“You already said that on the phone, and there’s no need for formalities. You can drop the whole Mr. Manning thing too. We don’t stand on ceremony here. We call everyone by their first names, and I try my best to know everyone who works in this building.”
“That’s a pretty tall order.”
“It is, but it’s important to me.”
“Am I allowed to ask why?”
“You can ask. Not sure I’ll answer.” He stands and walks to the window, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. Silence fills the space between us, but it’s not the uncomfortable kind. I wait him out, studying his form while he gathers his thoughts. His broad shoulders fill his white dress shirt in a drool-worthy manner, the material clinging possessively to his muscular biceps and arms. My gaze roams lower over a toned butt I’d love to sink my teeth into and muscular thighs I imagine digging my nails into as he rails me from on top.
Drew Manning is sex on legs, and I bet he knows how to use that muscle between his thighs to drive a woman insane. I’d say a night with him is something no woman ever forgets.
“I’m not sure how much you know of our history,” he says, talking to my reflection in the glass. “But Manning Motors has been in my family a long time.”
I am more than aware of that fact. I have absorbed every scrap of intel I could find on this company while I was biding my time.
“I never got to know my grandfather, but he’s somewhat of a legend around here. He was known for his appreciation of the people who worked for the company.” He turns around, propping his butt on the side of his desk as he talks to me, and he has my full attention. “He was a man of the people, and everyone loved him. I firmly believe a huge reason for the success of the company at that time derived from that fact. He valued every employee. Gave them his time and his attention. Ensured they were well paid and well taken care of. Employees stayed long-term, and people vied to work here because of the great working environment.”
“That’s quite the legacy.”
“It is. Unlike the one my own father left.” His face turns dark, and I’m guessing everything I have learned about Michael Hearst is true.
“My father wasn’t a good man, and he almost single-handedly destroyed my grandfather’s legacy. The company I inherited was a shadow of what you see today. It has taken years to try to turn it around, and the work is far from over. I do my best to adhere to my grandfather’s legacy. To be the kind of leader he would be proud of. I owe it to our employees to drive this business forward, to continue pushing to be market leaders, to grow our profit base so I can reward the people who helped to make it happen.”
“That’s very commendable, and your passion for the business is clear. You’re a good man, and they are lucky to have you at the helm.” I throw the bait out on purpose.
His lips curve at one corner. “If you knew me, you’d realize the irony, and trust me when I say I’m not a good man.”
I tip my head to one side. “Why would you say that?”
His eyes bore into me as he slides back into his seat. “I have my reasons,” he says, pulling his shields back up.
“And you’re not going to elaborate.”
“I want you to understand we’re family at Manning Motors, and I protect my family. If anyone fucks with it, I fuck with them right back.”
It’s a blatant threat, and I wonder what is driving his suspicion. Is it my connection to Belinda or something else? He was pretty hostile on Friday night. “Message received, Drew, though I’m unclear why you felt the need to make it.”
“This rebranding is important as are the reasons behind it. I want our customers to feel like family too, and that family element needs to be incorporated in the new brand.”
Great deflection, Mr. Manning. He really should consider going into politics. “I’ve already got some strong ideas I think will work.” I had a month to work on this project, and I’m well ahead of the game. Not that anyone here will know it. Having work done in advance ensures I can duck out at times when I need to follow our illustrious CEO to uncover the double life he’s leading.
“Impress me, Athena. Don’t make me regret this.”
* * *
I work late Monday night so I can explore the building without looking over my shoulder. Of course, there are security cameras everywhere, so I can’t go crazy, but I memorize noteworthy things like the area on the top floor where the IT department is housed and the security room. I made a point of bringing coffee to Hilary, Drew’s PA, and I intend to strike up a friendship. I want to get a hold of Drew’s schedule, and it’ll be easier to crack into her PC instead of having to break into the IT system. I’m also hoping she has keys to his office somewhere in her desk because he locks his office every time he leaves, and that makes me think there is something in there he doesn’t want anyone to find.
Drew drops by my office on Tuesday to look at the designs I mocked up, and we discuss a few tweaks with Belinda and Walter. I leave early that day, citing a personal appointment, heading straight from Manning Motors to Moonlight for my interview with Selena Kennedy. Stopping at a gas station on the way, I put my green contacts in and cover my blonde hair with my short black wig.
Manford Media is one of the US’s foremost media conglomerates, and their Luminary status came in handy. Andreas coordinated everything, ensuring my profile appeared on the newspaper website when Selena called the HQ in Lowell to verify my identity and interview request. Of course, I’m here under a fake name and wearing a disguise just in case she mentions anything to Drew.
I’m itching to know why he came here on Sunday. I tried following him, but he almost made me, and I was forced to drop the surveillance and head off in a different direction. It would be so much easier if I could bug his cell or his car, but it’s far too risky.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I say, shaking Mrs. Kennedy’s hand. “I know you’re a busy woman, and I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”
“Publicity is important, and I rarely turn down interview requests,” she says, leading me into a homey office with a plush carpet and copious plants. Bypassing the desk, she guides me to a seated area in the corner where a tray with cookies, mugs, sugar, cream, and a coffee pot awaits us on the coffee table.
“Well, I’m grateful you gave me your time. I’m new to the paper and keen to make my mark. Bringing sex traffickers to justice is something I’m passionate about.”
