“Mark?”
“Yes, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Circulation is down again…” Although he didn’t need to, Mac flicked through the notes in front of him for effect, already understanding the situation perfectly. “By more than two point eight million in the last six months. This is unacceptable.
“Reason?”
Truth be known, he never had taken to Mark Springer. So it wasn’t an arduous task to put the guy on the spot and watch him squirm, especially after what he’d heard from the hidden microphones secreted around the boardroom.
“I’m waiting.”
Springer shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, and when Mac glanced at Kendall he saw a satisfaction on her face that suggested she enjoyed Mark’s discomfort as much as he did.
“Still waiting.”
“Well, Mr. Buchanan, it’s…it’s…”
“Spit it out, man.”
“It’s the recession. People just haven’t got the money.”
Prick.
“What’s my motto, Mark? You know it. With the exception of Kendall, everyone sitting around this table knows it.”
He watched his editor lower his head submissively and squirm some more. “Reasons, not excuses, Mr. Buchanan.”
“And what have you just given me?”
“Well…”
“Pardon me?”
“Excuses, sir.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Don’t let the circulation be down for a seventh month in succession, Mark. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
“Yes, Mr. Buchanan. I understand completely.”
Not only did Mark Springer sit with his head bowed, but so did Dave Watson and Steve Johnson. In fact, the only two people sitting around the boardroom table that didn’t were Marcy and his new financial controller, Kendall Van Heusen.
Marcy’s pretty yet overmade up face wore an expression that showed intense satisfaction. She didn’t like these guys any more than he did, and although he’d employed her as his personal assistant for more than six years, he still didn’t trust her enough to confide that the boardroom was bugged. However, despite her often ditzy behavior, Marcy was sufficiently intelligent to know that Mark Springer in particular spoke about her in derisory terms whenever her back was turned. He guessed she saw it as payback for his disrespect, and as her boss, he was happy to oblige.
Kendall’s demeanor was subtly different from that of Marcy’s. Although he saw that same satisfaction in her stunning blue eyes, there was something else, too. Her penetrating gaze was fixed solely on him, and he felt they connected on a level that simply hadn’t existed when he’d walked into the boardroom some twenty minutes before. Her flawless complexion had taken on a translucent quality, which he found sexy in the extreme, making his cock harden again. As he returned her gaze, he noticed her sexy full lips lay slightly parted as though she couldn’t quite take in enough air, causing her ample breasts to heave within the tight confines of her dull gray business suit.
Clearly, the lady was sexually aroused. He guessed it was the total domination of his editor that had caused her to display such overtly sexual body language. After all, women from all walks of life were hardwired to be attracted to the Alpha male in any group. Men were the same, hardwired from birth to be attracted to women with curves—those best equipped to produce fine strong children—and Kendall had these attributes in abundance. It had been this way since the dawn of time, and no amount of politically correct bullshit that was so prevalent these days would change that simple fact.
Keeping employees in line was an essential skill he’d learned early on. He’d used domination as a business tool when he’d taken control of his first failing newspaper, almost fifteen years ago. His upbringing, no, strike that, he’d cared for himself since he was just a kid, and that meant that everything he’d achieved in life had been through his own sweat, toil, and endeavor, and yes, if he’d had to break a few heads along the way, then so be it. That was life as it existed. It should be fair, but it wasn’t. Well, live with it, pal, because that was what he’d had to do from an early age. The strong survived, and the weak fell by the wayside. End of story.
Satisfied that he controlled all before him, Mac leisurely scanned the boardroom and its occupants once again. Mark Springer still sat with his head bowed. He would occasionally look up, but would immediately stare at the floor again as soon as eye contact had been reestablished. Perhaps the guy would learn to keep his big mouth shut in future. There was an old saying, “Those who speak the most, often have the least to say.” This applied to his editor, soon to be former editor if he didn’t improve circulation figures by the next meeting.
Steve Johnson’s posture was as submissive as Mark’s, and rightly so. He was married with two kids and a big mortgage. If he had the sense he was born with, he wouldn’t rock the boat. Dave Watson was cast from the same die. Twin teenage daughters at the exclusive Roedean School, and a gold digger of wife who liked expensive things. Designer dresses and shoes in particular. Cindy Watson wasn’t adverse to three or four European vacations each year, either. Rome, Madrid, London, she, along with her selfish prick of a husband, would regularly frequent the finest restaurants in all of these far-off places. Yeah, the editor of the Philadelphia Bugle was no threat either, and he kept his head respectfully lowered. These guys had benefited from an education he could only dream of. Not one of them had had to deal with life as he had. Raw, hard, and uncaring. However, jealousy didn’t consume his every thought. In some ways the life he lived before becoming a newspaperman was an advantage. His formative years meant he wasn’t afraid of anything in this fucked-up world. By comparison, he was in no doubt that his soft-bellied editors would crumble should they lose their jobs, and therefore their extravagant lifestyles.
Mac finally broke the silence by nonchalantly saying, “I think we’re done for today. Thank you for coming.” He saw the palpable relief, especially upon the worry-lined faces of his editors. However, as they started to rise from the boardroom table, he had one final trick left in his armory. “Dave?”
The guy looked worried and so he should. “I haven’t gotten around to your circulation figures today.”
“No, sir, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Be in my office first thing Monday morning. We’ll discuss your poor performance in more detail.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Along with your…future here at Buchanan Enterprises.”
“My…”
“You heard correctly. My office, Monday, seven a.m. sharp. Enjoy your day.” He wouldn’t fire the guy this month, but it didn’t hurt to keep him on his toes. There was always a raft of eager young editors ready and willing to take the place of guys like Dave Watson who’d become flabby and complacent. Like he always said, no one is indispensable.
As Kendall pushed her chair back from the boardroom table and stood, he realized she was taller, and therefore more achingly slender than he’d first imagined. With her heels he reckoned she stood about five ten. Nice. Although his initial one-hundred-and-twenty-pound estimate of her weight remained the same.
“Kendall?”
She turned and stared expectantly at him. “Yes, Mr. Buchanan?” Her voice had that slight husky quality that he’d always found sexy.
“I’d like you to stay behind, please.”
“Certainly, Mr. Buchanan.”
As his three disgraced editors scuttled from the boardroom as quickly as their legs and well-established paunches would allow, followed closely by Marcy, Mac savored Kendall’s stunning appearance once more. She stood about twelve feet from him, and at this distance, just the slightest hint of her expensive perfume remained.
Her elegantly manicured brows lifted slightly. Were those anxiety tells that fleetingly registered on her beautiful face?
“Has my work been unsatisfactory in any way, Mr. Buchanan?”
Mac liked the glimpse of vulnerability that briefly surfaced, but decided to put her at ease, for now. “No, no, honey, your work is just fine.” He gestured with an open hand, encouraging her to take the chair next to his. “I don’t bite. Sit down, relax. I’m not going to chew you out. I just thought we could take a little time to get to know one another better. That’s all.”
She smiled, and he saw her demeanor visibly lighten as she walked toward him, not once relinquishing eye contact. The closer she came, the more impressive her beauty. Her sheer elegance impressed him, walking, or should that be seeming to float across the boardroom floor without any apparent effort. As she glided toward him, her head remained perfectly still, her posture proud and upright. In the short time it took her willowy yet surprisingly womanly frame to occupy the chair next to his, he already knew he wanted to get to know this lady better, much better.
Her full, succulent lips were further enhanced by a sexy red lipstick, and he adored the way her tongue snaked out to apply moisture to their sensuous curves.