Annihilate Me 2: Omnibus (Complete Vols. 1-3, Annihilate Me 2) Read online

  “God, yes. Otherwise, it will be a circus. We don’t need people on the street being a part of any of this.”

  “Do you need anything else from me?”

  I pressed the ‘up’ call button for the elevator and considered that question as the doors slid open and I stepped inside. “If you want, just think good thoughts for Alex,” I said. “I’ve tried to keep up a brave face for a lot of people, Tank, but you know me too well, and I respect you enough to be frank with you. I have a feeling that Alex is going to need a few prayers sent his way today. That we’re all going to need them. I think we can come through this, but before the sun shines on Wenn again, I also think that it’s going to get dirty first.”

  * * *

  I arrived at Wenn’s fifty-first floor and walked down the crowded, buzzing hallways to Blackwell’s office, aware of the glances that were shot in my direction and of the silence that followed in my wake.

  When I found her in her corner suite, she was standing at the wall of windows behind her desk—her hands on her hips, her black bob shining in the sunlight, her head lowered and watching the traffic on Fifth. Barbara Blackwell had become one of my great friends and mentors. She was in her early fifties, she was a creature of couture, she was recently divorced with two daughters at university, and she was among Wenn’s most powerful and influential players due to her close relationship with its CEO, Alexander Wenn. When I cleared my throat, she turned to me, and I saw—if only for an instant before she collected herself—that she was deeply troubled.

  “Where have you been?” she asked.

  “I got sick this morning. Alex had to leave without me. But I’m here now—and in time for our appointment. Just as I always am.”

  She arched an eyebrow at me. “What do you mean you got sick?”

  “I threw up. I had to change my clothes. Sick is sick. But I’m fine now.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “Neither do you.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh and waved her hand in front of her face. “This news is making everyone sick. But before we say anything more, close the door behind you. This place has officially become an asylum. If I went out there right now and wiggled a piece of raw meat with the Wenn logo branded on it, they’d fight over it because they’d think it might hold all the answers to their questions.”

  “I don’t blame them for wanting answers. Everyone is scared.”

  “Everyone needs to just settle down.”

  “That’s easier said than done.”

  “Look, I understand their concerns—I know they’re thinking about layoffs—but if I can help it, they aren’t going to hear anything from me. Instead, they’ll need to wait for an official statement from Alex and the board about how they plan to go forward. So, please, shut the door.”

  I closed the door and took the chair opposite her desk. When I did, she stepped away from the windows and claimed her own seat. Here was one of the most vital, arresting women I knew, and she looked at once furious and deflated.

  My first instinct was to reassure her. “This isn’t as bad as it seems.”

  “Seriously, Maine?”

  “It’s not as if we didn’t see this coming.”

  “We saw something coming, Jennifer—but not this. Never this—at least I didn’t. Not this dire. I knew there’d be a reaction, but not a total collapse.”

  “There hasn’t been a total collapse.”

  “Have you checked the stock lately? It’s still dropping. I knew the market would be disappointed when we released our earnings report this morning, but I never thought that it would behave like this. Last quarter, we were clear with our investors. We projected a loss of sixteen cents per share in the second quarter. Somehow, we misjudged that figure and instead we lost twenty-seven cents per share. Now everything has gone to hell. Our market share is down over a billion dollars.” She snapped her fingers in front of me. “Just like that—a billion dollars gone. Worse, is the news that in the third quarter we’ll show a loss of $810 million—and all because Alex wanted to enter the already crowded cell phone market. The R&D it took to create that phone has nearly killed us. And it’s not even noon yet. Tell me—what is the end of the day going to look like?”

  I’d never seen her so flustered.

  “Wenn Technologies entered the cell phone market with an excellent product,” I said. “The SlimPhone is cutting edge—you know that. Alex is in this for the long haul, not the sprint. Sales will grow.”

  “How do you best Apple? How do you crush Samsung?”

  “You offer a better product at a lower price, which we have done. You market it shrewdly, which we have done. Before we even went forward with this project, we did our research—people trust the Wenn brand, and there was significant interest in a Wenn phone. That phone has only been available in stores and online for a couple of weeks. So far, the reviews have been excellent, and sales have been strong. It’s just a matter of time before Wenn’s investment turns into a profit. Certainly, somebody has to see that.”

  “The board doesn’t.”

  I rolled my eyes at that statement. “Oh please. All the board cares about are the numbers that were presented to them today. They have zero vision—Alex is the one who brings the vision.”

  “Here’s my concern,” she said. “From the start, there were a few very vocal board members who warned Alex against developing this phone in the first place. But as CEO, he went forward with it anyway. Now, because of that phone, we have investors who are watching their portfolios plummet—and they’re bailing on us in droves because of it. My guess is that those people would be happy to have your husband’s head served up on an app right now.”

  “This is just one day. Everyone’s overreacting—including you.”

  “I’m not overreacting—I’m being realistic. I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen how ugly it can get. You mark my words on this—people are going to want him to step down as CEO. They’re also going to want to remove him from his positions as president and chairman of the board.” She turned to her computer and clicked her mouse to refresh the screen. “Perfect!” she said. “Now Wenn’s stock is down thirty-seven percent. People will want to get rid of him because of that.”

  “It’s not as if Wenn hasn’t lost market value before.”

  “Not like this it hasn’t.”

  I wasn’t expecting it to become this contentious between us, but I wasn’t about to back down. Still, I held up my hands in an effort to bring down the temperature a few notches. “Can we just take a step back here? Maybe look at the other facts?”

  “What other facts?”

  “Alex is the face of Wenn. People identify him with Wenn just as they identified Steve Jobs with Apple and identify Mark Zuckerberg with Facebook. Time and again, Alex has proved himself as Wenn’s new visionary. He might be under fire now, but over time, he’s essentially untouchable. He has controlling interest over the company, and he has over fifty-seven percent of the voting shares. Right now, even if the board wanted to oust him, they couldn’t.”

  “That isn’t true. Whether you know it or not, your husband is fighting for his job in that boardroom.”

  “Fighting for his job? What does that mean?”

  “Including Alex, there are eight members on the board. You know that. What you might not know is that his father cultivated the old guard. Thank God, four of them are still on it. They’ve known Alex since he was a boy, and, unless things get increasingly ugly and they believe they have no other choice, they’ll remain loyal to him. But there are three relatively new members who don’t share that same kind of alliance—especially that smarmy little sonofabitch Stephen Rowe. The newcomers are only thinking about the bottom line, not to mention the pressure they’ve already received from investors and will continue to receive throughout the day and possibly the coming weeks. Rowe is nothing if not persuasive. Worse, he’s also a snake in the grass—a true opportunist. If he wanted to, he could convince other members to publicly si
de with him against Alex.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? To create the sort of PR nightmare that would cause your husband to step down for the greater good of the company. You’re correct on one level—Alex has the voting shares in his favor. But he’s a good man. He’s a conscious man. And if he was pressured enough to step down ‘for the greater good of the company,’ I think he’d do it out of respect for what his father built. Rowe is the problem. I know what he’s going to do. I know that he’s going to lobby the board to pressure Alex to step down so he can take his place.”

  “I think you’re being melodramatic.”

  “I think you’re being naïve.”

  “Barbara, where is this coming from?”

  “Years of experience that you don’t have.”

  “Maybe not, but I do have common sense. And I also know Alex. Since when has he ever been averse to dealing with pressure? If he wanted to, he could crush Rowe. And please, fill me in. Why are you being so hostile?”

  “Because I know what Rowe is capable of. I warned Alex against him before he even invited him to join the board. I’ve never trusted him.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Gut instinct—and reputation.”

  “Even if he tried to do anything to Alex, he wouldn’t have time to pull it off. Don’t you get it, Barbara? Time is against him. With Wenn’s stock so low, we now have a buying opportunity at hand. This could be over by week’s end. The stock may be back to normal at that point. Why is everyone signaling the potential ruin of Alexander Wenn just based on what’s happened today? It’s ridiculous. It’s a misguided hissy fit.”

  I pushed back my chair and stood. I loved Blackwell, but where was her faith in Alex? “Don’t you believe in Alex more than that?” I asked. “The company has only grown since Alex took over after his father killed himself. I’ve already said it once today, and I’ll say it again—today is a blip. My husband is a genius.”

  Before she could say another word to me, I left her office, shut the door firmly behind me, and walked down the hallway to the bank of elevators, still stunned and discouraged that our exchange had gone so far.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When I returned to my office, I was sidelined by Ann, who motioned me away from her desk and the proximity of Alex’s office, presumably for privacy.

  “The board just broke up,” she said. “Alex is in his office.”

  “That was sooner than expected. How did he look?”

  “Furious. I’ve never seen him so upset. In an hour, he plans to hold a press conference.”

  “I knew that one was coming. Naturally, one had to come—and in this case, the sooner the better. When I first got here, I asked Tank to make sure that it was held in the lobby, not outside.”

  “I’ve since talked with him. Everything is set.”

  “Are the other board members still here?”

  “I think they left.”

  “Left? They’re not going to stand behind him on this?”

  “I’m not sure. They could have gone elsewhere in the building. I watched them get into one of the elevators, and then they were gone. Alex will be able to answer that question for you.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “No—I just wanted you to know that Alex is back.”

  Her undercurrent was clear: And that he needs you now.

  We started to walk back toward her desk.

  “Thank you, Ann. I don’t know how you do it, but you always know how to handle every situation—especially the difficult ones. I appreciate it.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.”

  I went to Alex’s office, knocked twice on his door, and went inside when he called for me to come in.

  * * *

  When I clicked the door shut behind me, I found him seated at his desk and staring intently at his computer. When he saw that it was me, a sense of relief came over him, and he immediately rose.

  “Jennifer,” he said.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Pissed off, but happy as hell to see you.” He nodded toward his computer screen as I crossed the distance between us. “You’re all over the Internet, you know—including video. I was just watching what you had to say before you entered the building.”

  “That didn’t take long.”

  Even though he smiled at me, I could sense the tension behind that smile, and it sickened me. I would never know the extent of what he was going through, but I had a rough idea, and my heart went out to him.

  He winked at me as I approached him. “I think I just heard you call me a genius a couple of times.”

  “You are a genius. You’re more than a genius.”

  “My true genius was to marry you.”

  “Oh, Alex.”

  I held out my arms to him, slipped into his embrace, and then closed my eyes when he enveloped me in his arms. For a long moment, we just stood there, holding each other and I could feel our energy passing between us. From the start of our relationship, what Alex and I always had was visceral. It began with a jolt of unexpected attraction when we first met in an elevator in this very building. But now, after months of dating that culminated in marriage, it had the full weight of love behind it.

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come with you this morning.”

  “You got sick. It’s understandable. What’s happening right now is upsetting, and you took it hard. I don’t want you to worry about it, OK? You’re here now. That’s all that matters to me.”

  “I feel as if I let you down.”

  “You didn’t,” he said into my ear. “I promise you that you didn’t. But I’m glad that you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

  When I pulled away from him, I gave him a meaningful kiss on the lips, which he returned with something that went beyond mere passion. He cupped my face in his hands, met my kiss with his own, and then gently ended it with several kisses on my lips, cheek, and neck. At this point in our relationship, we weren’t just lovers who happened to be married—we also were the best of friends. I couldn't imagine what he’d been through this morning, and I felt laced with guilt that I hadn’t been able to be there for him.

  He sat down on his chair and patted a hand on his lap. “Sit with me,” he said. “I want you close to me.”

  I did as he asked, hooking my right arm around his neck for support and feeling again just how strong he was. Alex stood six-foot-two, he wore his dark hair raked away from a chiseled face peppered with stubble, and his eyes were the color of the sea. They were his best feature—blue-green and framed by thick lashes. And now they were looking at me.

  “Have I told you that you look beautiful?” he asked.

  “I believe you did when we woke up.”

  “Then I’ll say it again—you look beautiful, Jennifer.”

  “I wish I felt beautiful.”

  “Are you still feeling sick?”

  “Just with concern.”

  “Don’t be.”

  I ran my fingers through his hair. “Have I told you how much I love you, Alex? And how sorry I am that this is happening to you? Because I am sorry. You of all people deserve better than this. This shouldn’t be happening to you. They shouldn’t be treating you this way.”

  He shrugged. “But they are. It is what it is. I’ve been here before. I’ll make a statement, and we’ll see if that’s enough to settle down the media, as well as our investors.”

  “How did it go with the board?”

  “Let’s just say that some of them are less than pleased with me.”

  “Is Stephen Rowe among them?”

  He furrowed his brow at me. “Why would you ask that?”

  I told him about my conversation with Blackwell.

  “You got into an argument with her?”

  “Only out of concern for you—but yes, it got intense in her office. But I haven’t taken it personally. She and I are friends—we’ll work it out. Both of us are just worried about yo
u. We see thing differently, that’s all. You know I love her. And I hope that she knows it, too.”

  “She does.”

  “She and Bernie are going to pull me together for tomorrow night’s event. All we need is a little space from each other. For the rest of the day, I’m going to let things cool off between us. When I see her tomorrow night, I’ll address our little argument with a joke. That should break the ice, and get us back on track. It’s not a big deal.”

  “How does she see things?”

  “She’s particularly worried about Stephen Rowe’s intentions.”

  “She should be.”

  “So, she was right?” I checked myself. “But when isn’t she right?”

  “You don’t know him like she does. How could you?”

  “She said that he was a snake in the grass.”

  “He is. I wish I’d known that when I invited him to join the board, but I didn’t. He seemed like a good fit. He seemed like a good guy.”

  “Can he cause you any trouble?”

  “With some effort—yes. But if I act swiftly enough and turn this around in our favor, he won’t have that chance. Time isn’t on his side. The stock will rebound. Hopefully, it will do just that after our investors hear what I’m going to say at the press conference.”

  “What are you going to say?”

  “That the SlimPhone is a hit. In two weeks, we’ve sold over two million units. That’s a win by anyone’s standards, but few in the media reported any of that this morning. And then there are all the other things that are happening with Wenn. Lisa and several of our other best-selling authors are about to come out with new books through Wenn Publishing within the next few weeks. In fact, Wenn Publishing is way up for the quarter, a fact that the press also ignored. So is Wenn Productions, which scored a huge hit last weekend with our thriller, ‘From Manhattan with Love.’ We also just sealed a pilot with NBC for our new series, ‘Fifth Avenue’. The press overlooked all of this today—they decided to leave it out and focus on the negative, because that’s what sells papers. It’s also the negative that draws viewers, and web hits. All they looked at were today’s numbers, which admittedly were crushed by the development of our phone. But you know what’s really big that not one single reporter touched upon?”