Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 (4 page)

“I spoke with Ann earlier.
 
She said that the board had left.”

“They’re here somewhere.
 
They’ll be at the press conference.”

“Are you sure?”

“Unless they plan to go to war with
me, they kind of have to be there.
 
I don’t see them not being there.”

But an hour later, when we
assembled in front of the press in the lobby, my worst fears were
confirmed—Alex didn’t have the full board behind him.
 

When he spoke to the press, he did
so with enthusiasm, despite the fact that he only had me at his side and the
four members of the old guard Blackwell had mentioned earlier.
 
The other three members were AWOL, and I
knew that would send a clear message to the press that Alex, though full of
optimism and facts, didn’t have the board’s full support.
 
Reporters would take note of
that—and in my gut, I knew that they’d run with it regardless of what he
said.
 
It was the negative piece of
the equation that I’d hoped to sidestep because I knew that it was this that
the business world would latch onto.

*
 
*
 
*

Later that evening, when the day
was behind us and by the time the markets had closed, Wenn’s stock—which
had plummeted forty-three percent before Alex’s press conference—had rebounded
by nine percent.

“We aren’t out of the woods yet,”
he said to me when we stepped into our Fifth Avenue penthouse.
 
When we married, we gave up Alex’s
apartment at Wenn and purchased a new home on the corner of Fifth and
Sixty-First Street to give us a fresh start.
 
“But it’s something.
 
The entire board didn’t show up to offer
their support, so we’ll need to see how that plays out.
 
I’m afraid it won’t be good.”

It was early evening, and beyond
the windows that overlooked Fifth was a purplish hue punctuated by golden spots
of amber-colored lights to the right and left of us.
 
I dropped my clutch in the entryway,
reached for his hand, and held it in mine as we moved into our apartment.

“I’m worried about their lack of
support,” I said.

“Let’s see how the stock shakes out
before we start to worry—we’ll have a good indication by morning.
 
I messaged Robert, my head of PR, and
told him that I’m prepared to do a host of interviews ASAP.
 
He’ll field those calls and tell me
who’s interested, and then, you and I will choose the opinion leaders we think could
best make a difference when I lay out Wenn’s vision to them.
 
I want to do as much of that as soon as
possible.
 
Do you agree?”

“I do.”

“Look, we’ve had a hell of a
day.
 
What do you say we sit down
and just relax?
 
Would you like
martini?”

“Actually, I would.
 
But let me make them.
 
You go and sit in the living room.
 
No, Alex, don’t give me that look.
 
Take off your jacket and your tie.
 
I’ll also bring us something to snack on
since we haven’t had dinner.”

“We can go out to eat,” he said.

“Hell no.”
 
I kicked off my heels and immediately
felt better because my feet were swollen from standing in them for so
long.
 
“This girl is home with her
husband.
 
She’s going to indulge in
a drink and a few bites to eat with him, and then we’ll see what comes
later.”
 

He cocked his head at me.
 
“What does that mean?”

I kissed him on the lips.
 
“You never know what might come.
 
So, go and sit down, stud.
 
I’ll grab us what we need.
 
Give me five minutes.”

When I returned with the drinks,
Alex was sitting on one of the white sofas that overlooked Fifth.
 
He’d removed his jacket and tie, and he’d
unbuttoned his shirt to the point that I could see the concave of his throat
and a trace of his chest.
 
I thought
he looked drained, not like himself, which was something I wanted to fix.
 
I handed him his martini, put mine down
on the coffee table, and then returned to the kitchen to retrieve a plate
filled with cheeses, green grapes, and nuts.
 
I put the plate down on the coffee
table, sat as close to him as possible, and lifted my martini to him.

“Here’s to nailing the press
conference,” I said.

“We’ll see if I nailed it.”

“You did.
 
You didn’t give anyone a chance to
change the agenda.
 
It was
perfect—and it was positive.
 
Bravo.”

We touched glasses and sipped.

“God, that’s good,” he said.
 
“Did you know that in Russia, they call
vodka ‘my dear little water’.
 
Sound
appropriate?”

“It sounds as if I want to drink vodka
from the tap if we should ever visit there.”

“Do you know what’s even
better?
 
Having you here with
me.
 
Riding this out with me.
 
You mean the world to me, Jennifer.
 
I’m so happy that you’re not only my
wife, but that you’re my confidant and best friend.”

He put his drink back onto the
coffee table, and then took mine from my hand and placed it next to his.
 
I knew what was coming.
 
He swept me into his arms, our lips met,
and then suddenly he lifted me off the sofa and carried me to the bedroom.

When he made love to me that night,
it defined what it was to make love.
 
He was gentler than he’d ever been with me.
 
It was a profound kind of love, the sort
that made our connection deeper than it already was.
 
He cupped my breasts in his hands,
kneaded them, and gently sucked on my nipples, which were so unusually
sensitive, I inexplicably climaxed.

“That was fast,” he said with a
grin.

“It’s not as if I’m spent,” I
countered.

“Then let’s consider that the first
of many you’ll enjoy tonight.”

“Feel free to fulfill that
promise.”

When he traced his tongue down my
torso, I felt as if my body was on fire.
 
My breathing quickened.
 
I
felt my heart begin to race.
 
When
he entered me with his tongue, I was at full boil, with my back arched as I
writhed against him.
 
I reached down
and ran my fingers through his hair as he flicked his tongue over my
folds.
 
I wasn’t sure what it
was—perhaps because today had been so stressful—but my body was
more open and receptive to him than it ever had been.
 
It was as if all of my nerve endings
were calling out to him and craving his touch, in all of its many forms.
 
I clutched a handful of his hair and
pressed his mouth closer to me when he brought me to completion again.

“You’re in a mood,” he said.

“I don’t know what’s come over
me.
 
But I do know this—I want
you inside of me.”
 
I reached down
between his legs and felt his length and girth throbbing in my hand.

“You don’t need any more time?”

I immediately sat up, straddled his
lap, and took one of his nipples into my mouth.
 
They were among the most sensitive parts
of his body, and I licked and bit each one of them as he lifted me up and
entered me.

When he did, I felt a searing
pain—even at this point, I still wasn’t used to his size.
 
But I adjusted to it, and I rode
him.
 
I fell on my back for
him.
 
I got on my knees for him.
 
With each new position, we tossed me
against the bed, his breath hot against my body, my hands outstretched and
clutching the sheets as if they alone would take away the pleasure—and
the pain.

 
As he continued to plunge into me, I
could feel him pulsing through my entire body—not just my sex.
 

Somehow, our lovemaking was
different this time.
 
More
intense.
 

When we both reached climax
together, there was little question that, despite the day—or perhaps
because of it—that this was us at our best.
 

CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning, I woke early
after a restless sleep to find that I was alone in our bed.
 
I sat up, and looked around the room and
then over at the bedroom door, which was partly closed.

I smelled coffee.
 

How long has he been up?

I looked at the clock on the bedside
table and saw that it was only four-thirty, which meant that pre-market trading
already had begun.
 
With a sense of
trepidation, I got out of bed, found my white silk robe draped over the padded
bench at the end of it, and slipped it over my naked body.

“Alex?” I called.

“In my office, Jennifer.”

Before leaving the bedroom, I went
quickly into the adjoining bathroom.
 
I used the facilities, and then splashed cold water on my face, ran a
brush through my hair, and put moisturizer on my face.
 
I was still vain enough in my marriage
that I only ever wanted Alex to see me at least looking reasonably good, even
though I knew that he couldn’t care less about that.
 
But still…I wasn’t about to not make an
effort.
 
The last thing he needed to
see was that his wife had turned into a horror show.

Once I’d brushed my teeth and done
the best I could with myself without taking a shower and covering my face with
the works, I left the bedroom and stepped into the living space just as Alex
emerged from his office.
 

I knew why he was up so
early—he’d been on his computer, tracking Wenn’s stock, and reading what was
being said about him and Wenn in today’s papers and blogs.
 
He wore nothing but his pale gray boxer
briefs, and his hair was skewed to one side in a way that I thought looked sexy
as hell.
 
The stubble on his face
that I adored so much was in full show now—as were his dimples.
 
The sight of him shirtless and looking
so happy to see me made me melt.
 
He
came over to me, pulled me into his arms, kissed me on the mouth, and asked me
if I wanted a cup of coffee.

“That would be wonderful,” I
said.
 
“But let me get it.”

“I’ll get it for you.
 
And by the way, you didn’t have to brush
your teeth for me.
 
Or do your
hair.
 
Or do whatever else you’ve
done.”

“Oh yes I did.
 
After what you put me through last
night, I looked like hell.
 
You
deserve better than that.”

“Actually, it’s me who doesn’t
deserve you.”

I watched him move into the
kitchen, and I tried to sense his mood.
 
He seemed to be his usual self, but I knew him so well at this point
that I sensed an undercurrent.
 
Was
something wrong?
 
I wasn’t sure, but
I wasn’t about to jump in now and ask him where our stock was or what was being
said about him and Wenn online.
 
Now
wasn’t the time.
 

I watched him as he pulled a cup
from one of the cupboards and filled it with coffee, cream, and sugar.
 
He gave it a quick stir and then walked
over to me with a smile.

And that’s when I knew—his
smile was strained.
 
It wasn’t
real.
 
It was a smile meant to set
me at ease.

I took the cup when he offered it
to me and sipped.

“You’re up early,” I said.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“How long have you been up?”

“About an hour.
 
Would you like some breakfast?
 
I’m not hungry, but I can make you some
eggs if you’d like.
 
Or whatever you
want.
 
Just name it.”

Alex and I had never been big on
small talk.
 
So, I sat down at the
breakfast bar and brought my coffee to my lips.
 
“What’s going on, Alex?”

“How about if you finish your
coffee first?”

“There’s no need to—I’m
awake.
 
What’s the news?”

“It’s a mix,” he said.

“So pro and con?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s the ratio?”

“More con than pro.”

“Sit with me?” I asked.

He did, and when he did, I wrapped
my arm around his bare shoulders.

“Where is Wenn’s stock now?”

“We fell two points since
yesterday’s close.
 
And so far in
early trading, we’ve lost another three points.”

I knew what that meant, and I
braced myself for it.
 
Investors
would see that five-point decline as additional unrest.
 
More could bail when the markets opened
at nine-thirty.
 
But that could turn
around depending on what the press was saying.
 
So I asked him.

“Let’s begin with the big ones,” I
said.
 
“What is the
Times
saying?”

“Fair and balanced, as you’d
expect.
 
It’s an in-depth article
that ends on a positive note.
 
As
far as they’re concerned, the initial numbers for the
SlimPhone
are beyond impressive, but they worry about it going forward in a market that’s
‘overcrowded with other phones’—as they put it—which, of course, it
is.”

“What else did they say?”

“That Wenn was diverse, which is
good.
 
The reporter, Michael Hayes,
did his homework, and he obviously listened to me at the press conference.
 
There was a lot of positive information
in his article.
 
He touched on
everything, including Wenn Pharmaceutical—and the potential billions our new
drug could make for Wenn.
 
He even
mentioned Wenn Publishing and noted that it saw a large spike last quarter due
especially to Lisa’s book.
 
In the
end, he wrote that the correction in our stock was overstated, and that he
considers Wenn a strong buy.”

“Well, that’s great,” I said.

“The problem is that he’s just one
reporter.”

“What did the
Journal
have to
say?”

“They were more critical.”

“How critical?”

“They actually reviewed the phone
against our competition, and, as much as they liked it, they think we didn’t go
far enough.
 
They think we should
have given it more memory, and a more robust chip, and a larger screen, even
though we bested what the top phones are offering.
 
They wanted to see more.
 
They wanted a game changer, which they
believe the market needs right now.
 
They liked the design and the interface, but their concern is that we
have only one phone on the market, while others—such as Apple and
Samsung—have several.
 
They’re
worried about that.
 
We have only
one entry point into the market—our competition has several.
 
They also think our phone is pricey,
which it isn’t—the number of units we’ve moved tells us that.
 
They wondered if our price will slow
sales going forward.”

“Is that all they reported on?
 
The phone?”

“No.
 
The good news is that they also
mentioned how diversified we are, but the bad news is that part was buried in
their story.
 
They said that our
diversification has always been our strength.
 
Several inches were given to the success
of Wenn Publishing and Wenn Pharmaceutical.
 
They especially gave us major points for
Pharmaceutical, particularly—as you’d expect—with what’s coming
from them.
 
But they consider our
stock a ‘hold,’ not a ‘sell’ or a ‘buy’.”

“How about
Business Week
and
Bloomberg
?”

“They were more in line with the
Journal
than they were with the
Times
.
 
But they did say good things.”

“How about
The Motley Fool
?”

“They consider us a ‘sell.’”

“Seriously?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And the others?”

“All negative.”

I processed that for a moment, and
then I said, “The good news is that investors don’t read the
Post
or the
Daily Mail
—and they certainly don’t take them seriously.
 
If they’re looking for information on
where to put their money, they’re going to the other four first, beginning with
the
Times
and the
Journal
.
 
The
Fool
fucked us, but they deal mostly with day traders, and
not with serious investors—such as a fund manager.
 
It seems as if the most critical to us
at least offered a balanced opinion that’s open to consideration and
evaluation.”

“Agreed.
 
Look, I have my own ideas about how we
address this going forward, but I’d like to hear your ideas.”

“Yesterday, you wanted the press to
come to you, and they did.
 
Today is
another day.
 
Our stock is already
down five points, so we need to be proactive and go to them.
 
You need to be profiled in
features.
 
You need to have a real
conversation that will reach the masses.
 
Have you talked to Robert in PR yet?”

“I was about to call him.”

“Get him on the phone ASAP.
 
You need to offer one-on-one interviews
to every thought-leader that matters.
 
Sit with the
Times
, the
Journal
,
Business Week
,
Bloomberg
.
 
Call Robert and have his team arrange
those interviews for you today.
 
As
in the next hour.
 
This is a hot
story—people will jump at the chance to have at you.
 
My advice is the same as it was
yesterday—keep your focus positive, on point, and upbeat, because that’s
where it needs to be.
 
The market
has overreacted.
 
Wenn has too much
going for it not to be a buy.
 
Wenn
is a blue-chip stock.
 
Getting the
press on board for interviews this morning and afternoon shouldn’t be an issue.
 
But listen to me here—limit each
interview to thirty minutes.
 
They’re going to be hungry to get to you.
 
What you need to do is to serve them
your message via their questions.
 
If you’re asked something that seems unfair, deflect it—and spin
it.
 
Does that sound workable for
you?”

“I can handle that.”

“I know you can.”

“But we have an event to go to
tonight.”

“I know we do—Henri
Dufort’s
party.
 
Given what happened on his rooftop with Jake Kobus, who nearly killed
me, I’d rather not go back there.
 
But things have changed.
 
Jake is dead.
 
Gordon Kobus is
out of our lives.
 
So I think we
should go forward with it for a key reason.
 
Now is not the time to back out of
anything as high profile as this event.
 
Now is not the time to disappear from sight.
 
Instead, we must follow through with all
commitments, and show the world that, as Wenn’s CEO, you are not even flinching
at the drop in Wenn’s stock.
 
The
party isn’t until eight.
 
If Robert
puts out feelers now, you’ll have a full morning and afternoon of
interviews.
 
The board will see that
you’ve made a significant effort.
 
They’ll be pleased that you did.
 
They’ll see that you’re not taking this lying down.
 
When you’re finished with the interviews,
we’ll have something quick to eat, and then we’ll get ready for the party.”

“With the entire board in town, you
do realize that most—if not all—of them will be at Henri’s
tonight?
 
They’re all friends with
him.”
 
He rolled his eyes.
 
“But who isn’t friends with that man?”

“Well, he is likable.
 
And he is Henri Dufort.”

“True enough.”

“You know, this party might be an
opportunity.”

“How so?”

“What better way to gauge how
people are feeling after seeing what the stock does today?
 
I need you to get in front of this story
again, Alex, because right now?
 
In
the business world?
 
It’s the
biggest story out there.
 
You need
to drive it the best way you can.
 
Call Robert now and get him on it.
 
Who gives a damn if he loses a bit of beauty sleep because of it?
 
You certainly pay him enough.
 
My recommendation is that you get him on
the phone, and have him start to put things into motion in the next hour.”