When the plane leveled off, he felt her take a deep breath and knew that the worst of her terror was over. He wanted to tell her that they would never have to fly again. But the truth was, they might need to fly out to Denver tomorrow morning and then out to Seattle tomorrow night, depending on what he found out in the meetings this afternoon.
“Read the reports,” he told her, more gently than he’d intended as he stood up and put her back into her seat alone. “We’ll talk over lunch.”
With those words, he moved back to his seat and picked up his own reports. But he couldn’t absorb any of the information in them. His whole mind was focused only on the woman who slowly spread the reports out across the table, her fingers shaking as she worked to overcome her fear of flying.
With her head bent low, Rachel made notes in all the margins of issues she found with each company. She didn’t look up, didn’t hesitate and didn’t even communicate with Emerson or Jack or whoever he wanted to be today. She focused only on the reports, trying to come up with an investment strategy. She had no idea what he might be looking for, but she was more than willing to put her own insight into the companies.
By the time the plane touched down, she was back in control and had several ideas in her head about the company profiles Jack, or Emerson, had given to her to review. “What’s next?” she asked as efficiently as her nervous mind could muster.
“Next, we go meet my staff. We have three meetings before lunch.”
Rachel looked at her watch, not sure how he would get three meetings in before noon but she followed him reluctantly out of the plane and into the next waiting limousine. This one drove them out of the airport and right into downtown Manhattan. Rachel could feel her excitement growing as the car moved throughout the mid-morning traffic. She could instantly feel the pulsating energy of the city, knew that this was exactly where she belonged. And if it meant putting up with an obnoxious, irritating and lying bastard like Jack, or more accurately, Emerson, then she would do it. She could ignore the hurt that was pounding through her at all the lies he’d told her throughout the past several weekends. If he was going to play hardball, she could do the same.
She told herself that over and over again throughout the next several hours. She followed Emerson from one meeting to another, listening, taking notes, observing how he treated some people versus others. He seemed to be kinder to the support staff while his managers were treated with almost contempt. Nothing was good enough for him where they were concerned but, thankfully, she managed to impress him over their lunch by recommending three of the companies from the batch he’d handed her on the plane. Unfortunately, by the end of their meal, he’d shot down every one of them, telling her in painful detail all the issues she’d missed with each company and why her three choices were bound to fail.
As the waiter took their plates away, Rachel stared at him, hurt and confused. She tried very hard to hide it, but she could tell by the hardening look in his eyes that he’d grasped her emotions. She sat up straight, refusing to be intimidated by his reaction. “But none of your points were in the information you gave me!” she defended herself, feeling like a fool but trying to imitate his hard-hitting body language.
He wasn’t immune to the pain in her pretty green eyes but he shook his head mercilessly. “A good lesson to learn, Rachel,” he said softly, his blue eyes boring into her green ones. “Never count on someone else to give you all the information you need to make a decision. There’s always more. There’s always a hidden agenda.”
She didn’t have time to figure out what his hidden agenda was because they left the restaurant at that point and hurried into more meetings. In every meeting, someone was asking Emerson to invest in their company, spouting statistics about revenue histories, profit projections, marketing concepts, commodities prices and so many numbers Rachel’s mind seemed to be floating in a haze of bewilderment.
At one point, she glanced over at Emerson, trying to see if he was feeling what she was, but he looked supremely confident, nodding at every point, tossing out questions, challenging their assertions. Several of the people who were presenting stumbled over his questions. They looked dumbfounded that he knew so much – their corporate secrets, supposedly secret problems with a distribution vendor, or a multitude of other issues. Of course, the presenters didn’t want any of these things revealed. Those people left with their tail between their legs, having gotten an impressive verbal lashing from Emerson.
After six hours of meetings and research, trying to keep up with Emerson and anticipate his next move, Rachel could only contemplate settling down with a glass of wine and a long, hot bubble bath. She couldn’t think any longer, couldn’t react to Emerson’s tough words or his sharp demands another moment. She just wanted to sink down and not think about anything.
“Time to go,” he said when the last of the staff members had exited the conference room.
The possibility of a bubble bath popped cruelly out of her mind. She quickly gathered up her things and raced out of the room in his wake. “Where are we going now?” she asked, speeding to keep up with his longer legs. Her feet were aching from the high heeled shoes she’d put on this morning, her mind was numb and her heart was still angry and muddled by all that had happened today.
“There’s the gala tonight,” he told her as he pressed the elevator button, “and I doubt you have anything appropriate to wear so I’ve taken the liberty of having something delivered for you. After that, we are having dinner with the Warricks. Have you memorized the biographies that Jennifer gave you before lunch?”
Rachel panicked. “I’d forgotten about that,” she replied, feeling defeated but trying to hide it. She’d just finished stuffing everything into her leather bag but she pulled it back off of her shoulder, digging through the documents people had given her until she found the blue file folder his assistant had handed her as they were walking out of the building for lunch. At the time, Rachel hadn’t had any clue what was contained in the folder and Jack…she shook her head…Emerson hadn’t given her time to even open it up as they’d moved out of the building to the waiting limousine. He’d been giving her instructions that she’d been frantically trying to write down. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had time to even follow through on any of those instructions.