’d learned from working for Julio. It was why he was so successful. His competitors couldn’t be certain of what he’d do next.
So back to the goals. Working for Julio wasn’t important—the job was a stepping-stone to power. She certainly didn’t care about the romantic part. That was just to cement her position. What mattered was moving into a position of power. She’d started working for Julio because she had the opportunity, and with him gained experience in running large projects, which meant controlling vast sums of money. That gave you power. It gave you chances to make money, either directly or through back channels.
She was known now, not the unknown face she’d been when she started. She had contacts. Unlike Tina, she had no interest in starting a company. Startups were a gamble, an unnecessary throw of the dice. What mattered was the power you wielded, not the name on the door. Now she needed a new position, a more powerful one. The beautiful thing about companies that did the sort of work Julio did was that most of the key jobs were defined by the person filling the slot. She’d taken a secretarial job, turned it into a personal-assistant slot, and had been making it even more. Perhaps it was time to move anyway. If she stepped across to another company, she had a lot to offer: experience, contacts, and insights into how Julio did things. It was a powerful combination. Add to that her own presence, her sex appeal, and her ability to work parties, and she could offer a decent package—one that should be worth a substantial salary.
She went to the bar and poured herself a whiskey and carried it out to her balcony where she stared out over New York as she sipped it. She could live here—the US, New York City. It would be a change, and she’d miss a lot about Europe, but she’d get to Europe often enough. If she played her cards right, she’d be needing an apartment in Milan soon. She pictured having an apartment in New York City and one in Milan, and decided it made her feel good.
The work, the intrigue, none of that would change, except that she’d be a bigger fish in an elite pond. That felt good as well. Better than sex. She sipped the drink and ran scenarios through her head, not discarding any that might have promise, even if they seemed unlikely. Lissa was in the game, but Tina had overplayed her hand. She was dead meat, and that spelled an opening.
When she finished her drink, she went back into the room and got out her laptop. A quick search got her the number she needed out of her contact list. She took out her phone and dialed.
When he answered, she felt a rush. “This is Willa Gruber,” she said. “I’d like to meet with you, at your convenience.”
“To discuss what?”
“The possibility of us working together, me working for you.”
He paused. Finally, she heard pages turning. “My dinner engagement for tonight is nothing important. Would you like to meet at eight at Bouley? Their calamari is superb.”
“I’ve heard that. What an excellent idea.”
“Actually, I have an errand to run. I think you are staying at the Park Plaza, right?”
“Yes. For the moment.” She wondered how long she’d be there. Now that she had set her mind on the idea that things were going to change, that change couldn’t happen fast enough.
She heard him chuckle. “I see. Well, I can come by and pick you up in my limo if you like. Taxis can be unpleasant. Unless, of course, this meeting needs to be covert. I don’t imagine Julio knows you are calling me.”
“He doesn’t know yet, but I see no advantage in keeping this a secret. I’d love for you to pick me up, Mr. Acker.”
“Please. If we are going to have dinner together, you have to call me ‘Tom.’”
She smiled to herself. He was already flirting with her. This would be better than she had hoped. “Thank you, Tom. I’ll be in the lobby at eight.”
When she hung up, she glanced at the clock. She didn’t have long, but she had time to get to an upmarket clothing store and get a dress that would be elegant and sexy. Acker was known to enjoy women, and Willa was certain that Tina had slept with him already in the hope of getting him to sign that contract. Well, it wasn’t signed, and she intended to make Tom Acker a better offer, even if that had to include sleeping with him.
First impressions were so important, and she wanted to make a good one—one that would get him hard with wanting her. After that, she’d be on her way. To Milan and beyond.
# # #
The tall, elegant man was sitting in a booth in the back of the hotel bar. She went over to him, and he slid out of the seat and took her hand. “I’m delighted to finally meet you,” he said, offering her a seat. He looked her over as the waiter came to the table, and it continued when they’d ordered drinks. She sat back, rather enjoying his open stare, the way he drank in her body.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” she said.
He shook his head. “I’m delighted to finally see you in person. So you are the power behind the throne.”
Willa liked that characterization. “That sounds grand, but I’m not aware of having much power or even knowing anyone with a throne.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are very aware of the power you wield, but I find modesty becoming in a woman—even false modesty. It lets us men get away with thinking we are actually important for a bit longer. The illusion of this being a man’s world is preserved, if only for an instant.”
“That’s very suave, but rather obvious, too.”
/> “How so?”
“Such self-effacing humor is a standard tool men use to preserve their fiefdom.”
The man let his eyes sparkle. “Touché.” He sipped his drink. “I must admit that while I’m enjoying exchanging pleasantries and the company of a lovely woman, my heart beats to know the reason for our meeting. As the strong right hand of my only real competitor, I have to wonder whether I should be flattered or in fear for my life.”
She liked his humorous approach. “When in doubt, always choose being flattered. If you are wrong, at least your final moments will be pleasant, and you can die with a smile on your face.”
“You have a good attitude,” he said.
“I wanted to explore the possibilities with you. I thought if we could meet and talk, we could see if we shared any common interests, if there were any ways we might work together for the common good.”
“Ah, a socialistic approach to capitalism—what a fascinating idea.” She let the idea sit. “I promise to stop belittling everything you say. It’s a nasty defense mechanism that crops up when I think I’m being manipulated.”
“You are being manipulated.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh my, that does require elaboration.”
“Tina Peters.”
He laughed. “Lovely Tina? Yes, she does go to lengths to get what she wants.” He winked. “I’m not sure she wants what she gets, but then that’s true of us all.”
“So she won’t be a key player on your team? I didn’t imagine she could convince you that she was more than second rate in that capacity.”
“Without tipping my hand, I will say she can be useful at organizing and motivating people who are far more talented than she is.”
“The foreman for her intellectual slaves?”
His roar of laughter was hearty. “Oh, I like that. It’s perfect. You must know Tina well.”
“Well enough. She is clever and treacherous, but not particularly useful to you in the current situation.”
Acker looked steadily at her for a moment, then grinned. “All pretty women can be dangerous. Sometimes I think the prettier they are, the more deadly they can be.” He raised his empty glass to catch the waiter's eye. “Of course, without danger, where is the real pleasure?”
“You are surprising, Tom Acker.”
“Because I know how the world works? I’ve been in it a lot longer than you.”
“Not because you’ve learned how it works, but because you enjoy it the way it is. So many people crumble when they realize that the reason cost-benefit analysis is so useful is that because both costs and benefits are real, and they are both relative.”
“And when you analyze them, those costs and very real benefits, what, exactly, are you analyzing, my pretty, dangerous Willa Gruber?”
She smiled. “Why, the possibility of getting out from behind a throne without sacrificing power, Tom Acker.”
The drinks came, ` and he held his up. “You aren’t as transparent as this fine Scotch they serve here, but I think you are being truthful.”
“For us, there is only one current event, Tom. It all comes down to the Milan project. There won’t be anything like it for a time, not that you and I would be running. Most things on the horizon of any magnitude are either dull government jobs with more restrictions than possibilities, or self-aggrandizing projects of sheiks who want opulence. These don’t offer chances to innovate, to create a showcase for your abilities.”
“That seems likely.”
“This one does, and I want a seat on the front row.”
