Page 8 of Breathe
Leo was looking as sympathetic as Anna, and Kane didn’t want his sympathy. He knew that people were remembering thirteen years ago—hell, the media was probably pulling archive photos of Kane’s first-ever press conference in time for the evening news. He hated thinking of it, hated the vulnerability he’d shown. He’d been too young. He’d spent the next decade trying to make everyone forget that.
He came away from the window, stubbing out the cigarette in the Bruins ashtray his youngest sister had given him. “You really don’t think this is affecting our image?”
She’d been digging at him, when she’d mentioned his image. He could tell. But her dislike didn’t mesh with the other signals she’d given off.
Focus.
“Not right now, anyway. Most of our calls have been from the press, not from customers. Our sales people in the Midwest dealt with the problem as soon as it happened. You’d need a few more fires to affect production in Fielding Paper. So go home, okay? I’ll deal with any calls that come in.”
“Okay, I’m going, I’m going. See you tomorrow.”
• • •
But he didn’t go. He set up a conference call with the site managers in the North-Central division for the following morning. He talked to the insurance companies about loss prevention and sent emails to give people the right phone number to call. He called his COO about security cameras. At every mill. Many locations didn’t have them; they relied on motion detectors and fences, or the fact that most of the equipment and product was too big to steal. He sat in a fog of self-reproach for twenty minutes, kicking himself for not having the cameras installed in the first place. He called his CFO about cash flow. He smoked several cigarettes.
When Anna came in and pointedly cleared her throat, he was at the window again, and nearly fell out of it. “Don’t do that to me,” he gasped, clutching his heart.
“Yeah, like me making you jump is any worse for your heart than what you’re doing to it. You’ve been here three hours past the time you said you were going to go home. Go home.” She grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his desk and made to crush it in her fist. “Or the Marlboros get it.”
Unhappy with how much the idea of losing that pack bothered him, Kane got off the sill and picked up his jacket. “See you tomorrow,” he echoed, snatching the cigarettes from her.
She laughed, and he walked away from her up the hall. At the lobby doors, however, he glanced back to see if she was still watching, then slipped past and knocked on Lucía’s door.
“Hey,” Lucía said, looking up from her desk.
“Hi.” He leaned in the doorway. “So what do you think about using the Rosette?”
“I don’t know,” she said, picking up the brochure Ellen had left with her. “I’ll have to have the other hotels come in to present as well. But the Rosette’s the best corporate hotel in town, and the discount she’s giving me is unbelievable. If we go with them exclusively, of course.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “I like Ellen. She’s wicked smart; speaks five languages or something. And of course she’s an incredible event planner.”
“If she does the Queen’s Ball, I believe it.” He was still surprised he didn’t remember her from previous years. Then again, he wasn’t such an asshole that he’d ogle another woman when he had a date right next to him.
“It’s next weekend. You’re going, right?” Lucía said.
Crap. So much for putting Ellen out of his mind.
Gloria had a cab waiting for him when he got out to the street. He was tired enough to sleep the weekend through, but as the taxi pulled away, instead of telling the driver to take him home, he found himself saying, “The Rosette.”
