The Beautiful and the Wicked (12 page)

Liss shot him a withering look, paused, and then banged his fists on the table, causing his coffee cup to clatter in its saucer.

“We've got a call with the shareholders at noon, Jack,” he said. His voice was loud, but its tone was measured. He was trying to keep his rage under control.

“Oh, you don't need me for that,” Jack said, stretching back as if he hadn't a care in the world, which just made his CFO more angry.

“You're right, Jack.” Liss stood up and threw his napkin down on the table. Everyone else was silent, neither moving nor, it seemed, even breathing in this awkward moment. But Lila was riveted. “
I
don't need
you
for shit. The stockholders on the other hand,
your
stockholders, are under the false impression that you still have some interest in the company that affords you all these fucking luxuries that you seem so fond of.”

As Liss spoke Jack's eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed.

“I'm CEO and chairman of the goddamned board,” Jack yelled. “You can't speak to me like this in front of my guests, on
my
boat! Or are you forgetting that you work for
me
?”

“I won't be for much longer,” Liss spat as he stormed out of the room.

After a ­couple minutes of strained silence, Paul Mason was the first to speak. “Jack, I'd love to go sailing with you, buddy. We all would. But I think Liss may be right. The shareholders need to hear from you. We can postpone the sail for another time.”

Paul's gentle coaxing didn't work. Jack wasn't going to budge. “And let Liss think he can throw a tantrum and get his way? No fucking chance. And don't you go siding with him. Show some fucking loyalty,” Jack said, pointing his finger in Paul's face. “I've saved
your
ass more times than I can count. Plus, I can't think of anything worse than spending this beautiful day talking to a bunch of hysterical shareholders. It's like I'm supposed to treat every dip in the stock price like the goddamn sky is falling. I just can't do it anymore. No more groveling. No more hand-­holding. It isn't worth it.”

“Yeah,” Josie snorted. “Like you've got anything to complain about. You know there are, like, actual ­people out there that work just as hard as you do, but don't even have any food to eat. Like a ­couple billion of them, Dad. Do you ever think about that?” She stared at her father with a defiance that was palpably lacking in confidence. Her father returned her look with a patronizing smile.

“Please forgive my daughter, everyone. She's going through a Marxist phase at the moment.”

“Shut up, Dad.”

“The funny thing is, I'm paying sixty grand a year to a college that's turning her into a fucking socialist. That's a high price for such disloyalty, don't you think? Her mother and I are hoping it'll pass as quickly as that unfortunate Hare Krishna period she went through . . . When was that again, honey?” he asked his daughter, looking like he could barely suppress the laughter on his lips. “Though you did look adorable in those little peach robes.”

Josie's lips curled into a snarl. “You can't just . . . Don't think I care . . .” she sputtered, desperate to put her father in his place. But language failed her. Instead, she stood up and screamed, “Pig!” before rushing out of the room. Jack broke out into a rueful laugh. But his jaw was still clenched.

“Just another lovely breakfast,” he said. There was a defeated tone in his voice. He looked around at the few ­people still left at the table, but no one met his gaze. Everyone kept their eyes down, trying, and failing, to come up with something to say.

 

CHAPTER 10

W
IT
H HER FATHER
somewhere in the middle of Biscayne Bay trying out a new multimillion-­dollar toy and her mother mysteriously roaming around Miami, Josie, the only child and heiress to the great Warren fortune, decided to spend her afternoon sunbathing topless by the yacht's pool while reading Jean-­Paul Sartre's
Being and Nothingness,
probably hoping to scandalize and/or titillate anyone who was lucky enough to get a good look at her.

She was a real piece of work. But as Lila watched Josie out on the deck, her lip-­gloss-­laden lips moving slowly as she read, her smooth brow slightly furrowing above her red, heart-­shaped sunglasses as her mind attempted to penetrate the almost impenetrable text, she felt a great amount of something close to sympathy for the girl. She was spoiled rotten, self-­righ­teous, and ridiculous—­but given her parents, how could it be any other way? Could anyone in the entire world become a good, upstanding citizen with Elise and Jack Warren as their mother and father?

Lila knew that despite Josie's obvious contempt for her parents, she would crumble without them. Actually, she'd already seen it happen. After Jack's murder, it wasn't long before Josie completely disappeared from the society in which she was raised. No one knew where she'd gone. Some said she was living in Marrakech, others said she'd permanently relocated to a remote castle in Scotland where she was raising sheep, while another story circulated that she'd joined a paramilitary wing of the Church of Scientology. There were more rumors concerning her whereabouts than about the questionable sexuality of certain Hollywood superstars.

It seemed like without something to push against, Josie didn't have any way to define herself. Where her mother bloomed in the very public role of the bereaved, vengeful widow, Josie rejected any media attention. In the one interview she gave during the ten years following her father's murder, besides demanding that the reporter not disclose her location, she claimed that she'd cut all ties with her mother. Lila strongly believed that Josie's self-­imposed exile was because she knew that her mother had murdered her father.

Which was precisely why Lila was very interested in the sunbathing heiress, that sunny afternoon off the coast of Miami.

With everyone else off the boat—­except Seth Liss, who was busy with back-­to-­back conference calls—­Lila focused on getting what she could out of Josie. The heiress had to know
something
about her father's infidelities or her mother's state of mind. But befriending the twenty-­year-­old socialite-­turned-­socialist posed a challenge. It had been made abundantly clear to Lila that she was not an equal of the guests on the boat. She was their inferior, their servant, nothing more than an invisible hand that cleaned and served. She was not to have opinions, needs, or, given how few hours she was allowed to rest, a proper night's sleep. And if asked a question, she was expected to smile demurely, answer, and quickly shuffle back into her hidden corner.

But there were exceptions. Somehow Ben and Asher seemed to be exempt from this upstairs-­downstairs divide. Ben, at that very moment, was out sailing with Jack, Paul, Thiago, Esperanza, the senator and his wife, and Daniel Poe. Granted, Ben was probably the one doing the heavy lifting on the sail, but he was clearly higher in the pecking order than Lila. She'd never seen him grovel, and at Jack's party last night, he was a guest, not a server.

And then there was Asher.

His role was that of the good-­time guy on the yacht, the man responsible for making sure everyone was having fun. A deep-­sea diver, surfer, certified personal trainer, and self-­declared “dude” and “party animal,” with looks that made both young and old women swoon, Asher was the perfect man for the job. But today, out on the deck with Josie, as he blended her a steady stream of piña coladas, he seemed much more reserved than usual. As he busied himself behind the bar, he kept his eyes mostly on his work of cutting up limes and polishing the barware. Every once in a while Lila saw that he would let his eyes drift toward the mostly naked Josie stretched out before him.

And Josie was paying him no mind, though Lila could tell she was enjoying his watching her.

While the strange psychosexual drama between Asher and Josie played out, the crew moved around busily, like squirrels readying for winter. The deckhands were washing, polishing, and shining every inch of the gigantic yacht, in the constant battle between man and the corroding effects of salt water. And Lila and Sam, having finally finished cleaning the staterooms and en suite bathrooms, were stocking the pool area with freshly laundered Frette towels. When Lila bent down to remove the empty piña colada glasses sitting on Josie's copy of
Being and Nothingness,
Josie gave her a smile.

“Don't work too hard, Nina,” she said. “Your name is Nina, isn't it?”

“It's Nicky, miss.”

“Oh, that's right. I'm sorry, Nicky. You should join me here. The weather is too perfect to waste it working. I mean, look around. It's totally gorgeous. And I'm dying of boredom.”

“But you've got Asher here to keep you company.”

“Oh, him,” Josie said as she turned over on her stomach. “He's no fun at all.”

Lila looked at the two of them. They were both acting bizarrely. Maybe, it dawned on her, they were sleeping together and trying to hide it? She couldn't be sure, but something was definitely going on. As she walked away from the pool area, she ran into Sam by the stairs.

“Do you think there's anything happening between Josie and Asher?” Lila asked in a whisper.

“Happening? Like, what, are they fucking?” Sam asked.

Lila nodded.

“Definitely not,” Sam said with more assurance than Lila thought was warranted, but after all, Sam had apparently hooked up with Asher. She had her reasons to be blind to what she didn't want to see. “He's been working for the Warrens for the last five years. She's more like a kid sister to him. Why? Did you see something?”

“Not at all,” Lila said carefully. Sam was clearly jealous. “Just forget I said anything.” Happy to change the subject, she said, “Hey, I know Slaughterhouse told you to take Liss his lunch, but let me do it.”

“Are you serious?” Sam asked. “Because if you are, that would be amazing. Have you heard him today? He's been yelling on the phone like a madman. I think I may have heard furniture breaking.”

Liss's fight with Jack this morning had Lila's wheels turning. She had known there were tensions between the two, but she'd had no idea how bad it was. It was clear that Liss wanted Jack's job.

The real question was, after years of suffering Jack's derision and abuse, would Liss consider
killing
for the top spot at the company?

“I'll take him his lunch. Don't worry,” Lila said. “But if I don't make it out alive, I hope you feel bad about it for the rest of your life.”

“Highly doubtful.” Sam flashed a relieved smile.

When Lila entered the galley, she once again found a scowling Chef Vatel holding a plate out for her.

“I come from Paris to sit in some American backwater cooking chicken fingers for this fucking oaf? I don't think so.”

“Just think of the paycheck, Chef,” Lila said as she quickly grabbed the tray and walked away. One furious man per day was enough for her. “That's what the rest of us are doing.”

The moment she stepped into the hallway on the third deck, she could hear Liss. His authoritative and bullying voice was impossible to ignore. Her hands gripped the tray as she listened.

“Yes, Urs, the Q3 numbers aren't where we want them to be. That's a given. We haven't had the most robust quarter, but that's because of necessary expenses related to our sector-­wide expansion. We've still got work to do. The Justice Department needs to approve our acquisition of Peregrine Software. That'll be forthcoming. We're currently working closely with Senator Clarence Baines, who's head of the Senate Judiciary Committee overseeing this matter.”

So, that's why Clarence Baines was receiving the five-­star treatment, Lila thought. Jack entertains him on his fancy boat and introduces him to the types of ­people who write big checks for his upcoming reelection campaign. In exchange, Baines pushes the Peregrine acquisition through the Justice Department. Classic quid pro quo.

“No, we won't get nailed on it. We do things different here in America. Business and government can work together.”

Lila politely rapped on Liss's door.

“Come in,” he bellowed.

She slipped into his room, trying to be as quiet as possible, but her foot loudly crunched down on something. She had just flattened an empty can of diet chocolate fudge soda. Liss, who was back to yelling into his phone, shot her a look of death. He covered the receiver with his hand and hissed, “I'm on an important fucking call. Put the fucking tray down. And close the fucking door behind you on your way out.”

He continued talking on his phone as Lila crossed the room to deliver his lunch. “Yes, I'm with you. Jack should've been on this call. If you put up bad quarterly numbers and the CEO isn't there to reassure investors, then ­people start to buck. They put their money elsewhere. Jack knows all this, but he just doesn't goddamn
care
. And between you and me, I've fucking had it with him. I didn't sign up to be the dark cloud to some middle-­aged baby who thinks life is just an endless stream of perfect tits, drinks with Bono, and sailing his fucking boat.”

After Lila delivered the tray, she slowed down her pace, picking up dirty clothes and discarded plates in order to hear more of the conversation. Then she felt something hit her in the head. She looked down and saw a half-­eaten and heavily buttered dinner roll at her feet. Liss had thrown it at her. She looked up at him, seeing only fury in his eyes.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out,” he silently mouthed to her, careful to overenunciate each word so she understood him. Knowing her time was up, she quickly exited the room, closing the door behind her. But she lingered in the hallway, pressing her ear against the door. She needed to hear the rest of this conversation.

Liss continued, “Several board members have come to me directly, including you, Urs, to talk about the Jack situation. So, I'll be sending out an internal memo to all the members of the board that outlines my concerns with how Warren Software is being run and addresses ways in which I propose to fix these problems. It'll be in your in-­box later this afternoon. They say that different times call for different leaders, and this is one of those times. Needless to say, all of this dialogue must not include Jack.”

It sounded to Lila like Seth was trying to stage a corporate coup d'état. And he was trying to get the board of directors on his side, starting with whoever this Urs guy was. Lila knew that after Jack's death, Liss had been named interim CEO of Warren Software, and then confirmed as the permanent CEO fourteen months later. Plenty of ­people had killed for less.

Lila needed two things. First, she had to get her hands on the secret memo Liss was going to send to the board of directors. Second, she needed to find out more about Urs. She headed down to the lower level, anxious to get started on these new leads. But just as she was about to head into her room, she heard the chief stewardess call her.

“Nicky, just where in bloody hell do you think you're going?”

“I just needed to—­”

Edna cut her off. “You just needed to fetch Ms. Warren some lunch. That's what you just needed to do.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Lila said. Then she began her forced march up to the main deck to see what vegan delicacy Josie wanted for lunch. But the girl wasn't by the pool. And there was no sign of Asher either. When she asked Sam, who was busy steaming some of Elise's Dior blouses, where Josie was, she just shrugged and said, “I am not that spoiled slut's keeper,” before resuming her work.

Lila made a quick sweep of the yacht, checking the dining room, Josie's stateroom, the den, the TV room, the spa, the gym, and then headed up to the sun deck, at the very tippy top of the boat. And that's where she saw a topless Josie sitting back in the hot tub with her eyes closed, holding a large red bong.

Lila cleared her throat, but Josie didn't open her eyes. Then she said, “Ms. Warren. I'm checking if you need anything for lunch.”

Josie nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Lila's voice. She looked around nervously. She dropped the bong in the roiling water and climbed out of the tub like a guilty puppy caught eating a shoe.

Dripping wet, she wrapped a towel around herself. Her bloodshot eyes were darting around the boat as she shivered ever so slightly, despite the heat. All the way up at the top of the giant yacht, with a worried look on her face and her tiny arms pressed at her sides to keep the towel on tight, she looked a lot younger than her twenty years.

“Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Warren.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I get you anything for lunch?” Lila asked again.

“Oh, lunch?” Josie said, as if she'd never heard the word before. “Lunch. Yes! Yes, you're right. I'm actually really hungry.” She lunged at Lila and locked her in a very wet embrace. “Thank you so much. Lunch, exactly.”

“What would you like me to bring you?” Lila asked, trying to suppress a smile.

“Oh, my God. I could
never
decide. I'll, like, follow you down to the kitchen and just see what's there, okay?” the girl asked.

After they made their way to the galley, Josie prowled around peering in the refrigerators and pantries, wearing nothing but the bottom half of her skimpy string bikini. Upon seeing her, Chef Vatel fled the scene faster than you could say
“Merde!”
His sous chef, who was a lot more interested in the presence of a half-­naked heiress in the kitchen, had to be dragged out by the muttering chef, who had been around long enough to know that when trouble comes in the door, you get out as fast as possible.