Business and Pleasure Read online

  Business

  And

  Pleasure

  By: Jinni James

  Business and Pleasure

  Jinni James

  Copyright 2013 Jinni James

  Smashwords Edition

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost I have to thank my husband who supports me and puts up with me throughout this process. When I told him I wanted to write a book he told me to go for it. If I have a question he is there with the answer or at least will google it and then tell me the answer. He is my rock and I could not write my stories without him.

  I have to thank my kids, my two as well as my step daughter for keeping me in check. They keep me grounded and keep me on my toes.

  Next I have to thank all of my friends and family who stand behind me and push me to the finish line. Not only because they love me but because they also want to read my next story. There are way too many to mention one by one but please know that I love you all.

  My parents who are awesome. Their unconditional love and support keep me going.

  I would like to thank my cover artist Elaina Lee with For The Muse Design. You are amazing and I plan on using you more and more in the future.

  I have to thank a wonderful editor Jill Noble for helping me with all of this and educating me on writing.

  Last but definitely not least I have to thank all of you who read my books. I am so honored and grateful to each and every one of you and I hope you enjoy these books as much as I have enjoyed writing them.

  Thank you and love to you all!

  JJ

  Business and Pleasure

  By Jinni James

  Chapter One

  It is after midnight in beautiful Manhattan. While most people around America are sleeping at this hour, many of the residents of this fair city are only just getting started. So, it is no real surprise I have a visitor at this time of night. A visitor I don’t want my sister, who happens to be sleeping down the hall, to know about.

  I creep down the darkened hallway, tugging my “friend” toward the front door in the hopes of getting him out as quietly as possible. But the moment I open the door, my sister comes barreling through from the outside hallway. I give my friend a gentle shove to send him on his way, and then I close the front door and turn toward my lovely sister, Rebecca, who apparently could care less that she should be asleep or studying at the moment.

  “Rebecca! Why are you just now getting home? I thought you were asleep. You do realize you have finals tomorrow, right?”

  Rebecca tries to roll her eyes without my seeing, but I notice. I always notice.

  “My God, Lizzy, you are turning into Mom! Chill. I’m going to bed right now, and I’ll be fine tomorrow,” Rebecca says, and then she nods toward the closed front door and hastily changes the subject. “So, was that another one of your boy toys?”

  “Becca!”

  “Okay, okay.” She holds up her hands. “I won’t press you for answers. But Lizzy, just so you know, it is perfectly fine to have a sex life. I am not fifteen years old anymore. I can handle knowing my big sister is sexually active.”

  As Rebecca walks toward her bedroom, it hits me that she is right. She is not fifteen years old anymore. She is twenty-two and about to graduate from NYU. I could not be more proud of my little sister. I only wish Mom and Dad could be here to watch her graduate. I walk over to where their picture sits on the entryway table. One of the things I missed most after they died was seeing them when I walked through the front door. By displaying the photograph here, I can sometimes fool myself they are still around to greet me. I look at my mom, with her bright red hair and crystal blue eyes so much like mine, and then I study my dad, with his blonde hair, green eyes, and all his little wrinkles…most of which, he used to say, he’d developed thanks to me…and my heart aches.

  Almost seven years have passed since their private jet went down during a flight to L.A. for a business trip. No one survived the crash. I will never forget the day our aunt Crystal came to tell us. I was nineteen years old at the time and still living at home—planning to do so until I graduated. Crystal came in, sat both Becca and I down, and explained what happened. At first, I was in total shock, then denial, then grief, and then finally, I decided it was time to step up and take care of my sister. My parents left everything to Becca and me. We were totally and completely taken care of. Mom and Dad owned a very successful computer software business. They even helped the government with national security software. Financially, we were set for life, but emotionally, well…for one thing, we still had to make it through school without our parents. Most wealthy families hire a nanny to take care of their children, but our mother refused to allow someone else to raise us. Sure, we had babysitters now and then, but our mom was hands on. I will always be grateful for I had such wonderful parents. I set the picture back down in its place and decide it’s time to go to bed. After all, I do have work in the morning.

  *****

  I wake the next day to a beautiful and sunny Manhattan morning. The sun streams in through my floor- to-ceiling windows, which also provide an amazing view. From fifteen stories up, my bedroom overlooks Central ark. I really lucked out on this apartment. After I graduated Becca and I decided it was time to get our own place so I started looking and this apartment actually just kind of fell into our laps. We had looked at ten apartments easy and I was almost ready to give up. The apartments usually either “”’’did not have something I wanted or something Becca wanted...etc. It is difficult to please two women at the same time that is for sure. We were walking out of one showing when we ran into a couple in the lobby who happen ’to be moving. We started talking and they showed us this apartment right then and there. Becca and I fell in love with it. Who wouldn’t? It is a gorgeous apartment with three bedrooms, three bathrooms, and floor to ceiling windows in almost every room. There is a fireplace which I love in the living room as well as my room and it did’ not seem to need much work as far as tile and paint go because it was already how I liked it. The kitchen was very neutral with lots of earth tones. Dark brown tile on the floor and counters to match. My bedroom was white. I have always wanted a white bedroom but my mother always said too much white was blinding. I disagree. My walls are white, my bedding is white, and I even have a solid white chaise lounge in the window next to the fireplace. I walk into my huge walk in closet to pick out what I am going to wear today. As I look I realize I tend to favor black and gray. All my pants suits are either black or gray. I do have a few blue shirts and a couple pink ones thanks to Becca but other than that it is mostly all the same. I must shop’ more’. I pick out my gray pant suit and decide to mix it up a bit and throw on a light blue shirt under my vest. My shoes were another story. I had a ton and they were all different colors. Shoes were my weakness. I slip into my blue Manolo Blahniks, which perfectly match my shirt, and walk downstairs to check on Becca.

  I peek into her room, then open the door the whole way when I see she’s not there. Her made bed indicates she’s already gone for the day. Holy crap! I might just have a heart attack. I give one last look around her bedroom before shutting the door and heading back down the hallway, shaking my head. I still cannot believe how she decorated her room. Although, I did tell her that she could do whatever she wanted in there. Still…pink and black? Pink-painted walls. Hot pink-painted walls… Pink bedding with black accent pillows. Black carpeting with a pink rug, and a pink loveseat and chairs filled the adjacent little sitting area. I just can’t imagine how someone could go day in and day out surrounded by that much pink and black, but that is Becca.

  I walk into the living room, pick up my iPhone, and send her a quick text: Good luck on your exams! A moment later, I head out the door
.

  The wonderful thing about living and working in Manhattan is that I get to walk through Central Park every day. The fresh air and the beautiful scenery can definitely make me a morning person. I grab my coffee from the first coffee house I see and proceed to walk through the park... I love to people watch, and God knows there are plenty of characters here for me to observe. Moms pushing babies in those big, fancy strollers, getting in an early morning jog. People walking their dogs, riding their bikes, and even on horseback. The city is always so busy, but the park provides a nice setting where they can slow down, if they like, and relax. My head is full of what my day holds ahead. I have a board meeting with the directors at my parents company, Neo Corp, and then I’m off to where my heart really lays—Hamilton Publishing House. Once I graduated from college with my degree in literature, I immediately opened my own business. Reading, writing, editing—I’ve been passionate about everything associated with books since I was a child. My mother always said if you needed to find me, just find the closest bookstore. I loved how I could lose myself in a good book, step into another world and forget my problems, even if only for a little while. So, I decided I wanted to become a publisher, working with new and experienced authors alike, giving readers more books to enjoy. There was always room for one more publishing house—just like bakeries, coffee shops, and salons. I believe we can all co-exist in peace and share the success.

  As usual I am not looking forward to this meeting at Neo Corp mainly because I am the only woman out of a board full of men who all talk down to me but since I still own fifty-one percent of the company, I have to be there. I had considered selling my shares a long time ago, but I could never bring myself to go through with actually unloading them. Neo Corp belonged to my parents, and they were as passionate about their company as I am about mine. So I hung on, attending meetings as necessary, showing up when needed, but doing little else.

  The meeting was the same as usual. Sales, blah, blah, blah. Gross income, blah, blah, blah. Expand, blah, blah, blah. I pretty much just sat there and looked pretty. I am sure no one understood why I attended these things, but I thought of my attendance as a responsibility. If I owned fifty-one percent of a company, then I at least needed to show up for the meetings. Lucky for me, this particular one only lasted an hour—sometimes, they went on and on for the entire day. I bid the other board members good day and head off to Hamilton.

  Two buildings down from the publishing house office, I grab another latte. I walk into work, and the office seems involved in some kind of a silent uproar, if that makes any sense. Tension lies just beneath the atmosphere’s surface. I walk into my office and sit down, wondering what’s up. I have my computer open for two seconds when Natalie, my assistant comes in.

  “Sorry to bother you, Ms. Hamilton.”

  “It’s fine, Natalie. What’s going on?”

  Natalie sits in the chair in front of my desk and leans forward, as if she’s about to tell me a secret. “There is a rumor going around the office that another company is planning a buy out.”

  “What!” I can’t stop myself from screaming. “Nat, that’s ridiculous. I’m the owner. Would I not know if some company was going to try to buy out my company?”

  Natalie sits back in her chair, “I suppose you’re right. I guess I should know better than to listen to Bob.”

  Ah, my lovely CFO…always running his mouth. “Bob doesn’t know jack, Natalie. I own the company. If someone was attempting to buy me out, then Bob would have scheduled a meeting to talk to me about it, after which, the two of us would meet with whoever it is that has designs on my company.”

  Natalie grows pale, and for a moment, I wonder if she might get sick. “Ms. Hamilton that is the other thing I had to tell you. Bob wants a meeting with you at 1:00 p.m. today.”

  Now, I wonder if I might get felt sick to my stomach. There is no way. Why would anyone want to take over my company? Sure we’ have been doing well, really well considering I have only three years ago. Each day, we receive more manuscript submissions from authors who hope we’ll consider their stories for publication. And in fact, we’ve been doing so well; I had to hire more editors. Hmm… I suppose notion that someone might have a powerful interest in my company isn’t so far-fetched, after all, but I refuse to even consider the idea. This is my company. I started it from nothing, and I built it from the ground, up. It’s my passion, and I’m not about to let some big shot publishing house take over my baby! I look over at Natalie, who looks downright ill. No doubt, she’s sensed my rage at Bob for his failure in telling me something so important before my own employees knew of the issue.

  “Okay, Nat. Tell Bob I will meet with him at one.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As Natalie walks out the door, I cannot help but wonder who would want to buy me out, but after several moments, I realize my efforts are useless. The hopeful buyer could be any one of dozens of medium or larger-sized publishing houses, both abroad and in the States. Finally, I decide to set the entire issue aside until later, and try to get some work done.

  *****

  Despite my best intentions, I spend the rest of the morning wondering what on Earth Bob could be thinking, keeping something so astronomically essential from me. Before I know, the lunch hour has come and gone, and it’s time for our scheduled meeting. I race to Bob’s office, my heart pounding, but once I reach his door, I pause. Taking a moment to compose myself, I smooth down my hair, run my palms down the front of my slacks, and then straighten my jacket. Regardless of my irritation and intense anxiety, I must present a professional persona at all times.

  Drawing a deep breath, I twist the knob and open the office door.

  “Elizabeth.” Seated at his desk, Bob looks up as I step into the room. “Thank you for meeting with me. Have a seat.”

  I sit, but, instead of allowing him to think he is in charge and has the upper hand here, I decide a direct, ambush approach will work best. “Alright, Bob, out with it. Has someone shown an interest in buying me out? And if so, why am I apparently the last one to know?”

  Bob’s expression morphs from pleasant and easygoing to shocked discomfort before I even finish my question.

  “Seriously?” I ask him. “You had no idea the whole office is talking about this?”

  He lets out a small sigh.

  “No, I had no idea… Unfortunately, yes; there is a publishing house that has shown interest in our company. They’re very impressed with how well we’ve been doing, and they are extremely interested in buying us and acquiring our stable of authors.”

  My chest grows tight, trapping my breath in my lungs. Despite my suspicions the rumor is true, I still cannot believe someone actually wants to buy me out. Me! Sure, we might be doing well, but we’re still just a tiny little publishing house. Why would some big publishing company want our authors? Surely, they—whoever they are—are successful in their own right. Why bother with me and mine?

  “Well, Bob, I have no idea why you hid this from me, but whatever you were thinking, you were wrong. I’m not interested. And if someone tries to force me out of the industry, I will fight to the death to keep my company alive and profitable. I built this business from the ground, up. I will be damned if I’ll walk away, just to make a quick buck.”

  “I understand how you feel, Elizabeth. I do. But are you sure you’ve thought this through? This could be a good thing. Maybe we could arrange to remain on-staff, become a part of a bigger publishing house. We could reach more authors, negotiate better deals, and provide insurance to our employees. Again, this could be a good thing.”

  Was he really saying this to me? “I’m telling you now; I will not sell this company. I will fight anyone who tries to take it from me. They will have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers. So forget it, Bob. It’s not happening.”

  He holds up his hands in an obvious gesture of self-defense. “Okay, okay. I understand. But…well, there is one more thing. I set up a meeting; they are coming to see us tom
orrow at nine o’clock in the morning.”

  “What!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be so adamantly against the idea. Figured you’d at least want to discuss your options. And as I said, they are very interested.”

  Angry and frustrated, I stand up and get ready to walk out of Bob’s office, but as I reach the door I pause and turn. “Alright, we will see what these jerks have to say, and then we’ll kick them to the curb. But I’m not selling. Not now. Not ever. This company is mine.”

  I walk out without waiting for his response. With supreme effort, I manage to make it to my office without breaking down, but once there, I shut the door behind me and let loose. For the next twenty minutes or so, I bawl like a baby. Women are not supposed to show weakness in the work place. Doing so makes them look like a liability, so after my crying stint in the privacy of my office, I dust myself off and continue on with my day.

  I attempt to read one of our latest manuscript submissions, but I have lost my focus. I’m just ready to give it up and go home, when my phone starts going off, indicating I have a new text.

  Wanna meet me at Le Caire for drinks?

  Nicki’s text comes at exactly the right moment. A drink and a little down time sound perfect. I send her a quick text back, letting her know I’ll meet her there at six o’clock, which gives me plenty of time to run home, change, touch up my makeup, and make it to the lounge.