Page 73 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

Chapter Forty-six

Jordan

On the eighteenth floor of Chicago’s Peninsula Hotel, Jordan stood facing the open lacquered wood doors in the bedroom closet of her executive suite.

Her luggage had been carefully arranged by housekeeping, and her favorite business attire was perfectly placed on hangers.

She reached a freshly manicured brown hand in front of her to pull down her red Valentino pantsuit that was a perfectly tailored fit.

On the floor of the closet were the black patent-leather Louboutin stilettos that took her frame instantly from a million bucks to a billion.

She envisioned herself walking tall and confident into Gibsons Steakhouse, as old school and stodgy as it got in Chicago, where the real money showed up for dinner and the big deals were cut over white fabric tablecloths ensconced within the carved mahogany walls.

And the brown of the wood and the service staff was about all the dark brown you’d expect to see in that place.

But tonight, Jordan Armstrong would be walking in to make one hell of an impression.

She had already done her research on Dominion Communications’ chairman of the board, Charles Farmer, who, according to Forbes, had a net worth of $23 billion.

He’d served as the company’s board chairman for the last five years.

He was a serial entrepreneur and most recently had sold a telecom company to Verizon.

Jordan studied herself in the floor-length mirror, measuring herself up to the moment before her.

She had not only researched Charles, but also every member of the board of directors, along with its current executive leadership team.

Especially the latter since they would all be reporting to her if she decided to take this position.

She’d already found pictures of Charles ringing the bell at the New York Stock Exchange, images of him at the White House attending a state dinner, and pictures at the groundbreaking for a research wing at his alma mater, of course named after his family.

In fact, their dinner tonight was set for thirty minutes after the landing of his flight in from New York, which of course meant that his flight was also on his plane.

Seeing herself in the mirror, all suited up, Jordan felt almost giddy, almost like her old self.

She enjoyed that rush of power, of confidence, of feeling like the world was at her fingertips.

Her eyes sparkled between the flowing waves of her highlighted hair, split down the middle.

Should I cut my hair? she wondered. Sure, “casual beach waves” Jordan was a carefree version of her, but as her dad had said, the short hair was the power move.

Had she become too soft? At least this job would give her plenty of money, more money than I could ever spend, she thought.

It’d be money, plus stock options, hours on the corporate jet, legacy.

And a lot of hours of work. Her mom would be concerned, of course.

She never trusted Jordan’s decisions, although, all of Jordan’s decisions had been great. All except one.