who had met far too many of the illusion-is-my-middle-name kind of women, Sarah’s fresh-faced looks were refreshing. Intriguing.
Except for the fact that she’d written half the stories that lambasted him and painted him as a carousing devil—she could be the kind of woman he’d date. Still, hadn’t he learned from watching his mother’s own heartbreak that a reporter could turn on a subject in an instant, all in the quest for that immortal headline?
But, as he had crossed the room full of the writers’ cubicles, he’d realized bringing Sarah Griffin around to his side could serve him in more than one way. If he could convince her to do a story on LL Designs, maybe she’d see another side of him and of the company. And in the process, he hoped he could convince her to stop trotting his personal life through the “Seen and Heard” pages of the magazine.
What was that old saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Over the years, Sarah Griffin had definitely become an enemy of sorts. Keeping her close seemed like a good idea. Despite the trash she was in charge of penning, he had to admit—grudgingly—that she was the best writer at the publication. Whether he agreed with them or not, her stories were witty, punchy and memorable. Exactly the kind of piece he needed for LL Designs.
Then he’d seen the poster for the missing shoe.
Jackpot.
With the shoe as leverage, he could surely get Sarah’s attention, be able to work out some kind of deal, encouraging her to be more amenable to writing a favorable-to-the-company article. Maybe convince her he wasn’t the bad boy she thought he was and see how writing an in-depth story on LL Designs’ new season could benefit them both.
Who better to understand and appreciate his launching of a shoe line than the woman who was in possession of the debut pair of Frederick Ks? At the same time, it hadn’t taken him long to realize working with her meant bringing her into the office—and risking that she would see the missing Frederick K on his desk. He could just see the headline now: Desperate Business Owner Swipes competitor’s Newest Design.
Yeah, not the kind of press Caleb was looking for.
Still, it was a chance he was willing to take. He had a feeling this could be a very beneficial arrangement for his business.
He reached up, grabbed the shoe and shoved it into one of the drawers of his desk. He would tell her he had the stiletto—but after he had a chance to explain what had happened, and make Sarah Griffin see he wasn’t as bad as her headlines painted him.
The numbers on his office clock had just flipped to 2:00 p.m. when Martha buzzed Caleb. “You have a visitor,” she said.
Caleb chuckled. Right on time. He wasn’t surprised. Sarah Griffin was probably completely freaked out about the missing stiletto. Losing something like that—particularly when the issue’s deadline was right around the corner—had to have her stomach in knots. And to lose one of the ultra-secret Frederick Ks? If her job wasn’t already on the line, it would be soon.
And that gave Caleb leverage. “Send her right in,” he said.
“Uh, it’s not a her.”
Not a her? Had Sarah Griffin sent someone else in her stead? Or had she decided he was bluffing about the shoe and just blown him off?
His door opened and a heavyset man in a bright blue suit stepped inside. He stood about six feet tall and half that in width, with a shock of short white hair that stood out in a cloud-shaped halo around his head. Beneath the suit he wore a red-and-white striped button-down shirt, complete with a matching pocket square. There was nothing about the man that said simple, understated or pay-me-no-mind. Not his clothing, not his mannerisms and definitely not his infamous booming voice. “Hello, Caleb.”
“Frederick. How nice to see you.”
The flamboyant owner of Frederick K designs chuckled. “Don’t lie, my boy. We all know you hate my guts.” He crossed the room and stopped by one of the visitor’s chairs but didn’t sit down. Probably avoiding wrinkles in his perfectly pressed bright-blue suit.
Caleb rose, and came around to lean on the edge of his desk. “Let me guess. You’re here because you’ve realized this fashion business is just too competitive for you and you want me to buy you out.” Frederick K snorted. “That’ll be the day. Oh, no, I’m here to offer you the opposite.” He leaned in, his dark-brown gaze meeting Caleb’s. “I want to buy you out. Lock, stock and barrel.”
The offer came as a surprise to Caleb but he didn’t betray that emotion. Why would successful Frederick K want to take over struggling LL Designs? Was it merely to eliminate a little more of the competition? “I’m not for sale. And neither is this company.”
Frederick K laughed, the sound hearty, coming from somewhere deep in that expansive gut of his. “You’d rather file bankruptcy?”
“We’re fine.”
Another laugh. “My, my. You are delusional.” Frederick reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit, withdrew a sheet of paper and fluttered it onto Caleb’s desk. “My offer. Sign it, and you’re released from this—” Frederick waved a hand. “—prison of your mother’s making.”
A tide of anger rose in Caleb’s chest. Give up his mother’s company? Sell her decades of hard work to this buffoon? “I will never sell to you. I won’t sell you so much as a thread of my mother’s company.”
“I always thought you were a bad businessman, but never a fool.” Frederick K shook his head, making the white cloud dance. “And I’m so rarely wrong.”
Caleb pushed off from his desk and towered over the other man. “Get out of my office.”
“I’ll see you at the shows in a couple of weeks,” Frederick K said. “Unless of course you’re smart enough to quit while you’re behind.” He gestured again toward the slip of paper.
“I’ll be there,” Caleb said. “And LL Designs will be the one getting the buzz this year. Not Frederick K.”
“Delusional,” Frederick K muttered again, under his breath, then he walked out of Caleb’s office. Caleb was tempted to slam and lock the door behind him, but he didn’t.
The man had been right. He’d taken the pulse of LL Designs, and found it weakening by the day. A smart businessman would have taken the offer of a buyout, pocketed the cash and walked away. Then this entire burden would be on someone else’s shoulders and he’d be free to pursue his own career again, rather than the one he’d inherited.
He could be free. Of the worries. The stresses. The too-heavy burden of being CEO.
Caleb picked up the single sheet from Frederick K, dropped into his office chair again—
And sent the paper through the shredder.
The elevator seemed to take its sweet time bringing Sarah to the top floor of the steel-and-glass building that housed LL Designs. She’d hemmed and hawed for a good ten minutes about whether or not Caleb Lewis had been serious or just looking for a way to get back at her for all the gossip columns. Either way, she couldn’t be sure without taking him up on his offer.
Offer, ha. It had been a dare, couched in friendly terms.
He
