Want You Back Read online

  After a solid period of work, we’d ironed out the kinks in his presentation. His hands fluttered to the computer mouse near me to shut a document and our fingers touched. He immediately jerked them back, apologizing.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to — to—”

  “It’s fine,” I said immediately. “It was an accident.”

  Had I wanted it to be an accident? I wasn’t sure.

  “All right,” I continued, standing up from the long table and turning to face the rest of the room, who were chatting, practicing presentations, et cetera. To them, I announced, “I think you’re all ready.”

  “Really?” Tom asked.

  “Are you sure?” Joe rejoined, fidgeting like a toddler.

  “As ready as we’ll ever be. Make the call. Quiet, everyone.”

  The men nodded and I crossed the room to stand by their side as Joe pulled out his phone and pressed a contact. He turned it on speaker, and we waited for three long rings. At last, someone picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Charles! Hey, hey there, it’s Joe Piller, of Pillers, wanted to say—”

  “Why are you calling me?”

  This set Joe back on his heels, so I hopped in. “Charles, it’s also Sierra. Of Pillers.”

  Now Charles paused, before chuckling, “Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again. Certainly didn’t think you’d be calling yourself ‘of Pillers.’”

  “Things change,” I said breezily. “And things have definitely changed for the better around these parts. Like, for instance, we’ve strengthened our pitch, and we’d like a second chance.”

  He snickered, “I’m charmed by your moxie, kiddo. You’ve got real balls.” The laugh dissipated and he continued, “But I only give out one chance. And you blew it.” The laugh returned. “Or is that turn of phrase perhaps a little too apt?”

  The blood rushed to my cheeks. This guy really was a prick. In another universe, I’d be calling a magazine to report him for odious behavior, exposing his misdeeds to the country. As it was… I needed the job. And, unfortunately, shit heads like him have all the money.

  While I couldn’t call him all the four-letter words that sprang readily to mind, I could eviscerate his business plans. Men like that respond to one thing, and one thing only, and that’s cold hard cash. I had to reason with Charles not in emotional terms, but in financial terms.

  Joe was about to speak, but I shook my head quickly.

  He nodded, and louder, into the receiver, I began to pontificate. “Listen, Charles,” I said, imagining myself pulling on some suspenders and chewing a cigar like an old money tycoon. “Our pitch was shit. You know that, I know that. But the pitch isn’t what you came for, right? You don’t care about whether or not our fonts were appealing or our graphs color-coded. You care about the bottom line. And the bottom line is that we’re not in the business of selling products — we’re builders, not salespeople.

  “And let me get real with you. I’ve seen your timeline for building, know it like the back of my hand. You need this baby up within the year. I know you’ve already pre-sold units to certain people, made some promises. I don’t know what happens if your contracts fall through, but I know it can’t be good. Am I right?”

  Silence. So I continued, “Thought so. You don’t have the time to find another building company based in Florida. In fact, I’d venture to guess you’ve already spoken with most of them, and drawn the conclusion that Pillers is the best, because, well, we are. If you drop us now, you’ll waste time finding another company, and you’ll end up having to settle for one of our competitors, who for all your trouble, probably still won’t finish the job on time.”

  I cut myself off before I could add ‘you lousy prick,’ and waited tensely with everyone else for Charles’ reply.

  At last, it came.

  “Fine. You get one more chance. Can you be at the mansion in half an hour?”

  The room broke into mute celebrations of joy — hugging, jumping up and down, fist pumping. I almost wished he could hear them rejoicing, could know how much this meant to all of us. But of course, this was supposed to be a private conversation. Oops!

  “Yes,” I managed to say through a wide grin. “We can.”

  “All right. Don’t fuck this up again.”

  Charles clicked off, and we all let loose the shrieks of excitement we’d been stifling.

  “Sierra, that was amazing!” someone called.

  “You’re a damn hero!” another chimed in.

  “You’ve saved the company!” exclaimed a third.

  I clasped hands with Joe and Tom, then wrapped Amy in a gigantic hug, whispering, “Thank you.”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  And then suddenly I was right next to Jacob, whose face was nearly sparkling with joy, giving off kilowatts of happiness. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, and I could see relief in his brow.

  I wanted to reach out and kiss him, to entwine his fingers with mine and revel in the success.

  But I couldn’t.

  Hesitantly, he swallowed and said, “That was incredible. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “It was nothing,” I replied, blowing off his words for fear that I would get too enraptured by the emotion within them.

  “No, it wasn’t,” he negated, shaking his head. “You saved my company. You saved my father.”

  I blushed, but forced myself to accept the compliment. “Thank you, Jacob.” But of course, I couldn’t let him get his hopes too high — we needed to be realistic. “Remember that this is just a pitch. There’s every chance we could give it a second go and he could say no. Given everything that’s happened this weekend, he might decide we’re a bigger risk than we’re worth, and that another company might deliver late but be less of an internal wreck.”

  Jacob leaned forward, and murmured, “Don’t downplay your victory.” His hand reached out as if to brush a strand of hair off my forehead, but he paused mid-movement, his fingers dangling in the air. With clear effort, he pulled the hand back, and tucked it into his pocket.

  “Sorry,” he said suddenly.

  He swiveled on his heel and strode towards his team, who he greeted with a whoop of excitement. They all slapped their hands on his back, calling him ‘good ol’ boy’ and ‘champ.’

  Despite my monumental — and frankly, unexpected — success, my heart felt empty. I wanted what I couldn’t have — Jacob. I was right back to where I’d begun, angry and hurt and still dreaming of his touch. How could I break this apparent cycle of love and loss? What would it to let him go? And, at the very core of it all, did I want him to go? If I watched him walk away this weekend and he flew back to Tampa, would we ever see each other again?

  My heart raced with questions and yearning, but my mind knew that there was a job to be done.

  I had to go save this company.

  Chapter 26

  Sierra

  WE LOADED up into a flock of taxis, with instructions to each driver to put the pedal to the metal. We made it to the mansion just under the wire, with a minute to spare.

  It felt strange to be back in this gaudy, gorgeous place, where in so little time I’d experienced such a range of emotions. I felt that part of my spirit had been strewn beneath the gravel rocks, my soul sewn into the sixteenth-century tapestries.

  As we walked towards the front door, a company united, I noticed how unfazed Jacob was by the lavish surrounding. In fact, for a poor country boy, he fit right in. Jacob was a man for every landscape and nothing could daunt him. Except for, perhaps, me.

  Charles was waiting at the front door in a white tracksuit with yellow stripes down the side. He looked like the Miami version of an Italian mafioso. Or was that Scarface? Never mind, it’s a question for another time.

  “Come on in,” he said, swinging the door open further. “The room’s all set up.”

  He didn’t even stick around to formally greet us, just turned on the heel of his yellow Gucci slides
and strode inside. We scrambled to keep up with his fast pace, racing behind him like a flock of anxious pigeons.

  Before long, we were back in the boardroom, the one I’d never quite made it to. I took it in for a moment — nice, clean, professional. Certainly a far cry from the rest of the house. Yes, I’d do just fine in here. No distractions.

  “All right,” he continued, plopping into a large swivel chair. “Start.”

  I shot back, “We need a second to—”

  “You have five minute to set up your equipment. Go.”

  I shelved my seething anger at him as something to analyzed and dissected later. Right now, I was on the clock.

  My hands and mind raced as I pulled all our documents together, hooked up cables, powered on pointers. It was a sprint of desperation. Normally, this kind of task would take at least ten minutes. I had five.

  And still, I managed to nail it.

  When Charles called, “Time,” in a voice of sick satisfaction suggesting he thought I’d completely flummoxed the whole thing, I replied:

  “I’m finished.”

  His cheek muscle twitched with rage or possibly a smile, but that only made me smile more broadly. Good. Let him repress himself.

  “May I begin?” I asked him.

  He leaned back in the chair. “Fine. Keep in mind, my time is valuable.”

  My time is valuable. Yeah, everyone’s time is valuable. You’re not special! But of course, I kept my thoughts to myself, and proceeded to begin the pitch. At last, months of my hard work were coming to fruition. More than my anger at Charles, or my confusing mix of emotions towards Jacob, I felt excitement at the chance just to show off my own prowess. What? Sometimes a girl needs to be a little selfish.

  I launched into the pitch. I won’t bore you with the details, all the technical mumbo-jumbo. You’ll just have to believe me when I say:

  I was killing it.

  It was apparent from the looks on Joe’s and Tom’s faces, those of my coworkers, and even Charles, who despite himself, was clearly impressed. I was sticking one landing after another, sliding through the presentation as smoothly as butter on a hot griddle.

  And, as much as I was trying to avoid glances in his direction, I could see that Jacob was positively beaming with pride. He smiled every time I delivered a smart line, or… well, did anything at all. He just grinned, ceaselessly and unapologetically. While I didn’t want to put so much stock in his reactions, they were a constant reassurance that, though I was essentially carrying the whole company on my back, I was doing it with aplomb. After all, he had arguably more at stake here than anyone else. If there was one person in the room who’d give me an honest reaction, it was him.

  Soon enough, I stood to the side and my colleagues began to take the stage, as it were. Each team presented smoothly, delivering exactly what I needed them to — an air of competence and a clear demonstration of their knowledge. I knew that we were the best people for the job — we just had to prove it.

  Even Jacob, who had apparently botched the pitch more than anyone else, did a good job.

  Okay, fine, that’s not generous of me. He did an incredible job. He turned on the charm, which I knew first hand he had in spades, and let it saturate the room. At one point, he directed us to look at a three-dimensional model of a frame, and I felt a rush of heat in my panties.

  Um, was I getting turned on by a business presentation? Yikes. In my defense, you’ve never seen a guy sell like this. He was confident, breezy… handsome.

  But of course, I had to remind myself that said charm was just another tool in his arsenal of deception. That’s how he’d suckered me, right? By being so effortlessly beguiling. Don’t be tricked, I instructed myself. Not again.

  Still, a stupid flicker of pride burst from my heart.

  The pitch lasted two whole hours, but everyone was so nervous, so on edge, that the time seemed to fly by. Charles hadn’t said a word the entire time, hadn’t even raised a point of interest, just watched with a largely indecipherable expression. His secretary made pages of notes, but Charles sat there, watching everything.

  When the final team sat down, I walked to the front of the room one more time and delivered closing remarks, à la the Olympics.

  “Thank you for your consideration,” I said, my gaze zeroing in on Charles. “Thank you for allowing us to pitch. We know Pillers is the right team for your job, and we hope you now know that too. Do you have questions about anything we’ve covered in the presentation?”

  He smirked and put his hands behind his head, interlacing them as he yawned, “No.”

  “Well, that’s… that’s great,” I replied. That was odd — usually, clients had questions.

  Tom piped up from a few feet away, and asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing we can answer?”

  “No,” Charles repeated. “After all, I’m not hiring you.”

  Wait.

  What?

  “I’m not hiring you,” he continued, “because I don’t hire liars. And you people are liars, as evidenced by everything you did earlier today. Sure, the pitch was good, but—”

  And before I could stop him, I saw Jacob fling his chair back, sending it flying into the wall, and get to his feet.

  “The pitch was phenomenal,” he shouted, channeling all the emotion I wished I was brave enough to scream. “Sierra did an excellent job.” He gave me a slight, nearly imperceptible nod.

  “Jacob—” I began, trying to cut him off.

  “Let me finish, Sierra.” To Charles, he cried, “She just gave the pitch of a damn lifetime, and for what? For your fucking amusement? That’s why everyone hates fat cats like you — because you see us as pawns, as playthings. She has laid her heart out on the table, we all have, to appease you, to curry your favor. And you never had any intention of repaying that sacrifice. Do you know how hard we’ve worked to be here, how hard Sierra has worked to be here? That woman could be anywhere she wants to be, at any Fortune 500 company, and you get the honor of having her in this room, tonight. And you’ve wasted it on being petty.”

  Charles snorted. “That’s pretty dramatic language, son, especially in defense of a girl who so clearly hates you.” He swiveled his chair to face me. “Isn’t that right?”

  I opened my mouth, hoping and not believing that words would come out, but Jacob jumped in.

  “She’s not a girl,” he spat out, his expression dangerous. “So watch your language.”

  He moved towards Charles, pacing like a panther. Oh God, what was he going to do? The world was closing in around me. I could see only Jacob, moving forward, graceful as a dancer and strong as a warrior. I wanted to stop him, tell him not to throw his career away as well, that at least one of us should come out of this okay. I realized that my anger was beginning to thaw, that I no longer wished revenge. What had changed?

  Jacob was mere feet from Charles, and he paused, his shoulders tensed. No — coiled. “I don’t care if she hates me,” he admitted. “Because I love her. And I won’t let you treat her like this.”

  Was this happening? I would’ve pinched myself to be sure, but suddenly, I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I was frozen to the spot, listening to Jacob declare his love.

  Much to my surprise, he continued. “She won’t speak to me, and she shouldn’t have to. I… I ruined everything. Again. I let my trust issues and petty concerns get in the way of pursuing happiness. And I think I’ve finally learned my lesson — the hard way. But Sierra shouldn’t have to pay the price because I was immature and selfish.”

  At that, he turned to me and put his hand over his heart. I wondered absently if it was beating as fast as my own, beating so hard it could very well just throb out of my chest.

  “Sierra.”

  I swallowed. Was that a question? Just in case, I replied, “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry. You don’t have to take me back or anything, but you deserve to hear it. And I’ll say it as many times as you want, simply to make amends, no strings attached. Yo
u’re incredible. You oughta get a guy who knows that and holds on to it.”

  Jacob’s shoulders sagged as he said those final words. His face was a mirror of my own only a night ago — complete and utter heartbreak.

  People make mistakes. Hell, I’ve made plenty of them. But Jacob wasn’t a mistake. He was flawed, yeah, but we’re all flawed. And he wanted to be better, that much was clear. Every day, he seemed to wake up with the drive to be someone different, stronger than he was before. He tried, even when trying seemed fruitless.

  What more could I want in a partner?

  Leave history aside when possible. Burn the past, if you can. If a man shows you he can grow, and acknowledge his fuck-ups, and treat you with respect whatever your decision may be… keep him.

  “Do you really love me?” I murmured, no longer caring that we were in front of the entire company. Let them see — this was a show worth watching.

  He nodded, and this time, he met my gaze and held it steadily. His eyes pulled me in like the lifesaver that night he’d saved me. They held me afloat, kept my head above choppy waters. They were my lifesaver and my lighthouse.

  Before I could reply, he added hastily, in low tones, “But that doesn’t matter. If you don’t want it to matter, of course.”

  “It matters,” I whispered. “Because… because… because I’m in love with you, too.”

  His eyes went wide, letting the light catch the golden streaks. Around us, company members sucked in their breaths, holding them in anticipation.

  “Really, Sierra? After everything I’ve done, after—”

  I held up a hand to stop him. “I love you.”

  Jacob glanced back at Charles, and then to my surprise, laughed. “Screw this,” he said, then walked towards me, deliberate and slow. Once he reached my side, he took my hand and squeezed it. I felt blood rush to the limb, breaking me free of my numbing shell.

  “I stand with Sierra,” he cried out to the room. “And you, Charles? You can go to hell.”

  The billionaire raised a single eyebrow, and then apropos of nothing, rose to his feet and began to clap.