Owned By Fate Page 17

  “Well. This is your meeting now, Caroline.” Philip sat once more and straightened his tie. “Why not make the vote your first order of business? Do we pursue Oliver’s proposal to transform Preston’s into a lifestyle magazine, in which, as he describes it, finance is combined with adventure?” He leaned back in his chair, seemingly unconcerned. “Or do we remind readers why they’ve trusted Preston’s for five decades by pursuing newer, bigger advertisers and thinking outside the box?”

  The beating in Caroline’s ears grew louder, but she forced herself to stay calm. Her father meant well, but they were in a time where everyone thought outside the box. Advertisers didn’t throw their lot in with a sinking ship, either. When he said he wanted to move Preston’s into this century, she wasn’t sure anymore if he meant it.

  Caroline cleared her throat. “Let’s dispense with the formalities, first of all. I think we both know you and Oliver stand on opposite sides of this decision. It comes down to me.” She looked at her brother. “I’m voting for Oliver.”

  For one brief, dramatic moment, silence reigned. Then Philip’s fist came down hard on the table. “Are you out of—?”

  “Excuse me.” Her voice rang with authority, surprising even herself. Jonah’s words in the jazz club came back to her then, soothing her like lemonade in summertime. You’re going to be a force, Caroline. You have the ability to accomplish it in your little finger. She sat up a little straighter in her chair. “This is my meeting, and I’m not finished speaking.”

  Philip seethed but kept quiet. When she turned to Oliver, there was a mixture of pride and disbelief on his face.

  “I believe you were going to ask me, Father, if I’m out of my mind. The answer is no. Far from it.” She pulled a sheaf of papers from her briefcase and slid them across the table. “Oliver’s research into our potential new demographic is impeccable, in addition to the limited financial risk of this pursuit. Asher Laurie’s company is on the way up, and we are damn lucky they want to take us along.” She waited until Philip picked up the paperwork and actually looked at it. “You’re retiring. This will ensure you can make that transition comfortably while leaving me and Oliver with a thriving business venture to cultivate ourselves.” Caroline softened her voice. “You built an amazing publication here, but it will always be yours. This is something we both feel strongly about, and I’m asking you to trust us. We’ll proceed without your vote, but it’s important to me that we have your blessing.”

  Her father hung his head a moment, staring down at his hands. “I just keep asking myself how your mother would feel about all this.”

  Caroline felt her throat tighten. “I think she’d be proud of Oliver and me for working together to create something new, whether she agreed with it or not.”

  Oliver spoke for the first time, his voice sounding rusty. “She always used to say if we believed in what we were doing, then she’d double that belief.”

  Philip exchanged a poignant glance with Oliver but still looked unconvinced. “I don’t…I don’t know if I can.”

  Disappointment tinged with sadness flooded Caroline’s chest, but she kept her features schooled and nodded resolutely. “Okay. I understand.” She accepted the paperwork back from him and filed it into her briefcase, giving herself time to recover before dealing her final card. “I have one more order of business before we end the meeting.”

  Looking slightly dazed, Philip nodded.

  “Apart from this initial vote, my first order of business as president will be to make Oliver my equal partner.” Her brother looked stunned. “While our areas of expertise differ, we’ll make every decision together. We’ve more than proven we’re capable of that.”

  Her words hung in the air without a response until Oliver broke the silence. “I don’t know what to say, Ro, except…” He blew out a breath. “Let’s bring the house down.”

  Caroline smiled, never more positive that she’d made the right decision. “I voted your way because you nailed it. I’m sorry it took me so long to see that.” She swallowed heavily, thinking of Jonah. “It seems to be a running theme for me lately.”

  Before Oliver could question her cryptic statement, Caroline stood to address Philip one last time. “The announcement will run on Monday on the front page of Preston’s. Oliver and I will begin work on the transition immediately.” She started to leave, but then turned back. “Oh, and…there might be some press coverage involving me in the upcoming days. Might want to lay low.”

  “Wait.”

  Caroline and Oliver stilled, watching Philip rise slowly to his feet.

  “I, uh…I must say, I’m torn between pride and melancholia right now,” he said. “It’s hard to watch something you’ve built and loved turn into something you can’t recognize. Not only is my business growing and changing, but so are my children, apparently. Wonder how I missed that?” He locked eyes with each of them. “You have my support. Don’t fuck it up.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jonah stepped out of the distinctly girlie bedroom he’d finally completed with the help of a Pottery Barn Kids catalog and turned off the light. Next time he was in the apartment, Gabby would also be there. Renee would accompany her…their daughter on her first visit, but after that it would just be the two of them. After meeting Gabby, he was even more certain that pink was an ill-advised choice, but they’d work on it. If she wanted posters of Disney Channel stars or superheroes, he’d get them for her. He’d give her whatever she wanted.

  Knowing he shouldn’t, Jonah walked the short hallway and entered the master bedroom. He’d paid the delivery guys extra to assemble the bed, not feeling capable of it himself at the time. It was pathetic, really. He’d held Caroline as she slept in a bed—not even this particular one—for a mere five minutes, and he’d somehow ruined himself for all beds. For sleep. Dreams. They all consisted of her. Every fucking one. Caroline looking at him from over the rims of her glasses, those lips pursed and smug. Caroline standing in his bedroom wearing nothing but a red thong, vulnerable and brave. Caroline staring at him from the back of a cab as she drove away.

  What would she think of this place? If she could see the home he’d created, so vastly different from his dark cave above Serve. Would she approve of the blue billowy curtains he’d had a hell of a time figuring out? The ones so similar to the ones he’d seen in her bedroom that he’d had to have them. Needed them, if for no other reason than a reminder she’d invited him into her room for a brief time. What it had felt like to hold her. Would she climb into his big, new four-poster bed and flop back, stretching her arms above her head, inviting him to climb on top of her?

  Jesus. Stop. He had to stop.

  Every time he got to this point, which had been countless times over the last couple days, he remembered how she’d looked walking into the conference room. Even now, the memory had sharp denial flooding him. Dammit, a stiff wind could have knocked her over. Her eyes, already so big in her face, had looked larger, haunted, smudges of black beneath. Skin, usually glowing and vibrant, had looked pale in the harsh lighting. And still, still, he’d been able to see the outline of his garter beneath her skirt.

  He’d been selfish with her. Incredibly so. He’d made it his responsibility to care for her, to make sure their relationship only caused her to thrive, but he’d withered her in the process. Forgiveness for himself wouldn’t be happening any time soon. He didn’t deserve it. Maybe she’d been right all along, and he didn’t deserve her.

  Jonah backed out of the bedroom, commanding the image of Caroline stretched out on his bed to fade. It wouldn’t. It followed him all the way to the subway station, sitting on his shoulders and slithering through his consciousness like smoke. He had a driving need to know she was in better shape than when he’d left her, but he wouldn’t allow himself that privilege. No, he would keep his vow to her. If nothing else, when she thought of him in passing weeks, months, or years from now, he wanted her to remember him as a man who kept his promises.

  He
stood on the subway platform, waiting for the train to arrive. The train that would take him back to Serve, a place that used to fill him with pride and purpose but now only felt empty, lifeless, now that she’d been inside it and gone. He leaned over the track to check for the train’s headlights and saw none yet, so he turned toward the underground newsstand behind him and asked for a pack of Red Vines. As the clerk dipped below the counter to retrieve the licorice, the headline of Preston’s ReVAMPed demanded his attention.

  “What the hell?” he murmured, reaching for the partially covered magazine. What he saw made his heart slow, slow, before racing wildly. The sound of the oncoming train roaring past the platform behind him matched the deafening pulse ripping in his ears. On the cover of the magazine was a picture of Caroline and Oliver, announcing their plans for a merger, turning Preston’s into a sophisticated lifestyle magazine with a financial twist. Jonah tried to focus on the words, the announcement, but his eyes were continually drawn back to the picture of Caroline, her posture so composed but her solemn expression jumping off the page and going right through him.

  He tore his gaze away from the sight of her and glanced at the bottom of the page where the article ended.

  I’m in love with you, Jonah Briggs. Everything about you. Don’t give up on me.

  Missing you. Needing you. C

  As Jonah slowly lowered the magazine to his side, the train screeched to a stop behind him.

  …

  Caroline threw a glance over her shoulder, sighing at the abundance of news camera lenses trained on her as she approached Serve. They’d been following her doggedly since that morning, about an hour after the Times piece ran. She’d refused to give them any kind of statement or sound bite, hoping they would leave her alone and let her work speak for itself, but she’d had no luck avoiding them.

  The response to her Ponzi scheme exposé had gone beyond anything she’d imagined. The arrest of Joseph Kimble at his Long Island residence that morning continued to run as the lead story on every major news station in the country. As soon as that footage had gone live of Kimble’s walk of shame, news agencies had begun scrambling to find the next biggest scoop. Namely her. The upstart financial journalist who, while respected in the journalism community, hadn’t quite made a name for herself yet. Until today.

  Coupled with Preston’s front-page announcement that their renowned financial publication would be transforming into a magazine dedicated to walking on the wild side, the media had sat up and paid attention. For hours, her cell and office phones had been ringing off the hook. Several interview requests and one oddly endearing marriage proposal later, she’d turned off her phone just to keep her sanity. Perhaps tomorrow, when the dust settled, she could consider the offers with an eye as to how the publicity could jump-start the new Preston’s. But not today. Not when any kind of future with Jonah was up in the air.

  Oliver had thought her insane for leaving the office this evening, walking straight into the throng of question-hurling reporters, but she’d had no choice. The abhorrent thought of going another day without seeing Jonah had propelled her out the door, speed-walking along the sidewalk from the Financial District toward Tribeca. She’d taken down one of the country’s most influential money moguls in the business, but her nerves had remained intact until now.

  Caroline planned to walk into Serve and get her man. On live television, if necessary. Getting him back was the plan, anyway. Said man had to be willing to be gotten. For all she knew, he’d turn away from her, having already moved on to someone who wouldn’t treat him unfairly. Granted, the cameras were annoying, but maybe her walking into Serve with them filming her every step would help Jonah get the message. I’m not ashamed of you. I not only accept everything about you, I celebrate it.

  Forcing a smile onto her face, Caroline approached the bouncer. He raised an eyebrow at the camera crew chasing her down the street, shrugged, and lifted the velvet rope. She murmured her thanks as she passed, having expected that very response. After all, this was New York. She wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last woman chased into a club by cameras in this town.

  All three times she’d come to Serve before today, her initial feelings upon arrival had been ambiguous. Concerned about being seen, confusion over the anticipation in her belly, a touch of intimidation. Now, as the shouts outside were cut off, darkness enfolded her like a soft blanket. This was where Jonah would be. There was simply no name for the feeling the possibility of his presence invoked. Portishead played from a hidden speaker, layered over the hum of conversation, mated with the dim lighting to give her the feeling she’d been transported into a dream. Just that single step inside the door and she already felt closer to him.

  Garnering her courage, Caroline sat down at the bar, crossed her legs carefully, and waited. Jonah had seen her once through his video cameras and come downstairs for her. Unless he’d been living under a rock for the last ten hours, he would have heard about her article. He’d know about the decision she’d made regarding the future of Preston’s. Yes, she’d made those decisions because she firmly believed they would benefit her family, but they’d also been messages to Jonah. He just had to receive them.

  “Drink?”

  Caroline glanced up at the semi-familiar-looking bartender. “Something strong, please.”

  “Got it.” He poured three different liquids into a cocktail shaker and shook it before pouring the red drink into a martini glass.

  When he pushed it toward her on a square napkin, Caroline gave him a questioning look. “What happened to the lollipops?”

  The bartender shrugged. “Boss didn’t want to use them anymore.”

  “Oh,” she responded, trying to ignore the rising tide of grief. “Is, um, Mr. Briggs…here?”

  He regarded her curiously. “As far as I know, he’s upstairs as usual. Did you want me to tell him you’re here?”

  Was she projecting or did she see a hint of sympathy on his face? He must know what she’d already guessed. If he were upstairs monitoring the club, he would have seen her arrive. If he wanted to see her, he’d be downstairs by now.

  “No, no.” She waved away the offer. “I-it’s fine. Don’t bother him.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but another customer demanded his attention. Caroline stared into her drink for an interminable length of time, the music getting louder around her, people packing close at the bar, until it became devastatingly obvious that Jonah wouldn’t come. She’d failed. Her final option would be taking the elevator to the upper floors, but she didn’t know where he’d be and wouldn’t embarrass herself by searching.

  Rousing herself with an iron will, Caroline drained the contents of her drink and stood. She excused herself several times walking through a crowd of people, noting absentmindedly that most of them were discussing Kimble and his now-infamous Ponzi scheme. A few whispers told her she hadn’t gone unrecognized, but it barely registered. Breathing through her nose, she focused on holding it together long enough to exit with some semblance of dignity.

  The bouncer nodded at her gently as she passed, telling her she hadn’t quite managed to hide the overwhelming sense of loss threatening to drown her. When the cameras lit up immediately on her exit and voices started begging for a verbal reaction, she picked up her pace, heels clicking on the cold pavement. If she opened her mouth now, she had no idea what would come out. Sobs…epithets…screams? All three?

  She pulled her trench coat tighter, realizing fuzzily that she’d never even taken it off at the bar. Had she known subconsciously he wouldn’t come?

  “Caroline.”

  Her footsteps came to an abrupt halt, Jonah’s voice resonating through her very soul. Slowly, she turned to face him. Looking tired and disheveled, yet heartbreakingly handsome at the same time, he stood ten feet from her, a magazine clutched in his fist. Her gaze ran over him, head to toe, soaking in his image like a woman dying of thirst. He did the same to her, his attention only drawn away when the filmin
g news cameras circled them.

  When he spoke, his voice shook with quiet intensity. “Where have you been?”

  “Here.” She swiped at the moisture on her cheek. “What about you?”

  Jonah raised a hand and began to tick off fingers. “Your apartment. Your office. Our steak house. Our jazz club. Anywhere I can think of that reminds me of you.” His hand dropped down against his thigh. “Turns out, everywhere reminds me of you, Caroline. Everywhere.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, joy winging through her chest. The cameramen had gone silent, as had the crowd spilling out from the club. It was so unnaturally quiet, Caroline worried it was all an elaborate dream. He’d gone looking for her, wanting to see her. Dammit, that was a start.

  Jonah held up the wrinkled magazine in his fist. “You tell me you’re in love with me, you print it on the front page of your family’s magazine, then you turn your phone off and disappear?”

  Caroline’s hand shot to her jacket pocket where the phone sat silently. “Oh God, I forgot.” She encompassed the cameramen with a glance. “It’s been a long day.”

  “For both of us.” Slowly, he closed half of the distance between them, shooting a warning glance at a cameraman who inched too close to her. “It’s going to be a very long time before I forgive you—”

  “I know,” she whispered into the deathly silence.

  Something she couldn’t name shone in his eyes as he shook his head. “You still haven’t learned any patience yet, have you? I’m not finished, sweetheart.” Finally, blessedly, he reached her. “It’s going to be a long time before I forgive you for not being within reaching distance when I found out you love me. Every second I’ve spent today without you has been a nightmare. I’ve needed to hold you so fucking badly.”