Page 3 of Just The Way You Aren’t (Last Billionaire Standing #1)

DAMIEN

“‘ T hey should be happy to give up their homes for this project,’ says CEO of Langley Enterprises, Damien Langley, of the neighborhood residents. Just another heartless billionaire mowing down helpless homeowners for a building project.’” I glance up as my board stares at me in the company conference room.

“Oh, come on. This is a load of bullshit. They took that quote completely out of context. I’d just told Bill to give them double their homes’ worth, for God’s sake! ”

“Keep reading,” Alfred says, almost sounding gleeful.

“Keep… keep reading what? This dreck?” I snort. “Why?”

“Oh, you’ll find out,” he grins.

I want to punch the walking combover—well, sitting combover now—but decide that would probably just turn more of the board members against me.

I skim the rest of the article, then feel my stomach drop right out of my ass.

“‘It boggles this reporter’s mind that Guardian Productions, a family-friendly company, as we all know, would get into bed with such a family-unfriendly man.’” I scoff.

“That’s it. We need to go after this woman for libel.

Or we would have to, if this wasn’t an irrelevant little rag from the middle of nowhere. No one’s going to read this crap.”

Alfred steeples his fingers in front of him as though he’s building a platform from which to launch projectiles at me.

And he does. “The CFO of Guardian Productions reads that ‘irrelevant little rag’ and has run that criticism up the flagpole. They’re talking about pulling their business with us and giving it to someone else.

That means, of course, no studios, film sets, offices, etc.

, etc. I’m sure you remember this is the biggest deal Langley Enterprises has had since your father died. He was a real rainmaker.”

I grind some enamel off my teeth. If Alfred’s skinny, balding ass knew how difficult it is to ‘make rain’ in this economy post-pandemic, when businesses are still closing down their big office buildings in favor of work-from-home incentives, he’d probably shut his big trap.

As it is, he keeps on gawping like a landed bass.

“We can’t have this type of publicity. And we cannot afford to lose Guardian Productions,” he says, thumping the polished, thick wood conference table with his finger.

“No, we can’t,” one of his cronies chimes in.

Others shake their heads as well, even those not under Alfred’s wing, and I know I’ve been defeated. I let out a long sigh. “What do I have to do, and how much is it going to cost?”

“Oh, we’ve already worked that out for you,” Alfred says, nearly salivating with anticipation.

Whatever they’ve ‘already worked out’ for me is going to be deeply, deeply painful, I just know it. “You did?” I grumble.

“We did,” Alfred beams. “We’ve arranged for you to volunteer with Silver Hearts. You’ll be helping with their fundraiser. ”

“Silver who?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Silver Hearts. They serve the elderly who want to remain in their homes in their old age. They actually have various programs under that one umbrella—food delivery, legal help, yardwork, and housekeeping. You name it.” The board member who is speaking now, a perky bleached blonde named Gladys, who is also nearing the elderly stage in her life.

She continues to gush about the organization.

“The Executive Director of Silver Hearts is the sweetest woman named Willow?—”

“How much do they need for their fundraiser?” I ask, certain I can make this go away with a couple hundred-thousand dollars or so.

Gladys gives me a disapproving look and Alfred actually chortles. Chortles.

“I’m afraid money isn’t going to cut it this time, Damien,” he says, part of his greased, gray combover falling into his eyes.

I grunt. “How can money not cut it? Money fixes everything. That’s what the fundraiser is about, right? Raising money for the organization?”

“While I’m sure they’d appreciate a donation,” Gladys says icily, “this is about rescuing your image. Our image. As I’m sure you’re aware, the CEO of Langley Enterprises is the face of the company.”

Alfred nods. “And right now, that face looks like a heartless bastard bent on throwing helpless people out of their homes in the name of progress.” His lips twitch merrily. “Not that any of us would actually believe that about you.”

It’s official now. I’m going to lose a molar by the end of this meeting from clenching my teeth so hard. “Of course not,” I seethe while the rest of the board mumbles amongst themselves. I have more enemies, or at least doubters, than I thought.

“We’ve already told Willow you’re going to go help out.” Gladys smiles, recovering her good spirits. “It will take so much off her plate to have someone as gifted as you with scheduling and resource allocation assisting with this fundraiser.”

I take several deep breaths, then pull out my phone. I bring up my calendar and frown. “I suppose I could pencil her in three weeks from today at two o’clock?—”

“Oh no,” Alfred interrupts me, chuckling as if I’ve missed the joke. “You don’t seem to understand. You’re going to be meeting her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I repeat, staring incredulously at him.

“Yes. It’s all arranged.”

My eye tics. I try very, very hard to rein in my temper. Only this time, it doesn’t work. “Did you not consult Rhonda about my schedule?” I thunder. “I don’t do things tomorrow! I’m extremely busy. I’ll need at least a week’s advanced notice and that’s only because I’m being generous.”

The board members begin glancing at each other. I realize I’ve put another nail in my coffin. Alfred is pleased as punch.

“Temper, temper,” he tsks. “And some of us wonder how you could have been caught out like that by a reporter.”

I imagine popping his balding head like a pimple.

Instead, I take a steadying breath. “I have a company to run. I can’t just go gallivanting off to take care of someone else’s fundraiser.

Now, if it’s money they need, that’s fine.

If I need to make an appearance at this Silver-something fundraiser, fine, I’ll…

make it work. But I can’t just drop everything to?—”

“You can. And you will.” Alfred puffs up his chest as he draws himself up in his chair.

Given the man’s head tops out at my shoulder, that’s not very high.

But he manages to make it look imposing, especially with his cronies around him.

“You are the face of this company, and right now, you’ve gotten quite a lot of egg on it.

You need to fix this, Damien, or we will find someone who will. ”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask coldly.

He shrugs. “Frankly, not all of us think you should be the CEO of Langley Enterprises. We think maybe you should take a very early retirement and hand the reins over to someone more public-friendly.”

“Who? You?” With your combover flapping in the breeze? I don’t say that part aloud because apparently, I need to work on my temper.

“Not necessarily. It wouldn’t be your decision to make, anyway, if we ousted you,” Alfred replies.

“So, now we’re talking about ousting me?” I growl.

I can tell the majority—albeit a small majority—of the board aren’t quite onboard with this. Alfred knows it, too. He holds up his hands placatingly.

“I’m just saying, you have yet to show us that you can be more than a gruff taskmaster. You get a lot done, don’t get me wrong, but you don’t exactly exude the image we want to be the public face of Langley Enterprises. We’re giving you the opportunity to turn that around. Do you understand?”

I understand all right. My nuts are in a vice and Alfred Rothchild is twisting the handle. “I suppose I can meet with her tomorrow if I have Rhonda move a few things around,” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest. “But this cannot take up too much of my time. I have a schedule to keep.”

Alfred smirks at me. “We would so hate to mess up your precious schedule,” he simpers.

The hell he does. It occurs to me that I could pull Alfred’s photo from our files and put it up in our seldom used game room at the mansion, right over the dartboard. It might be a great stress reliever for me.

“We just want you to demonstrate to the world that you, and by extension, Langley Enterprises, is not a heartless, corporate monster,” Gladys explains.

“Would it really be too difficult for you to spend some time helping others in the name of salvaging the company image and keeping Guardian Productions our client?”

I’m pretty sure it might just kill me, but I don’t say that. Instead, I grit my teeth into something I hope resembles a congenial smile. “You’re right, of course. I would be happy to restore the company’s image and restore Guardian Production’s faith in us. It is my job, after all.”

“Damien, we really are counting on you,” Gladys says.

“Will I be kissing babies and helping old ladies across the street as well?” I ask sweetly.

Gladys’s face falls.

“Helping the old ladies, probably. It wouldn’t be bad PR for you to kiss a few babies as well,” Alfred muses. “But we could do without the sarcasm.”

“I already attend plenty of charity events,” I point out. “And donate regularly to several worthy causes. You don’t see that rag reporting on that.”

Gladys sighs heavily. “It’s because you’re not actually digging in and getting your hands dirty.

Every CEO on the planet donates money and shows up in a suit to this or that fundraiser.

It’s not newsworthy. We need the good PR if we’re going to keep Guardian Productions.

They’re talking about opening an amusement park in Florida based on their most successful children’s films. You can’t tell me you don’t want a piece of that.

If we can’t even keep a contract to build some office buildings and studios, we’re certainly not going to be tapped to build an amusement park.

And Silver Hearts is a worthy organization.

It also supports the image we need—you keeping people in their houses rather than taking them away. ”

“I know you’ll do just great, Damien,” Alfred says, clapping me on the shoulder from where he’s sitting to my left.

He’s expecting me to fail. I look around the table and realize almost all of them are. The ones sitting on the fence who are not quite with Alfred yet are planning to use this as a test.

“Thanks, Alfred,” I respond, baring my teeth again in a tight smile his way. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

“I know you are,” he snickers.

I stand. “Well, if there’s nothing else, it seems I need to rearrange my schedule a bit. Can we call this meeting adjourned?”

The board nods. Others begin rising.

Alfred leans down to get his briefcase and his combover flops completely over to the other side of his head like a dead animal, revealing a shiny, oily, bare scalp.

“Oh, Alfred?” I say.

He hits his head on the bottom of the table as he jerks to his feet. “Ouch!” He glowers at me. “Yes, Damien?”

“Your hair’s trying to escape again.” I give him the first genuine smile I’ve given anyone on the board the entire meeting.

His eyes widen and he drops his briefcase to quickly pat down his hair.

I turn on my heel without a word and stalk toward my office. I need to have a word with Rhonda.