She was a single mother with a demanding career; she certainly would not expect a man to understand and try to compete for her time. Which at best was quite limited. She had to entertain at least twice a week and travelled a lot. At first, she had been loath to go away and leave her daughter but had come to terms with it. Zoe's grandparents adored her, not to mention Grams Valerie and her own uncle Andre.
She lived at home by choice. She and Zoe had their own suite complete with a kitchenette in case they did not want to go downstairs for a meal. All in all, it was a very good set up. It did not matter that she hadn't had a date in six months. Shewas contented. She had her daughter and her career and was fulfilled.
While there were moments of doubt and loneliness, Abigail found solace in the vibrant life she had built for herself and Zoe. She cherished their quiet mornings together and the laughter that filled their evenings, knowing that these simple joys outweighed the sacrifices she had made along the way. Her resilience and determination were evident to those around her, inspiring confidence and admiration among her peers.
Her best friend, Jillian, was a doctor and was away presently doing a stint at some third world country. She was also Zoe's godmother and had been in love with Andre since the first time she saw him. Unfortunately, her block headed brother only saw Jillian as his sister's friend. The idiot. Shaking her head, Abigail was about to reach for the phone to check on her friend, when Gloria pushed the door open and came in with an armload of files.
"The latest inventory reports. Your parents would like an emergency meeting in the conference room. And the author of that awful book is demanding to see you. The woman is not pleased with the display section. Wants her books in the middle of the main floor." Gloria shook her graying natural black hair, lips pursed. "I have no idea why on earth you decided on carrying the title. 'Give a man what he wants!' A license for the opposite sex to walk all over women. And the writing is not even that good."
Abigail merely smiled. "She's been generating a lot of interest on social media platforms. Women's lib has been raising hell and bashing her for her free speech, which in turn is making her very popular." She looked at the stack of emails she still had to go through and stifled a sigh. "But she's not going to come in and dictate the way we do things. I'll deal with her. Tell my parents I will be there in ten minutes."
With that, she left to go and do damage control.
*****
Over the next couple of weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, he was busy. When he wasn't on his computer doing charts and graphs, he was at the publishing house doing inventory, meeting with the straggling managers who had sat on their collective asses and allowed the place to go downhill. When he first went in, the respect was not there. The secretary, an overblown blonde with an impossible rack and fire truck painted red lips fawned over him, making not too subtle attempts to get him interested.
The management team was made up of all men. The few women working there were either copy editors or working in clerical positions. It was when he curtly dismissed the secretary and called an emergency board meeting that they realized he meant business.
He had a deadline to meet. The meeting with the board of directors of the company had left him feeling helpless and angry. They had all voted to get rid of the publishing house and had smiled at him with indulgence as if to say they knew he was going to give up the project and disappear again.
By the time the meeting was through, everyone on the board was sitting up and paying attention. He was going to make changes. Starting with the men who were contributing nothing and reaping the large salaries. He had spotted two women who were capable of using their brains.
He met with one first – a tired looking brunette with a bad hairstyle and an even worse attitude. Shiela Longe had been working for Black Market publishing for the past ten years and was stuck in the position of assistant editor since she arrived.
Gesturing her to a sad looking chair in front of the desk, Cade perched on the edge of it.
"You're allowed to speak freely."
She eyed him out of suspicious light green eyes. "Why should I trust you?" She demanded, folding her arms over her scrawny bosom. "Aside from the fact that you're a Tyrell and can get rid of me in a snap, you're also too pretty to know what the hell you'redoing." She folded her lips together as if it hit her that she was insulting the real boss. "You did say I should speak my mind."
"Some modicum of respect is called for. I have no intention of showing you disrespect and in return I expect the same courtesy." She had the grace to blush and duck her head. "I'm here to revive the place and I want to hear your ideas. From what I gathered, your talent has been underused. I need you to tell me what your ideas are, if you have any. I'm looking for ways to get this place back on its feet."
For a brief moment, something flashed across her face that looked like hope.
"Go ahead."
She shrugged fatalistically. If this was where she was about to be fired, then so be it. And he had earned her grudging respect when he put the tramp Sherry in her place. And had the managers getting nervous.
"They're competing with the traditional publishing houses."
"Are you suggesting that there's no hope? That as an independent, the place doesn't stand a chance?"
She shook her head, sending her wire framed glasses sliding down her hawk like nose. "I'm saying that there's potential. I've suggested several manuscripts in the refuse piles – several very good ones that could be invested in to become bestsellers if edited and marketed the right way and no one listens. I've learned to keep my mouth shut."
"I'm listening." He folded his arms over his chest, bringing attention to the muscles flexing in his powerful forearms. He was wearing a teal blue silk sweater and had rolled up the sleeves. Sheila felt her spinster's heart pinging in response.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she went on to put across several more ideas that had him staring at her in interest.
"How would you like a promotion?"
Her brows shot up and hope took wings. "If it comes with a raise, I will jump at it."
"Editorial manager."
Sheila stared at him, momentarily speechless. The offer was unexpected, and for the first time in years, she felt the possibility of real change within reach. After a long pause, she managed to make her voice steadier than before. "I accept. I won't letyou down." Cade nodded, sensing the determination behind her words and recognizing the spark of ambition that had long been overlooked.
"I'm counting on it. Type up your expectations and ideas and have it ready by the time I leave. Please send in Ms. Thompson."
