Page 176 of Between the Lines

“It’ll steer this book into thingsotherthan the story we want to tell,” one of the board members says. Claire. Usually sharp, she’s one of the few board members who’s regularly had my back. Now her eyes are narrowed. “It’s the wrong kind of publicity, and it will overshadow the memoir.”

“I disagree.” My hands fist as I lean forward. “If anything, it’s an opportunity. Charlotte has her own story of overcomingadversity. Part of it is due to hardships at the hands of this very company. Despite that, she’s an accomplished writer now.”

“And your girlfriend?” Richard asks with raised eyebrows.

I meet his gaze. “Yes.”

At least I still want her to be. But she might object to the title, especially after the last few days. It’s looking less likely ever since the news broke and she stopped answering my calls. Frustration makes my jaw clench and my teeth grind together.

I force myself to project calm and competence instead. Set my shoulders straight as I look at every single Board member around the table.

“The memoir is almost complete. Don’t forget the deal we have. Caleb and Nora Stone of BingeBox will be here for the final round of negotiations later this week.”

“We need that memoir before we approve,” one of the newest Board members says. She pulls up some papers and puts on her reading glasses. “And according to agreed timelines… it’s due at the end of the week.”

“The book will be finished,” I say.

Richard steeples his hand on the table. “What we can all agree on, I hope,” he says, and I hate the tone of his voice, “is that the overall focus has been slipping lately. The tax investigation is still ongoing. I know it’s bogus—we all know it’s bogus—but it received a lot of publicity.”

“I denied it immediately,” I say. “In the weeks since, I’ve also given several short interviews to continue refuting the claims. The rumors are dying down. The quarterly profit report will be released next week. That will change the direction of the conversation and help drive the stock price back up.”

“The memoirist. Dating her…” Ingrid shakes her head. “It raises aspersions on whether you’re taking your role seriously. Titan Media needs good publicity at this time. The stock priceneeds it. And it would certainly bolster the Board’s general confidence in the CEO.”

“In the CEO,” I say. “You mean me.”

She inclines her head, not looking away from me. Even as several of the people around her are quick to avert their eyes. “Yes.”

I press my palm flat on the table. “I have been the CEO of Titan Media for two years. In that period, we have increased our profits. Balanced the books, and handled a significant investigation by the IRS into our tax filings. We’ve won back most of the advertisers that left us in the wake of my father’s arrest. We’re expanding the LA office, and yet our overhead has never been lower. I have made concession after concession to the Board for the sake of good publicity.”

My voice turns sharper. “I have given interviews on our own talk show. I have made sure the Hartman name is associated as little with Alfred’s reputation as possible. I have acquiesced to the Board’s demands to be cautious with my expansion plans, even when I didn’t agree. There is no reason for the Board to have anything but the utmost confidence in me.

“So I will make sure this purchase of BingeBox goes through. I will handle any bad publicity that comes my way in the same way I have dealt with this thus far. And I will date whoever I damn well please.”

I rise from the executive chair and button my suit jacket. “The first draft of the memoir will be in your inboxes by the end of the week,” I say. “Written by a fantastic author who has over-delivered on what you asked of her.”

I walk out of the meeting.

I ask Eric to clear the rest of my afternoon. He doesn’t hesitate before turning to his computer screen and letting his fingers fly across the keyboard.

Blowing off the Board is not something I’ve done before. Not so spectacularly. But right now, I want them and their focus on the stock price to go to hell.

“We got a few new requests for comments,” Eric says.

“Continue to deny them.” I look down at my phone. “Is the article done, the one Jeanette is working on?”

“I’ll check in with her.”

I’m already backing up toward the elevators. “Please do. And send me Vera Tran’s contact number at Polar Publishing.”

Eric’s eyebrows rise. But he just nods. “Will do.”

Possibilities spin through my head. I need to make this right. The one person who wasn’t supposed to be hurt in all of this was Charlotte.

I speed on the drive back to the house. Her Audi is on the driveaway. Thank God.

But there’s no sign of her on the first floor. I call her name, but there’s no response. Taking the stairs two at a time, I race to the upper level.

“Charlotte!” She does not answer; my voice echoes through the empty rooms.

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