More Than a Fling? (13 page)

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Arrangements for Thursday’s shoot

Hi Ross

With regard to Thursday’s shoot...

In his office at RBM Ross skimmed through Ally’s e-mail,
quickly realised that it was a rehash of everything she’d told him at least six
times before and that it contained nothing personal—
you are
a sex god
would have been nice—and deleted the message.

What was it with these corporate types that they had to check
and double-check every last detail? It was as if the rest of the world couldn’t
function without their continuous input. It drove him nuts...

Ross lifted his head as a sharp rap sounded on his door and
gestured for his CFO to enter. Gavin out-nerded even his nerdiest computer
geeks, but behind the Coke-bottle-thick glasses and crappy clothes was a
first-class brain.

Ross rather liked first-class brains—especially when they were
working for him. ‘You’re looking serious,’ he said, gesturing Gavin to a chair
on the other side of his messy desk. ‘What’s up?’

‘As you are well aware, due to the success of Win! you’ve had
quite a few offers to buy out RBM.’

Ross shrugged; as with the branding issue, people wanted a
piece of the hot action. ‘Yeah? So? I don’t want to sell.’

‘Most people back off when they hear that...except for a
company called Benrope. They won’t hear any of the “not interested” messages
I’ve sent and have continued to send offers to purchase. That piqued my
curiosity and I did some digging.’

Ross raised his eyebrows and Gavin continued. ‘Benrope is a
subsidiary of Bennett Inc. Your dad wants to buy your company. I thought you
should know.’

Ross closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then to twenty. When
he opened them again he saw Gavin shutting his office door behind him. Benrope:
Bennett, Ross, Hope. Grateful to be alone, he dialled a number he knew by heart,
and realised that his father was expecting his call when he was put through
almost immediately.

‘Why do you want my company, Jonas?’

‘I need you back here, and if buying out your company is the
way to do it then that’s what I’ll do,’ Jonas replied, his voice gravelly from a
lifetime of smoking. ‘I need to pass the baton.’

‘I’d rather swallow cut glass.’ Ross gripped the bridge of his
nose with his free fingers, pushed back his chair and stared at the floor
beneath his feet. No
I’m sorry
. No
Come back into the family
. Just business. All
business. Always business.

Frick.

‘What will it take to make you change your mind?’

Jonas used the same line Ally had, and Ross wondered if he’d
missed Learn to Speak Corporate at uni or whether it was an advanced class you
only got to attend when you became a bona-fide workaholic. He felt his temper
bubble and pop and fought the urge to throw his phone across the room.

‘I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need anything from
you.’

‘You belong here—with me,’ Jonas insisted.

Like hell.
‘The days when I take
orders from you, or anybody, are long over.’

‘You’re a Bennett. I built this for you.’

‘And you’re still lying to yourself. You built it for
yourself—to satisfy your need to be the king of the hill. Everything else was
sacrificed for Bennett Inc. Mum, Hope, me.’ Ross swallowed down his bile. ‘When
are you going to understand that I don’t want your life?’

Jonas was silent for a long time. A minute? Two?

Ross was about to hang up when he spoke again, his voice low,
old and frustrated. ‘This is all I have to give you. I don’t know what else you
want.’

This was the frankest, most open conversation they’d ever had
and Ross took the opportunity to say the things he’d left too long unsaid.

‘I think it’s too late for what I want. I wanted your time,
your attention, to feel that I was more important than a business. I wanted a
dad I could watch sports with, have a beer with, shoot the breeze with. Except I
got you: inattentive and uninterested unless I was as involved with and as
consumed by Bennett Inc. as you. It was too high a price to pay. It will always
be too high a price.’

‘I don’t know what to say to that.’

‘There is nothing to say, Jonas. Tell your minions at Benrope
to stop annoying my CFO with buy-out offers. It’s never going to happen.’

Ross very gently and very deliberately placed the receiver into
its cradle—he was
not
going to allow his father to
make him lose his temper!—and jumped to his feet. Moving over to his window, he
opened it wide, allowing the air-conditioned air to rush out while he sucked in
fresh, clean air.

Jonas... Talking with him was always such a pleasure.

Ross heard his phone beep the arrival of a text message and
pulled it out of his pocket. Ally.

It’s nearly three o’clock. Time to leave. Don’t be late. We’re on a
tight schedule.

Irritation welled again, hard and true. Another work-obsessed,
stubborn-ass, anal corporate drone. Sexy as hell, though. Unfortunately.

TEN

Ross parked
his
Ducati next to the stairs leading up to Ally’s apartment and yanked off his
helmet. What a God-awful crappy day, he thought, and he still had to walk a
little way up Table Mountain with a fake girlfriend and play nice with the
cameras.

Kill me now
, he thought, kicking
down the stand and climbing off the bike. It was ridiculous how one conversation
with his father could derail his mood, make him feel off balance and pull all
those stupid feelings of disappointment and resentment to the surface.

His father was an emotional moron, he thought in disgust as he
headed for the stairs. So why did he still wish he could have a proper
relationship with the man? Why did he still seek his approval? Maybe
he
was the moron, he thought as he climbed the stairs,
wishing he’d taken a handful of aspirin before he left the office. His head felt
as if it was ready to explode...

Thanks, Dad.

Ross felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out to
squint at the screen. Ally...of course it was.

WTH are you????

Frick. Why did he have to deal with two managing, corporate,
controlling personalities in one day?

Deciding to jerk her chain, he quickly formulated a reply.

Why? Did we have plans?

Because, really, he needed sixty reminders to get something in
his head.

Don’t mess with me, Bennett! I’m not in the mood.

Ross jerked that chain again.

Let’s compare days, sweetheart. Bet I’ll win. I’ll be there in an
hour. Some bugs in a string code that we need to sort out.

Ross stood outside her door and waited, knowing that it was
coming. Five, four, three...and his mobile rang in his hand. That was the
problem with control freaks and people with tunnel vision—it made their actions
easy to predict. It was a lesson he’d learnt the hard way with Jonas. Along with
‘Do it my way or get the hell out of my life’.

He’d chosen to get the hell out...but, man, he still wished
that there had been a middle ground.

Ross shook his head and walked into the apartment, waving his
ringing mobile and rolling his eyes.

‘You really should trust people more, Jones,’ he said.

She didn’t look happy with him and Ross silently suggested that
she get in line.

Ally watched Ross’s long-length stride as he made his way past
the clothing racks and camera equipment to her side, his hair pulled back from
his face. His eyes were hard, his mouth unyielding, and tension had his
shoulders up around his ears. Okay, so he wasn’t having a good day. Well, she
wasn’t having a good
week
.

Ross’s mobile chirped and while she waited for him to finish
his call she mused over the fact that her time in Cape Town work-wise had been
eye-opening. Trying to plan and organise a shoot in a strange city was always a
challenge, and Cape Town was no different.

Half of the Bellechier collection of clothing and accessories
for Ross was still in Customs and Ally was struggling to get it released. Their
cameraman had flu, and for some reason her normally crazily efficient, focused
and dedicated crew—from both Bellechier
and
the ad
agency—were treating this shoot as a working holiday.

They dressed for work as if they were heading for the beach,
sloped off early to watch the whales or to visit one of the nearby wine farms.
Didn’t they realise how important this campaign was? How essential it was that
everything had to be perfect?

The chances of this going badly wrong were stratospheric—Ross
was a gamble, teaming his bad-ass CEO look with the upmarket but casual clothes
of the new line was a gamble, and shooting the commercials in Cape Town was a
gamble—and she didn’t like to gamble when it came to Bellechier or her job.

She liked certainties, plans, a clear route to the goal...and
she definitely didn’t like the fact that she was frequently distracted from said
goal by thoughts of Ross...in and out of the bedroom.

Ross disconnected and jammed his mobile back into his pocket.
Such a heart-grabbingly handsome man, she thought, with his wizard eyes, grim
mouth and short hair... Dear Lord, he’d cut his shoulder-length hair.

What. The. Hell?

Noooooooo...

‘You’ve cut your hair,’ Ally whimpered, her hand swiping her
mouth in horror.

Ross ran a hand over his short, spiky head. ‘Yeah, I thought I
should tidy it up before the filming started.’

‘And you didn’t think to talk to me about it?’ Ally demanded,
completely and utterly horrified.

‘I’ve been making decisions about my hair for a while
now—without your input,’ Ross replied, his voice hard.

She was too appalled to hear the warning note in it.

Dammit, sod it... He’d cut his hair. There went the
juxtaposition between her bad-boy CEO and the sophisticated Bellechier clothes.
How would it affect the campaign? Would it hurt it? Would it fail? Would she
fail?
Dammit, Bennett!

‘Yeah but since you sold your face, your hair, to Bellechier—to
me!—then I should’ve been consulted!’ Ally twisted her hands together. ‘What
were you
thinking
?’

Unaware that the six other people in the room were watching
their argument with interest and amusement, Ally jumped when Ross grabbed her
arm and hauled her across to the door that led to a deck outside. He pushed her
through the open door, slammed it shut behind her and walked her down the deck
so that they were out of earshot of the rest of the crew.

Ally wrenched her arm from his grasp. ‘What are you doing? I’m
not some cave girl you can drag around!’

‘And I’m not someone you get to shout at. And let me tell you
something else, Jones: I never sold a damn thing to you
or
Bellechier! So don’t you ever speak to me like that again!’ he
said in a low, frustrated voice.

Ally felt the burn in her gut, the all too familiar pain
beneath her ribs. ‘Well, you shouldn’t have cut your hair!’

‘It’s
my
bloody hair!’

Ross linked his hands behind his head and sucked in a deep
breath, obviously looking for control. His eyes sparked dangerously.

‘You need to start treating me like an intelligent human
being—and that includes you not sending me a dozen e-mails about the same
blasted thing!—or we call it quits right now. I
do
run a multi-frickin’-mega-million-dollar company, you know, and I do not need
your constant memos and reminders! It’s about time you and everyone else
realised that I’m pretty damn good at organising my life!’

Jeez! Where had that come from?

‘I’m just trying to make sure everything runs smoothly,’ Ally
protested, her temper fizzing. ‘This is my job, Ross!’

‘Well, this is my life, so butt the hell out!’

Okay, this was the first time she’d seen him angry— really
angry. Suddenly Ally wasn’t even sure what they were arguing about.

‘You’re micro-managing me and you’re driving me nuts. Your
staff must be on Prozac, dealing with you every day. You’d drive a monk to meth,
Alyssa!’

That was harsh and cruel. And very unlike the Ross she’d
thought she—kind of—knew.

Norm, the creative director for the ad agency, stuck his head
around the corner of the deck and shuffled his feet. ‘Sorry to interrupt your
screaming match, but if we don’t leave within the next five minutes we’re going
to run out of light...and time.’

Ross nodded tersely. He gestured to Ally and in a hard, cold
voice asked, ‘Do you need
her
there?’

Norm looked uncomfortable and Ally sighed.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Because I want to get this done, and it would go a hell of a
lot quicker and easier if she wasn’t bitching at me.’

‘That’s so unfair,’ Ally said in a low voice, hurt twisting her
stomach and piercing her heart.

Ross ignored her. ‘Well?’ he demanded, still looking at
Norm.

‘We could do it without her,’ Norm said, with an apologetic
look in her direction. He held up his hand in protest. ‘This time.’

‘Stay here,’ Ross commanded her.

Ally really,
really
didn’t respond
well to orders. She slapped her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. ‘And if I
don’t?’

‘Alyssa, just give me a goddamn break...please?’ He looked at
Norm. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Norm. Creative Director.’

‘Ok...Norm and I are going to get this done and we’ll talk
later. Maybe.’

Ross brushed past Ally and stormed back into the room, and Ally
surmised that he must have issued a quick command because everyone in the room
started moving, gathering clothes and equipment as they went.

Norm cleared his throat and Ally turned to look at him, her
lips pursed.

‘Sorry, Ally.’

‘Not your fault, hon.’ Ally shoved her hands into her hair. ‘I
guess I lit the fuse to that particular powder keg.’

Norm placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘We’ll get it done,
Al.’

Ally nodded and dredged up a smile. ‘You always do. Thanks,
Norm.’

Ross poked his head around the door, glared at them both and
snapped out his parting shot. ‘I’m leaving. You coming or staying, Norm?’

* * *

Hours later Ally stood on the wooden deck of the
apartment, her arms on the railing, a half-empty wine glass dangling from her
fingers, and stared out at the restless Atlantic ocean. Ross’s words bounced
around her head. Was she
really
such a
micro-manager?
Did
her staff need Prozac?
Would
she drive a monk to meth?

Was she really that bad? In her quest for perfection, her
desire to succeed, did she treat people like fools? Lord, she hoped not. But she
suspected—knew—that she did sometimes. She could be hell on her staff—was
definitely hell on relationships. But Ross was the first person to call her on
it...the first man to point out her faults and to tell her that her behaviour
was unacceptable.

She didn’t like it but she had to respect it. Ally frowned into
the darkness. She really didn’t like the fact that he’d kept her off the shoot.
She wouldn’t allow that to happen again.

‘Thinking of ways to off me?’

Ally jumped and whirled round, her heart threatening to climb
out of her chest and belt off into the darkness. Ross stood on the other side of
the deck, his shoulder on the glass and wood door that led back into the
apartment.

‘How did you get in?’ she asked, placing her wine glass on the
low coffee table beneath her.

‘Norm gave me his key. He said to tell you that I was on my
best behaviour and that the shoot went well.’ Ross held up his hand as she
looked around for her mobile. ‘He also said to tell you that he’s switching his
phone off and that he’ll fill you in tomorrow.’ Ross pulled the pad of his thumb
along his chin. ‘So, about this afternoon...’

Ally stared out to sea, every muscle in her body taut with
tension. ‘I’m sorry I shouted at you. I’m especially sorry that I did it front
of the entire crew.’

Ross was quiet for so long that Ally eventually made herself
look at him. Even in the low light she could see the upward tilt of his
lips.

‘Bet that hurt,’ he said finally.

She knew that she had more to say and fumbled for the words. ‘I
was wrong, but you shouldn’t have banned me from the shoot.’

Ross nodded and Ally was surprised.

‘You’re right, that was a low blow. As were the Prozac and
meth-addicted monk comments.’ Ross rubbed the back of his neck as he walked
across the deck in her direction. He gripped the railing with his hands and
dropped his head back to look at the stars.

‘What do you know about my dad?’

The question came out of the blue and Ally had to take a moment
to catch up. ‘Uh...thinking... Not much, actually. He’s never spoken publicly
about how and why he built Bennett Inc., has he?’

‘That’s my dad; for an owner of a PR company he’s not great at
communicating.’ Ross took a sip of wine from her glass on the table and gestured
for her to sit down on the square ottoman that ran the length of the deck. Ally
dropped down, crossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees.

Ross sat down next to her, leaned his back against the railing
and casually draped his forearm across her knee.

‘He grew up poor—very poor—and he vowed that his children would
want for nothing. Ever.’ Ross’s voice was as deep and dark as the night. ‘We
didn’t. My sister and I had the latest toys, the latest clothes, the best
education. What we didn’t have was his time, his attention, his input. We never
felt loved, and we always felt like we were competing with Bennett Inc. We
always lost.’

Ally knew that platitudes and sympathy would be unwelcome so
she gave him silence and waited until he spoke again.

‘I thought that by going to work with him at Bennett Inc., by
sharing his work, we would have something we could build a relationship on. I
never banked on how much I would hate it.’

‘Why did you hate it so much?’

Ross let out a long breath. ‘It’s soulless. So many rules,
written and unwritten, and none of them serve any purpose. The corporate world
is about the bottom line, and people are a casualty of getting those profits. It
was sucking the life out of me—and, trust me, I had it easy. My father made sure
of that. When I felt like I couldn’t breathe any more I bailed and my father
didn’t take it well.’

‘What happened?’

‘He cut me off. From everything.’ Ross’s hand gripped her knee.
‘A lot of people within the company and probably within our extended family
think that our rift is about the fact that he cut me off from my trust fund,
from the family money... Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jonas still thought
that too.’

‘It wasn’t about the money because
you’re
not about the money,’ Ally murmured.