One Night Standards (19 page)

“The
nerve!
” her mother fumed. “The absolute
gall!
”

“But Mom, it solves everything,” Sophie said, grabbing her mother's shoulder and forcing her to stop walking. “You'll be in the clear. You won't have to worry about money anymore. You'll keep the house—”

“I don't want to keep it that way,” her mother said stubbornly.

Sophie felt like shaking her. “Damn it, I'm trying to help you here,” she said. “I've done everything I can. Mark's gone above and beyond to help you. So why are you acting this way?”

Her mom's face was pensive. “I want to make sure I don't lose everything again,” she said. “If only I could figure out some way to trust them, Sophie. You've been naive before. You think that this is perfect, and it looks it. The things that look perfect are the things that always wreck you in the end.”

“So what do you want, Mom?” Sophie exploded, frustrated. “What would it take for you to trust them?”

Her mother sighed. “I don't know.”

“Come back to the table,” Sophie said.

Slowly, her mother went back with her. Roger and Simone were talking to Mark, away from the table. Mrs. Marion was muttering something to Lily, who was taking down notes on her PDA. Mrs. Marion looked up.

“Is everything all right?” she asked mildly, but her expression was fierce.

Sophie's mom glanced at the Trimera contingent. “If this is going to go through,” she said, “I'd want some assurances from you.”

Mrs. Marion frowned. “I'll see what I can do.”

“No, this would be a deal breaker,” she responded.

Mrs. Marion stood. “Come walk with me,” she said.

Sophie watched as her mother walked away with Mrs. Marion—something that Mark and his team also seemed to find disturbing. Mark sat next to Sophie. “What's going on?”

“I don't know,” Sophie said. “But I think she's going to take the deal.”

“She'd better,” Mark said. “It's the only thing I could think of—and my neck's on the line now.”

“We're all on the line,” Sophie countered, and he nodded, breathing roughly.

“You can tell your mom when I'm in charge of the account, I'll make sure she doesn't get run into the ground,” he said solemnly.

Sophie glanced over to where her mother was talking to Mrs. Marion in a low voice. “I'll try,” she said.

But even as she promised, she now had the sinking feeling that, despite the solution, her mother wasn't going to take the easy way out.

“F
OR
G
OD
'
S SAKE
, M
ARK
,” Simone said with disgust, “after the conversation we had, I thought you were smarter than this.”

Mrs. Marion had taken over, not surprisingly—and now he wasn't quite sure where the deal to purchase Diva Nation stood. Mark wasn't quite sure how he'd lost control of the situation.

He closed his eyes. No, he
did
know. He'd lost control when Sophie had entered the picture. And frankly, all hell had broken loose when her mother had decided to throw a wrench in the works.

“It should've been a straightforward deal,” Mark muttered, taking a drink of his scotch and soda. “They should've jumped at it.”

“You had the account. We didn't
need
them, damn it.” Simone had a vodka martini in front of her. It was her second. Roger was off in a corner, muttering darkly on his cell phone. “You had the road to a big promotion in your grasp, and you decided to trash the whole damned thing. What were you thinking?”

“Hey,” Mark said defensively, “buying Diva Nation is a great step for Trimera. Roger thought so. So did his boss. If they didn't, we wouldn't have moved so fast on the offer.”

Simone rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Mark, I know you have feelings for her, but I thought you had your head on straight. Now I can see that you're definitely making bad decisions because of that woman. And Roger—he's beyond angry.”

“It's my account,” Mark argued, feeling despondent. “He's pissed now, but give me a year. Once I show what I can do…”

“It won't matter,” Simone informed him. “You jeopardized the team. It looks like you were showboating and you're trying to go over Roger's head. You can't possibly be that naive, to think that Roger's just interested in your performance. He's covering his own butt.”

Mark winced. Yes, of course, he should know better. He hadn't meant to burn bridges. He'd hoped that Roger would see that this was a big step for everyone.

Apparently he'd gauged that one wrong, as well.

“You're lucky we still have the account, actually…and that Mrs. Marion likes you,” Simone said. “Otherwise, I think that Roger would have you fired by the end of the day.”

The statement sent a chill of dread over Mark. He gritted his teeth. “Well, we do still have the account, and all of this is going to work out,” he finished grimly.

Simone did not look convinced.

Roger stalked back to the table. “They're going nuts over at corporate,” he said, glaring at Mark. “You and your bright ideas. Why'd you get Mrs. Marion involved in the first place? That woman's worse than a camel trader. Whatever she's ‘negotiating' with Diva Nation, you know Trimera's going to get taken worse than it already is. We gave her everything but the kitchen sink to get her to choose us over them. And now we'll probably have to spend millions on a company that will be a pain in the ass.”

“I knew that if we approached Diva Nation separately, they might not listen,” Mark replied, even though he also felt that involving Mrs. Marion might've been a mistake. “I knew that they saw the account as the one thing that would save them. I figured bringing her in would guarantee the sale.”

“And look how well that turned out,” Roger said sarcastically. “I'm sorry we went after the damned account in the first place!”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” a woman's voice intoned.

Mark turned to see Mrs. Marion standing by their table. He winced. Roger at least looked embarrassed. Simone didn't change expression; she simply downed the rest of her martini and motioned to the waiter for a refill. Meanwhile, Sophie and her mother seemed to have left the restaurant.

Mark stared at Mrs. Marion, whose face was solemn—and he got the feeling that, whatever she was about to announce, it wasn't good.

“You can cheer up,” she said. “The deal is going through. Mrs. Jones and your CEO just settled on a price, and lawyers will be drawing up paperwork in the next few weeks.”

Mark felt his body relax, a smile crossing his face. “You're a miracle worker,” he said. He knew that Roger would still be angry, and Simone disappointed, but at least he'd gotten what he set out for. Sophie must feel even more relieved. He couldn't wait to hear what Sophie had to say.

“But there were some additional provisions,” she said. “Mrs. Jones was quite adamant about that.”

Mark blanched. He should have known. Still, it was better than nothing. “What sort of provisions?”

She shook her head. “The thing she was most afraid of was that Trimera's marketing department would try and alter the course of her company—change her products, change their packaging, what have you. She doesn't trust the management.”

“Well, we did fire her,” Mark said. “I'll do what I can to reassure her. I'm sure I can put something in writing, incorporate it in the sale paperwork…”

“You don't understand,” Mrs. Marion said. “The only way she'd sell was to ensure that they'd stay true to their original vision. She's insisting on choosing her own account manager.”

Mark felt his blood run cold. “But I'm the account manager.”

“Not anymore.” Mrs. Marion shrugged. “She's insisted on having her daughter Sophie take over that role. The sale was contingent on that issue.”

“And…Sophie's taking the job?” Mark asked.

Mrs. Marion nodded. “I'm sorry. But you were right, Mark. This deal is the best for everyone.” She paused. “Well, it was the best for my company, anyway. I'm glad you brought it up.” Another pause. “And good luck.”

With that, she turned and left.

Mark downed the rest of his drink. “Waiter,” he said, pointing to his empty glass.

Roger rubbed at his temples with his fingertips. “Well, if that's not ironic.”

“Still glad you slept with her?” Simone asked.

That was when Mark realized—Simone had been covering her own ass. As much as she'd supported him, the moment she realized he was going to be promoted to her level, she'd taken steps to ensure her own longevity.

He'd gotten screwed in more ways than one.

“So you're not going to be the account person,” Roger said slowly.

Mark waited for him to finish the statement. Roger looked at him intently, as Simone continued drinking.

“I'm fired, aren't I?” Mark finally supplied.

Roger nodded. “You'll get the official word on Monday,” he said. “And a package.”

Mark didn't hear the rest of what Roger had to say. He politely excused himself and exited the place as fast as his legs could carry him.

In one short day, trying to help the woman he loved, he'd lost the prize account, his promotion…his
job.
His future was in shambles.

He had to talk to Sophie. He had planned to meet her at her hotel later that night anyway. Change of plans. It only took him fifteen minutes to reach her door. He knocked, conflicting emotions swirling through him chaotically.

She opened the door. “I didn't know until we'd left the restaurant,” she said by way of greeting.

“I got fired,” he said, walking in. The shock still reverberated through him.

“Oh, God, I'm so sorry,” she said, hugging him. “I didn't know this was going to work out this way.”

“I did all this trying to help you,” he said. “I thought I had it all planned.”

“I can't thank you enough,” Sophie breathed, kissing his neck, his chin. “Now, my mom's retirement is secure, and her house…”

“I won't get my promotion,” he pointed out. “Hell, I don't even know where I'll get another job, Sophie!”

“I'm sorry,” she repeated. Then, slowly, she offered, “I could get you a job in the department. I mean, I am account manager.”

He stared at her. “You
took my job,
Sophie.”

Sophie blushed. “It was the only way my mom would sell,” she said slowly. “I'm sorry, but…Mark, I couldn't do that to her again.”

He closed his eyes. “And that's it, huh?”

“You felt that way when you won the account,” she pleaded. “I was out of a job, and I still wanted to be with you….”

“I put everything on the line to help you!”

Her eyes were wide and rimmed with tears. “I can't jeopardize her again,” Sophie said. “The best I can do is get you a job working for me. You'll still have a career….”

“When everybody knows we slept together?” he asked, feeling despair wash over him. “Sophie, I've spent my whole life trying to prove I got where I am because of my own merits. Not because of my face. Not because I slept my way to the top!” He felt like hurling something against the wall. “So now I've got nothing!”

“I don't know how to help you,” Sophie said.

“I don't know how, either,” Mark said.

“Where does that leave us?” Sophie said as he turned and headed for the door.

Mark paused. He still wanted Sophie. But wanting her had gotten him here, in this position. Nothing had been clear or right since then.

“I need to figure things out,” Mark said. “When I do…I'll get in contact with you. Okay?”

“And that's it?” Sophie said.

“For now,” Mark said. “Yeah. That's it.”

Sophie nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “And if you don't figure things out?” she whispered. “Or…you figure out that we were a mistake?”

Mark didn't know what to say. So he didn't say anything. Instead, he left.

“Y
OU
'
VE BEEN AWFULLY QUIET
.”

Mark was watching the sun set from his parents' porch in Knoxville. He turned to look at his brother Jeff, standing framed in the front doorway. “Just relaxing.”

“It's been great to have you down,” Jeff said. “The kids love visiting with Uncle Mark.”

Mark felt a stab of guilt. “I'm sorry I haven't gotten down here more often, Jeff.”

“We know how important your job was to you,” Jeff said, compounding the problem. “And I'm really sorry about what happened.”

Mark nodded. Of course, he hadn't gone into the full, ugly details of what had happened. They knew that he'd lost his job, but to their credit, they hadn't pried. His family had welcomed him as always, with open arms.

After his troubles with Trimera, it was a reassuring balm. If only his troubles with Sophie could be soothed away as easily.

Jeff sat down on the other bench, looking at him intently. “So what will you do next?”

“I'm not sure.” Mark picked up his glass of iced tea. “Get another job, obviously.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “Keeping that fancy place in New York can't be cheap.”

Mark grimaced. “Don't put it that way. You and Margo and the kids have a great house, you know.”

“I'm not judging,” Jeff replied. “And yes, we do have a great house. I earn a good living. But…” He let the sentence peter off, frowning.

Mark glanced at him. “Just spit it out.”

“Mom and Dad won't bring it up, they're just glad to see you,” Jeff said thoughtfully. “But they're thinking it, all the same.”

“Thinking
what?
”

“Ever since you were a model, things went a little screwy for you.”

Mark groaned. “Jeez, we're going to go
that
far back? I know nobody liked the idea of me modeling. I know a lot of people around here thought that it wasn't a man's job. And then getting a job with a cosmetics company…”

“Mom and Dad didn't give a damn about that, and you know it,” Jeff scoffed. “It was when you started making a lot of money. People were treating you differently. You went to New York, and you lost your head. Suddenly you had something to prove. You were successful as a model because of your looks, so suddenly you had to show everybody how smart you are. You were successful as a salesman because you're friendly, and suddenly you've got to show everybody that you can be a cutthroat businessman, just like anybody else.” Jeff shook his head. “Honestly, you've been the biggest jackass for the past few years, but you haven't been around enough for me to get the chance to tell you so. So now I am.”

Mark stared at his brother, shocked. “I thought you were proud of how I was doing at my job!”

Jeff laughed. “Damn, Mark, we all knew you were smart before you left. The fact that people thought you were just a pretty boy was funny. But you seemed to buy into it. It's like you forgot how smart you were.”

Mark stood up and started pacing, feeling embarrassment start to course through him.