One Night Standards (17 page)

Her mother's eyes were sad. “Sophie, honey, I know I was mad at you. And I'm still disappointed. But I love you. I'm not cutting you off. I'm simply trying to be reasonable.”

Sophie had steeled herself for her mother's anger. Her understanding and the compassion in her voice were unexpected. Sophie felt tears start to well up in her eyes, and she cleared her throat. “If you're not mad at me, why can't I still work with you?” She wiped at the corner of her eyes with her fingertips. “I know this was a big deal. But we can get other deals. We were starting to really get some traction at the sales conferences. If we work even harder—especially if we use some of the new stuff you developed—then I'm sure we can somehow turn it around….”

“Sophie, it's over,” her mother said. “This was it. If we didn't get the Marion account, then we were going to go under.”

“Things are tight, granted…”

“I took out a second mortgage on the house.”

Sophie goggled. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“You may be my business whiz kid, but there were some things I didn't think you needed to know,” her mother said with a tone of injured dignity. “I didn't want you to have the pressure of that, on top of everything else you were doing. Besides, you probably would've tried to stop me.”

“You're damned right I would have!” Sophie said, aghast. “How are you going to carry those payments?”

Her mother made a small sweeping gesture with her hand. “I've been meaning to downsize anyway.”

“You mean…you're losing your
house?
”

“I knew what I was getting into,” her mother replied. “Sophie, you have your own life and you made your own choices. I'm not putting the blame for this on you. I counted on this too much, I guess.”

It was impossible for Sophie to feel lower. She wanted to weep. “I didn't know,” she said, seeing how her mother must have felt betrayed. The Marion account meant far more than Sophie had realized, and it had already meant a lot. Now, with the closing of Diva Nation, her mother's retirement and now her home were disappearing. “This…Oh, God, Mom, this can't happen.”

“What are you going to do?” her mother asked. “Sophie, it's a lost cause.”

“You must hate me,” Sophie said.

“Let's not get melodramatic. I've already told you how I feel,” her mother said briskly. “Now, I'm working on putting it behind me. I never should've put myself in the position where I could be screwed by Trimera again. I need to pick up the pieces and move on.”

“There's got to be a way to undo this,” Sophie said, racking her brain.

“Sophie, knock it off.” Her mother stood up, shuffling in her slippers and pouring herself another cup of coffee. “I leaned too hard on my girls, that's all.”

“I wanted to help you!” Sophie protested. “I wouldn't have done all this if I didn't!”

“You were in over your head,” her mother said. “Admit it, Sophie. You love me, but you didn't fathom just how bad this would be. And as you said, you made your choices. I'm not saying that this guy is the devil. I'm saying—in the clutch, you chose him. Live with that.”

Sophie nodded, but her chest ached. She'd said as much to Mark—that she'd chosen him. She loved him; she craved him. But here, in the light of her mother's kitchen, hearing about the consequences, she felt petty and selfish and wrong.

“I wish I could make this up to you,” Sophie said.

“Yeah, well, if you come up with anything, let me know,” her mother said, and the knife twisted deeper into Sophie's heart. “In the meantime…I need to call a real estate agent this afternoon.”

Sophie watched as her mother went down the hallway, coffee cup in hand. Sophie looked around at all the product notes and samples that littered every horizontal surface.

She grabbed up her cell phone and dialed Mark. “Hey you,” he answered immediately. “How's it going? How are you holding up?”

Sophie quickly outlined the problem. “She's losing her house, Mark. I have to do something.”

Mark sighed over the crackle of cell reception. “I don't know what I can do, Sophie,” he said, his voice rich with regret.

“Isn't there some other account that we could land?” Sophie pleaded. “You know the industry, all the ins and outs. You know who's buying!”

“I can give you the names of a few distributors,” Mark said. “But…it's not going to be easy, and it'll take time. You guys are aiming too high. If you had a few years…”

“But she doesn't. I need to make a mint in a hurry,” Sophie said quickly.

“I'm so sorry,” Mark said.

Sophie closed her eyes. “It's all right,” she said. “It's not your problem.”

“Sophie, don't…”

“I didn't mean it like that,” she said. “But it is our company. And one way or another, we'll figure out a way around it.”

He sighed heavily. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”

“When can I see you again?”

“I'll be in New York to sort out some final things for Diva Nation,” she said. “We'll be together then.”

“I miss you,” he said.

“Miss you, too,” she replied. “I really have to go.”

He paused, then hung up.

She sat there for a second, feeling numb. Her mother would lose her house. Her company would go under. And as much as he loved her, Mark could not help her.

She had to help herself.

She picked up her cell phone, dialing carefully. “Marion & Co.,” the voice said cheerfully on the other line.

“I need to talk to Mrs. Abigail Marion,” Sophie said.

“May I ask who is calling?”

“Tell her that Sophie Jones from Diva Nation is calling,” Sophie said slowly. “Tell her I have a deal for her.”

“S
O WHAT DID YOU WANT
to set up this meeting for, Mark?” Roger said, sitting in his office. “I've only got about twenty minutes, by the way. I'm meeting with the CEO on the links at eleven.”

“I appreciate the time,” Mark said. Simone was sitting next to him, opposite Roger's broad glass desk. She looked puzzled, too. “This is about the Marion & Co. account.”

“You did a great job,” Roger said. “Surprised the hell out of me. Not just me, either.” He smiled, a broad, used-car salesman type smile. “If you're worried about getting the job, don't be. You earned it. I'll be sure you get that promotion.”

“That's good to know,” Mark said, savoring the satisfaction of the words for a second before plowing forward. “What I wanted to say was…Diva Nation did a great job, though. They came damned close.”

Roger shrugged. “I don't follow.”

Mark swallowed, surprised to find himself nervous. He hadn't felt this way since his first runway show, back when he was seventeen years old. But this was a big risk for him.

She's worth it.

“I was thinking,” Mark said cautiously. “It'd be a terrible waste for Diva Nation to fall off the map completely.”

Roger frowned, puzzled. Simone's eyes widened, Mark noticed.

“I would like the ability to hire Sophie,” he said.

Simone shook her head almost imperceptibly. Mark kept going.

“And I think it's a damned shame we fired Mrs. Jones, the chemist,” Mark said. “After all, she's the one who came up with those products. We really could use someone that innovative. I think she's adequately proven that her age isn't a factor.”

Roger was now bewildered. “You're saying…you want to
hire
the competition? Is that it?”

Mark nodded, trying hard to look casual. “I think it'd be a smart business move.”

Roger, to Mark's surprise, burst out laughing. “Christ, kid,” he muttered. “You know, maybe I was too hasty in telling you the promotion was in the bag.”

Mark blanched. “I won that account,” he protested.

“Yeah, and now you're trying to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. They're bush league,” Roger said dismissively. “We can't save all the orphans and lost puppies in the world, Mark. Life's hard. If they want to play against the big boys, they're just going to have to get hurt.” Roger crossed his arms, studying Mark curiously. “I would've thought you knew that by now.”

“What I'm saying isn't personal,” Mark said, glad that his voice was cold and dispassionate. “It's that…Sophie Jones is a good exec, and her Mom is a good chemist. There should be a place for them at Trimera. We hire people all the time.”

“Yeah, but not people we've slept with.”

Mark winced at Simone's words, feeling the blood chill in his veins. He glanced at her; she was glaring at him. “This isn't—”

“Listen, I already told you I have a tee time set up,” Roger said, “so I'll make this brief. No, we cannot save your girlfriend. No, we cannot save her mom. We won, they lost. You all need to deal with it.” Roger stood up, gesturing to the door. “You know, Mark, talks like this really don't encourage me. I thought that you had gained more business sense than that. But this only convinces me that you're still using your body more than your head.”

Mark grimaced, feeling rage bubble through him. He nodded curtly and left, Simone following him all the way to his office. She shut the door behind them, then lashed out at him.
“Are you crazy?”

“I guess I am,” he spat back, feeling humiliated.

“You stuck your neck out for some rinky-dink competitor that you've been sleeping with,” Simone growled. “I thought I taught you better than this. People have been telling me you're some pretty-boy model, that you've been coasting along on my coattails. But I stood up for you because I thought you had the killer instinct, and that you had a brain in that gorgeous head of yours. And now, this is the thanks I get?”

“So sorry, Simone,” he said sharply. “I didn't realize how much I was going to injure
you
in this whole deal.”

She let out a long exhalation. “You fell in love with her, didn't you?”

He clenched his jaw, refusing to answer.

“Well, that's just peachy,” she said sarcastically. “Good luck getting taken seriously now, sport. And I wouldn't bank on that promotion, either.”

Mark felt his gut knot into a cold ball of stress. “Why not?”

“Because you blew it,” Simone said. “Frankly, you were always a dark horse for it, but we all thought that maybe you were finally showing some progress. Now, I think you're right back to square one.”

“I showed that I knew my stuff,” Mark said. “We wouldn't even have the account if you'd left Carol on it all by herself.”

“That might be the case,” Simone said, returning to her usual icy-calm demeanor. “But that was then. Carol could easily run the new account, now that you've landed it for us.”

Mark gaped. After everything he'd done…all that work…all the problems with Sophie, they were going to simply hang him out to dry?

“It doesn't have to happen this way,” Simone said. “But seriously, given the same opportunity, do you truly think your girlfriend over at Diva Nation would turn her back on landing the account? It's huge. It would make or break them.” Simone shook her head. “It's not personal. It's just business, Mark.”

“I don't believe that,” he said staunchly. Sophie had already given up too much, made too many sacrifices because of how she felt about him. And he knew how she felt about big corporations.

“You don't have to,” Simone said. “But mark my words, when it comes down to it, you'd be surprised what people will do when it comes to business.”

He watched, depressed, as she walked out. He picked up his phone to call Sophie—needing to hear her voice, and feel a bit better about the situation. He stopped himself before he could hit Send, though. He hadn't told her about what he'd been planning to do. Unfortunately, it had been the only solution to their problem that he could think of. Their business would still fail. Her mother's retirement would still be in jeopardy. They'd still be living on opposite coasts. And if it became widely known that they were involved, he got the feeling that Roger would probably make him pay for it, one way or another.

Somehow, he'd managed to make the situation even worse for himself.

He dialed her anyway. “Mark,” she said, and he felt a little of the tension ebb away.

“I wanted to hear your voice,” he replied.

“You sound sad,” she said. “Not going well, huh?”

“You could say that.”
You could also say that things are a flaming, complete and utter disaster.

“Don't worry,” Sophie said, obviously trying to reassure him.

“Well, keep your chin up,” he told her, more to buck himself up than her. “No matter what happens on the business side, we'll still have each other, right?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “I love you,” she murmured.

He felt warmth blossom in his chest. “I love you, too,” he said. “I'll call you tonight.”

He hung up, then stared at the phone for a long minute. She wouldn't screw him over, he thought.

But his own company, he realized…now, that was a different story. They didn't think he could make it. They didn't believe in him.

Maybe,
he mused,
I need to think outside the box on this one
.

He mulled it over, then picked up the phone. “I'd like to speak to Mrs. Abigail Marion, please. Tell her it's Mark McMann from Trimera.”

There was a click as he was transferred. Then he heard Mrs. Marion's smooth voice.

“Mark,” she said, almost gleeful. “I've been expecting to hear from you.”

“I
T
'
S GOOD TO SEE YOU
, M
ARK
,” Mrs. Marion said warmly, gesturing him into her office. “It was a very difficult decision, I don't mind telling you. Still, I'm sure that with the package Trimera is offering, I wouldn't find better anywhere in the marketplace.”

Mark sat across from Mrs. Marion's broad teak desk, frowning slightly. He'd been racking his brain for the past twenty-four hours, getting almost no sleep in the process.

This is all because you got involved with Sophie Jones.
Ever since he'd decided to give Sophie a ride, his life had changed irrevocably. Now, he was on the brink of the biggest coup of his career…and he was about to jeopardize all of it, for her.

You can do this.

He cleared his throat. “Trimera did offer amazing terms,” he said. “You know, we never would have been able to offer you that many perks and benefits if it weren't for such a large account. And of course, Trimera's a multimillion-dollar company.”

Her smile was puzzled. “Mark, I already said yes to Trimera. You can stop selling.”

“The thing is…the products won't be as good as Diva Nation's.”

Her eyes widened at his admission. “Yes. That was a consideration,” she said carefully. “But you assured me you could make similar products.”

“Knock-offs are always inferior to the original,” he said, even as a part of him wondered just what Simone and Roger would say if they knew what he was up to. “And Diva Nation is definitely onto something, with their palette, their cosmetic ingredients…”

He let the sentence peter off as Mrs. Marion held a hand up, halting him.

“Mark, what exactly are you trying to do here?” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were shrewd. “Because if I didn't know better, I'd swear you're trying to get rid of our business.”

“No, not at all,” Mark said hastily. This was where it got tricky. “Trimera definitely wants your business, and you won't be able to get a better deal anywhere, as you said.”

“So why do you keep bringing up Diva Nation?”

“Because it's not their fault that they couldn't compete,” he said candidly. His business-school teachers would be wincing over his negotiation style. Hell, part of him felt like dying inside, for taking this blatantly honest approach, but it was a chance he was going to have to take. “They had the superior product. And you won't find anything on the market that rivals it. If they got some patents in place, you'd have a lock on the market with things like their lip gloss.”

“Again, it wasn't about the product, it was about the deal.” Now Mrs. Marion sounded annoyed, a bad sign. “I don't like wasting my time, Mark. I thought you'd know that by now. What do you want me to do?”

Mark took a deep breath. He felt as he had years ago, the first time he'd ever leaped off a high dive. And back then, he'd belly flopped nearly knocking himself unconscious.

Here's hoping this goes better.

“I think I've come up with a way to give the business to both Trimera and Diva Nation.”

Mrs. Marion's expression, usually so carefully schooled, now betrayed open shock. “How in the world do you think you'll manage that?” She laughed. “I don't know that you understand the point of an open competition for business, Mark!”

“First, if I could come up with a solution,” Mark said doggedly, ignoring her obvious mocking, “would it be something you would be interested in? Something Marion & Co. would support?”

“Are you kidding? Those fabulous products, with the Trimera financial perks?” She was all but drooling over the possibility. Her grin was avaricious. “I would be more than interested, Mark. But I don't see how you'd pull it off.”

Mark slowly outlined what he had in mind, and he saw the light of surprise turn to admiration in her eyes. “It won't be easy for me to convince my team,” Mark finished, “but I think that it's the best solution for everyone.”

Mrs. Marion smiled slowly. “What you're proposing goes far beyond a simple salesman's job,” she said. “You're pulling off a big corporate deal, here. Does Trimera know what they have in you?”

Mark couldn't help it. He grinned. “I sure hope so.”

“Although I will say, I wondered if your relationship with Sophie Jones would affect your business sense,” she added, knocking his pride down dramatically. “If your company knows about your association with her…well, I imagine they wouldn't take it quite so favorably.”

Mark set his jaw. He hadn't intended on discussing Sophie, or his relationship with her personally. “I suppose you've heard the rumors,” he said, wondering how exactly to address it even as he resented the fact he was addressing it at all.

“Heard them?” Mrs. Marion laughed. “Dear boy, I started them.”