Chapter One
“Have you forgotten about the charity auction tonight? Kathleen, you must be there; your rivals will question your absence. It will be your first since becoming CEO. You can’t ignore the ball.” Why hadn’t my PA reminded me of this? I’m buried in selecting models for the winter issue, and the event slipped my mind. My father will be furious.
“I’ve canceled my meetings and conferences for tomorrow night, Dad. I can make it.” A lie, hopefully enough to appease his temper. Our company reports aren’t good this month, and my father and his committee have been stressing over it all week.
“Canceled? I already told your PA to cancel them for you. Christ, Kathleen! Snap out of it! You better make an appearance tomorrow.” Before my father could unleash his anger in the conference room, I excused myself and left. I hate when he’s in “work mode,” especially when directing it at me. He never treats me like his daughter in the office.
I despise charity auctions. Why must I attend this ridiculous ball? I don't even have a gown. “Amanda, inform me of major events at least a week in advance. Cancel all my meetings today. Tell Austin I’ll be leaving in five minutes.” I rushed back to my office, finished outstanding tasks, grabbed my purse, and headed out.
“To the Designer Loft, Austin.” As I settled into the car, I saw seven missed calls and eleven messages from Christina, my best friend. I’d completely forgotten about our breakfast date. I dialed her number.
“You ditched me this morning, bitch!” she yelled.
“Well, hello to you too, Christina. My apologies.” I hadn’t seen Christina in two months. Since becoming CEO, my life revolves around work. I’d always envisioned a career as a lawyer, but my mother insisted I model for the company. She insisted I was “perfect” for it, so I joined management instead.
“Why so formal, Ms. Bellisima?” Now she’s teasing me. I hate when people close to me use my professional name. It feels…odd.
“I’ll make it up to you. Meet me at the Designer Loft; I’m buying a gown.” I secretly hoped she’d decline. Her presence slows my progress, but I crave her company.
“You don’t believe it! The CEO of the top modeling company asking *me* to help her pick a gown? Well, it’s my pleasure!” I hung up.
I opened my tablet and reviewed agency reports. Honestly, a 7% decrease in profits this month barely registers. As usual, my father is overreacting. He wants a partnership with a publishing company, letting them handle the models while we produce the magazines. I disagree, but if the management agrees, I’ll handle the contract signing. Great.
A few minutes later, we arrived at the loft. Thankfully, there were only two customers inside. I don’t need any attention right now. I dread tabloid newspapers featuring my face. Publicity is one thing that discourages me from modeling or acting like my mother.
“What brings the most beautiful woman in New York City to my store today?” asked a woman who looked like the owner. Before I could answer, Christina spoke up.
“She needs the most beautiful evening gown for tomorrow night, and I’m here to help her!” I wondered if Christina had aged at all. We’d gone to high school and college together, and she never matured. The same giggly, loud Christina I’d known forever. I turned and embraced her. I’d missed her presence.
“Well, any preferences, madame?” the lady asked.
“Something elegant, not revealing. Floor-length and long-sleeved,” Christina answered. She knows me well.
“And a dark shade of blue might suit her liking,” I added. My mother despises my clothing style. We’re polar opposites. She likes to expose skin, while I hide it.
The lady retrieved a stunning evening gown. It felt as if the dress had chosen me—an A-line, long-sleeved, blue chiffon gown. Sequins added a touch of glamour. “That looks perfect; I’ll try it on.” I grabbed the gown and headed to the fitting room. It fit perfectly. I opened the door, waiting for Christina’s opinion. She’s brutally honest, but I’d rather hear it from her than anyone else.
“You. Look. Amazing!” She grabbed my hand, twirling me until I felt dizzy. I told the lady I’d buy the gown. I shouldn’t worry about the price, but I asked anyway.
“That will be three thousand five hundred dollars, madame.” I handed her my credit card, unsurprised by the cost. It was worth it—the dress was breathtaking.
After entrusting the gown to Austin, my driver, Christina insisted we have lunch since I’d missed our breakfast date. I chose my favorite Italian restaurant—I’d been craving pizza and pasta.
“So, are you dressing up for anyone tomorrow?” It sounded innocent, but we both knew she wanted me to start dating again.
“Yes, you. You’re coming with me.”
“Even though you didn’t invite me, I have my own invitation.” She pulled it out and showed me. “And you didn’t answer my question, Kath.”
“I know what you’re doing. I have my own priorities, Christina. Anyway, did Mother give you that invitation?” I was doomed if Christina and my mother had been conspiring.
“Yes, she did. Kath, this will be my last time mentioning it, but we know why you’ve been so reserved. It’s been three years. You deserve better, and you know it.”
I tried to distract myself with my pasta. It was delicious, enough to drown out Christina’s words.
“I’m going to find someone better!” she laughed, but sadness laced her voice.
“Christina, you can talk to me, you know that, right?” I offered comfort, but she wasn’t ready to open up. I knew Cole was a player—one-night stands were his specialty. I’d changed my mind about him after he’d spent months with Christina, but I’d been wrong. Dating was the reason I hated it. You love someone, then you grow up, and realize things aren’t working out. Someone always gets hurt.
After lunch, Christina and I parted ways. Instead of relaxing for the rest of the day, I returned to the office. I still needed to address business matters. I was entering my office when my PA informed me my father requested my presence in the meeting room.
“Good afternoon, everyone. My apologies for being late.” I took my seat and opened the folder. My father was discussing a contract signing with the top publishing company in New York. It irked me that he’d smoothed everything over without my input. Negotiating is part of my job as CEO. How am I supposed to finalize a deal with another company if my father takes full control?
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but don’t you think we’re taking a step too far? The risk to the company’s welfare by partnering with another company is significant.” My father glared at me, displeased by my opinion. I knew I had a say, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He’d give all this to me when he stepped down, but I wasn’t sure he trusted me to run it alone.
“We’re dealing with the top publishing company. I have the committee’s approval; we’re pushing this negotiation through, and you’ll finalize it.” He barked orders as usual. The attendees left when the meeting adjourned. I turned to face my father.
“When’s the contract signing?” I didn’t oppose his decision anymore. It was pointless.
“Next week, Wednesday. I’ll have the papers ready by Monday.” Then I realized why he was so insistent.
“You don’t trust me, do you? Dad, is it always about the business? Will it always be about the company? If you think this company will fail when you leave, why did you insist on me managing it?” He was merging two of the best companies, ensuring stability. Did he really not trust me to run it on my own?
“It’s not about that, Kathleen. I know full well you can run this company on your own.” He paused. What was he getting at?
“I’m not sure I understand.” Even though I could be harsh with business, I didn’t like partnerships.
“You both know why you disapprove. He’s not at Peterson Publishing Inc. anymore. I reviewed their company members. Kath, remember that you once fell in love with his books.” Maybe my father was right. I disagreed because the company he was dealing with would constantly remind me of someone I longed to forget.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I shouldn’t mix work with life. That’s unprofessional. Sorry, Dad.” My father embraced me, and I felt comforted. This was the father I loved—the one who saw me as his little cupcake, not a CEO.
“I knew you’d agree. I love you, cupcake.” He laughed. It was good to see him relaxed. “Tomorrow, the CEO of PPI will be at the ball.” He smirked.
“Don’t give me that look, Dad. I’ll deal with the partnership professionally.” I cut him off before he teased me about talking to the CEO tomorrow.