“I’ll do a walk-through,” I tell her. “Check sightlines, entries, blind spots.”
“Whatever you need.” She turns back to her computer, the soft clack of keys filling the silence. “When Stella gets home, I’ll introduce you. I plan to tell her you’ll be here a couple of weeks to get my business security team in place. Just so she’s not spooked.”
“Appreciate that.”
She smiles without looking up. “Good.”
I lift the folder. “Thanks for this.”
“Of course.”
I head for the stairs. The house is quiet except for the faint hum of the HVAC and the distant trill of a phone upstairs.
At the landing, I pause. Sunlight spills through the glass, white and still. Outside, a siren wails far away, fading fast.
I’ve assessed hundreds of situations. But as I move downstairs, one thought stays with me—we can secure the perimeter. What I’m not sure of is how to secure her.
Chapter
Three
Alicia
“If I understand you correctly, Robert”—I glance at the timer on my phone: thirty minutes; Lord, this man can talk—“You’d like for me to meet with your PR team to coach them on rehabilitating the image of oil and gas.”
“Image isn’t the word I’d choose. It’s the public perception. We’ve been under fire for decades and our lobbying team has spent so much time focused on legislation we haven’t paid enough attention to public perception and that’s?—”
“I’m going to stop you right there, Robert. I think you’ve misunderstood what I do.”
“You’re the fixer.”
“Sir, Morgan & Company manages crisis communications and public affairs for politicians, celebrities, and major organizations facing scandal. We develop strategies to protect reputations and navigate crises.”
“I know,” he drawls. “That’s why you’re perfect. All I want is for you to come in and train my people for a day. Talk with us. Consult. I know you usually work with individuals, but we’re an organization.”
I have absolutely no desire to work with the lobbying arm of oil and gas.
“Name your price.”
I close my eyes, exhale slowly. “Tell you what, Robert. Let me give it some thought. I’m not currently accepting new clients?—”
“Now we both know that’s not true. When a crisis hits, you’re there. And this is a crisis.”
“Let me think on it. Perhaps I can send someone?—”
“No, ma’am. We want you.”
Thirty-three minutes. If I end this now, I can still save the hour.
“Thank you for the call, Robert. I don’t believe we’re the best fit. I wish you well.”
With quiet satisfaction, I end the call.
Was that shortsighted of me?
My father’s stern voice infiltrates the silence—Business is business. If you don’t do what you need to do to get ahead, someone else will leapfrog right over you.
“Sorry, Dad,” I murmur to the empty room. “I’ve built this company from the ground up. I’ve earned the right to say no.”