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WHEN I RETURNED TO my office, I was sidelined by Ann, who motioned me away from her desk and the proximity of Alex’s office, presumably for privacy.
“The board just broke up,” she said. “Alex is in his office.”
“That was sooner than expected. How did he look?”
“Furious. I’ve never seen him so upset. In an hour, he plans to hold a press conference.”
“I knew that one was coming. Naturally, one had to come—and in this case, the sooner the better. When I first got here, I asked Tank to make sure that it was held in the lobby, not outside.”
“I’ve since talked with him. Everything is set.”
“Are the other board members still here?”
“I think they left.”
“Left? They’re not going to stand behind him on this?”
“I’m not sure. They could have gone elsewhere in the building. I watched them get into one of the elevators, and then they were gone. Alex will be able to answer that question for you.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No—I just wanted you to know that Alex is back.”
Her undercurrent was clear: And that he needs you now.
We started to walk back toward her desk.
“Thank you, Ann. I don’t know how you do it, but you always know how to handle every situation—especially the difficult ones. I appreciate it.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
I went to Alex’s office, knocked twice on his door, and went inside when he called for me to come in.
* * *
WHEN I CLICKED THE door shut behind me, I found him seated at his desk and staring intently at his computer. When he saw that it was me, a sense of relief came over him, and he immediately rose.
“Jennifer,” he said.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Pissed off, but happy as hell to see you.” He nodded toward his computer screen as I crossed the distance between us. “You’re all over the Internet, you know—including video. I was just watching what you had to say before you entered the building.”
“That didn’t take long.”
Even though he smiled at me, I could sense the tension behind that smile, and it sickened me. I would never know the extent of what he was going through, but I had a rough idea, and my heart went out to him.
He winked at me as I approached him. “I think I just heard you call me a genius a couple of times.”
“You are a genius. You’re more than a genius.”
“My true genius was to marry you.”
“Oh, Alex.”
I held out my arms to him, slipped into his embrace, and then closed my eyes when he enveloped me in his arms. For a long moment, we just stood there, holding each other and I could feel our energy passing between us. From the start of our relationship, what Alex and I always had was visceral. It began with a jolt of unexpected attraction when we first met in an elevator in this very building. But now, after months of dating that culminated in marriage, it had the full weight of love behind it.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t come with you this morning.”
“You got sick. It’s understandable. What’s happening right now is upsetting, and you took it hard. I don’t want you to worry about it, OK? You’re here now. That’s all that matters to me.”
“I feel as if I let you down.”
“You didn’t,” he said into my ear. “I promise you that you didn’t. But I’m glad that you’re here. I’ve missed you.”
When I pulled away from him, I gave him a meaningful kiss on the lips, which he returned with something that went beyond mere passion. He cupped my face in his hands, met my kiss with his own, and then gently ended it with several kisses on my lips, cheek, and neck. At this point in our relationship, we weren’t just lovers who happened to be married—we also were the best of friends. I couldn't imagine what he’d been through this morning, and I felt laced with guilt that I hadn’t been able to be there for him.
He sat down on his chair and patted a hand on his lap. “Sit with me,” he said. “I want you close to me.”
I did as he asked, hooking my right arm around his neck for support and feeling again just how strong he was. Alex stood six-foot-two, he wore his dark hair raked away from a chiseled face peppered with stubble, and his eyes were the color of the sea. They were his best feature—blue-green and framed by thick lashes. And now they were looking at me.
“Have I told you that you look beautiful?” he asked.
“I believe you did when we woke up.”
“Then I’ll say it again—you look beautiful, Jennifer.”
“I wish I felt beautiful.”
“Are you still feeling sick?”
“Just with concern.”
“Don’t be.”
I ran my fingers through his hair. “Have I told you how much I love you, Alex? And how sorry I am that this is happening to you? Because I am sorry. You of all people deserve better than this. This shouldn’t be happening to you. They shouldn’t be treating you this way.”
He shrugged. “But they are. It is what it is. I’ve been here before. I’ll make a statement, and we’ll see if that’s enough to settle down the media, as well as our investors.”
“How did it go with the board?”
“Let’s just say that some of them are less than pleased with me.”
“Is Stephen Rowe among them?”
He furrowed his brow at me. “Why would you ask that?”
I told him about my conversation with Blackwell.
“You got into an argument with her?”
“Only out of concern for you—but yes, it got intense in her office. But I haven’t taken it personally. She and I are friends—we’ll work it out. Both of us are just worried about you. We see thing differently, that’s all. You know I love her. And I hope that she knows it, too.”
“She does.”
“She and Bernie are going to pull me together for tomorrow night’s event. All we need is a little space from each other. For the rest of the day, I’m going to let things cool off between us. When I see her tomorrow night, I’ll address our little argument with a joke. That should break the ice, and get us back on track. It’s not a big deal.”
“How does she see things?”
“She’s particularly worried about Stephen Rowe’s intentions.”
“She should be.”
“So, she was right?” I checked myself. “But when isn’t she right?”
“You don’t know him like she does. How could you?”
“She said that he was a snake in the grass.”
“He is. I wish I’d known that when I invited him to join the board, but I didn’t. He seemed like a good fit. He seemed like a good guy.”
“Can he cause you any trouble?”
“With some effort—yes. But if I act swiftly enough and turn this around in our favor, he won’t have that chance. Time isn’t on his side. The stock will rebound. Hopefully, it will do just that after our investors hear what I’m going to say at the press conference.”
“What are you going to say?”
“That the SlimPhone is a hit. In two weeks, we’ve sold over two million units. That’s a win by anyone’s standards, but few in the media reported any of that this morning. And then there are all the other things that are happening with Wenn. Lisa and several of our other best-selling authors are about to come out with new books through Wenn Publishing within the next few weeks. In fact, Wenn Publishing is way up for the quarter, a fact that the press also ignored. So is Wenn Productions, which scored a huge hit last weekend with our thriller, ‘From Manhattan with Love.’ We also just sealed a pilot with NBC for our new series, ‘Fifth Avenue’. The press overlooked all of this today—they decided to leave it out and focus on the negative, because that’s what sells papers. It’s also the negative that draws viewers, and web hits. All they looked at were today’s numbers, which admittedly were crushed by the development of our phone. But you know what’s really big that not one single reporter touched upon?”
“Of course I do. Wenn Pharmaceutical.”
“That’s right. Our new HIV inhibitor is a game changer because it kills mutated versions of the virus before it attacks T-cells. It’s a revolutionary way to fight the virus, and it promises an even more effective way than other drugs to sustain one’s life to its natural conclusion. It’s already passed final trials. In the next few months, I’m confident that we’ll receive FDA approval, and that when the drug is released, it will only lift Wenn’s profits higher. We’re going to be fine, Jennifer. I’m not worried. The press might have chosen to focus solely on today’s unfortunate numbers, but through them, in the next hour, I’m going to make everyone aware of just how solid Wenn is, and how strong it will remain, because Wenn is nothing if not diversified.”
“Like I said—you’re a genius.”
“What I have is a team of the best people. You’re one of them. So, as my consultant, how do you feel about this direction? Am I on the right track?”
“The key will be in how you present the information. It must be direct, positive, swift, and upbeat. Don’t make any excuses. The world works in fifteen-second soundbites—remember that. If you say anything negative, that’s what they’re going to run with—so don’t go there. They’re going to ask you about the phone. Of course they are. So let them. When they do, take them to school and offer up the number of units Wenn has already sold. Then, before anyone can ask another question, move on with everything you’ve just told me. Barrel forward. Don’t let anyone interrupt you. You must sell the facts of how Wenn is nailing it through all of its many facets. People need to understand that the idea that Wenn is at risk just because of a damned phone is absurd. Give them the same concrete details you’ve given me. And then, just end the conference. Collect your papers, thank everyone for coming, and get the hell out of there. Ignore their attempts to ask additional questions, because they’ll just be leading questions meant to fuel their fire. Keep it short and sweet.”
“So, who’s the real genius here?” he asked.
“You were going to do that anyway.”
“Actually, I was prepared to go in and defend our phone. Then I was going to mention the rest of it. But you’re right. If I defend the phone, I’ll come off as reactive and defensive. And that’s what they’ll play. I need to cram that conference with nothing but positive information, and leave them with that.”
“I spoke with Ann earlier. She said that the board had left.”
“They’re here somewhere. They’ll be at the press conference.”
“Are you sure?”
“Unless they plan to go to war with me, they kind of have to be there. I don’t see them not being there.”
But an hour later, when we assembled in front of the press in the lobby, my worst fears were confirmed—Alex didn’t have the full board behind him.
When he spoke to the press, he did so with enthusiasm, despite the fact that he only had me at his side and the four members of the old guard Blackwell had mentioned earlier. The other three members were AWOL, and I knew that would send a clear message to the press that Alex, though full of optimism and facts, didn’t have the board’s full support. Reporters would take note of that—and in my gut, I knew that they’d run with it regardless of what he said. It was the negative piece of the equation that I’d hoped to sidestep because I knew that it was this that the business world would latch onto.
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING, when the day was behind us and by the time the markets had closed, Wenn’s stock—which had plummeted forty-three percent before Alex’s press conference—had rebounded by nine percent.
“We aren’t out of the woods yet,” he said to me when we stepped into our Fifth Avenue penthouse. When we married, we gave up Alex’s apartment at Wenn and purchased a new home on the corner of Fifth and Sixty-First Street to give us a fresh start. “But it’s something. The entire board didn’t show up to offer their support, so we’ll need to see how that plays out. I’m afraid it won’t be good.”
It was early evening, and beyond the windows that overlooked Fifth was a purplish hue punctuated by golden spots of amber-colored lights to the right and left of us. I dropped my clutch in the entryway, reached for his hand, and held it in mine as we moved into our apartment.
“I’m worried about their lack of support,” I said.
“Let’s see how the stock shakes out before we start to worry—we’ll have a good indication by morning. I messaged Robert, my head of PR, and told him that I’m prepared to do a host of interviews ASAP. He’ll field those calls and tell me who’s interested, and then, you and I will choose the opinion leaders we think could best make a difference when I lay out Wenn’s vision to them. I want to do as much of that as soon as possible. Do you agree?”
“I do.”
“Look, we’ve had a hell of a day. What do you say we sit down and just relax? Would you like martini?”
“Actually, I would. But let me make them. You go and sit in the living room. No, Alex, don’t give me that look. Take off your jacket and your tie. I’ll also bring us something to snack on since we haven’t had dinner.”
“We can go out to eat,” he said.
“Hell no.” I kicked off my heels and immediately felt better because my feet were swollen from standing in them for so long. “This girl is home with her husband. She’s going to indulge in a drink and a few bites to eat with him, and then we’ll see what comes later.”
He cocked his head at me. “What does that mean?”
I kissed him on the lips. “You never know what might come. So, go and sit down, stud. I’ll grab us what we need. Give me five minutes.”
When I returned with the drinks, Alex was sitting on one of the white sofas that overlooked Fifth. He’d removed his jacket and tie, and he’d unbuttoned his shirt to the point that I could see the concave of his throat and a trace of his chest. I thought he looked drained, not like himself, which was something I wanted to fix. I handed him his martini, put mine down on the coffee table, and then returned to the kitchen to retrieve a plate filled with cheeses, green grapes, and nuts. I put the plate down on the coffee table, sat as close to him as possible, and lifted my martini to him.
“Here’s to nailing the press conference,” I said.
“We’ll see if I nailed it.”
“You did. You didn’t give anyone a chance to change the agenda. It was perfect—and it was positive. Bravo.”
We touched glasses and sipped.
“God, that’s good,” he said. “Did you know that in Russia, they call vodka ‘my dear little water’. Sound appropriate?”
“It sounds as if I want to drink vodka from the tap if we should ever visit there.”
“Do you know what’s even better? Having you here with me. Riding this out with me. You mean the world to me, Jennifer. I’m so happy that you’re not only my wife, but that you’re my confidant and best friend.”
He put his drink back onto the coffee table, and then took mine from my hand and placed it next to his. I knew what was coming. He swept me into his arms, our lips met, and then suddenly he lifted me off the sofa and carried me to the bedroom.
When he made love to me that night, it defined what it was to make love. He was gentler than he’d ever been with me. It was a profound kind of love, the sort that made our connection deeper than it already was. He cupped my breasts in his hands, kneaded them, and gently sucked on my nipples, which were so unusually sensitive, I inexplicably climaxed.
“That was fast,” he said with a grin.
“It’s not as if I’m spent,” I countered.
“Then let’s consider that the first of many you’ll enjoy tonight.”
“Feel free to fulfill that promise.”
When he traced his tongue down my torso, I felt as if my body was on fire. My breathing quickened. I felt my heart begin to race. When he entered me with his tongue, I was at full boil, with my back arched as I writhed against him. I reached down and ran my fingers through his hair as he flicked his tongue over my folds. I wasn’t sure what it was—perhaps because today had been so stressful—but my body was more open and receptive to him than it ever had been. It was as if all of my nerve endings were calling out to him and craving his touch, in all of its many forms. I clutched a handful of his hair and pressed his mouth closer to me when he brought me to completion again.
“You’re in a mood,” he said.
“I don’t know what’s come over me. But I do know this—I want you inside of me.” I reached down between his legs and felt his length and girth throbbing in my hand.
“You don’t need any more time?”
I immediately sat up, straddled his lap, and took one of his nipples into my mouth. They were among the most sensitive parts of his body, and I licked and bit each one of them as he lifted me up and entered me.
When he did, I felt a searing pain—even at this point, I still wasn’t used to his size. But I adjusted to it, and I rode him. I fell on my back for him. I got on my knees for him. With each new position, he tossed me against the bed, his breath hot against my body, my hands outstretched and clutching the sheets as if they alone would take away the pleasure—and the pain.
As he continued to plunge into me, I could feel him pulsing through my entire body—not just my sex.
Somehow, our lovemaking was different this time. More intense.
When we both reached climax together, there was little question that, despite the day—or perhaps because of it—that this was us at our best.
