“Are you always this fun at thirty-thousand feet?” she asks.
“Are you always this pushy?”
She stretches out long legs in the center aisle. “Only when it feels like I’m on a hostage transport.”
“You’re flying to Italy on a private jet,” I tell her. “And as far as I recall,yousent me the email with your proposal.”
It would have been a lot easier if it wasn’t her, I think.
If it was anyone else. Someone who didn’t have this clawing need to argue about every single thing. Someone who didn’t have teeth and blood-red claws and distractingly long blonde hair.
“I’d like to talk about Mather & Wilde,” she says.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“What we’re going to do. How we’re going to get it back on its feet.” She reaches into her bag. A Mather & Wilde bag, I notice. The material is made from old boat sails, true to its New England identity. The clasp has a tiny anchor charm, a logo that the company underutilizes.
“You came prepared,” I say.
She pulls out her laptop. “Of course I did.”
“Not the computer. The bag. And let me guess…” I reach down and tap her bare ankle, stretched out in the aisle. “Those boat shoes are also Mather & Wilde. You wore your two most iconic products to the flight today to make a point.”
“Consider it armor,” she says. “Let’s get started.”
“Talking about your company wasn’t on my list of things to do on this flight.”
“I have ideas.” She opens her laptop. “I’ve been waitingyearsfor my uncle to step down. I have thoughts?—”
“You’ve been biding your time, then, haven’t you?” It’s hard to hide the distaste in my voice. “Waiting for the right moment to wrest control away.”
Her gaze flicks to mine. “I was promisedinputin this deal. Yes, I understand that you’re going to appoint an acting CEO of your choice instead of my uncle, but I’m still the deputy director of PR.”
She talks as if she’s won.
But I’ve negotiated billion-euro deals in multiple languages. Dissolved age-old boards, rewritten the bones of legacy brands, and ensured the stability and growth of some of Europe’s oldest brands. There are a thousand things I have to do before Mather & Wilde’s prospects hits my desk.
“I’m aware. The ink isn’t dry yet, Wilde. My team has just started to review the company details you’vejustsent over.”
Her red nails tap against the table between us.
And they don’t stop.
I look up from my laptop to find her staring at me. There’s that gleam in her eye like she had yesterday, standing in front of the officiant, like she hates my guts and wants me to know it.
I do know it.
And it doesn’t bother me.
“I wasn’t about to do it before we’d officially married,” she says.
“Clearly not, no.” I look back down at my laptop. There is always work to do, and it’s a much better use of my time than losing myself in pointless, distracting arguments with my new wife. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I have better things to do.”
CHAPTER 4
PAIGE
We land in Milan.
