Mistress of the Game

chapter Twenty
THE DAWN OF THE NEW MILLENNIUM USHERED IN A PERIOD of great change in the business world. Companies that had once been seen as untouchable giants began to disintegrate, outpaced by minuscule dot-com start-ups. Greed was still the name of the game. But the rules of the game had changed.

On April 8, 1999, former housewares salesman Craig Winn became a billionaire...for a day or two. When his three-year-old Internet startup, Value America, went public, the stock price veered wildly from $23 a share to almost $75 a share, before settling at $55. The forty-five-year-old Winn went to bed that night with a paper fortune of $2.4 billion. Not bad for a company that had never made a profit - and never would.

Within a year, the share price had fallen to two dollars. Over half of Value America's employees had been fired and investors had lost millions. In August 2000, the company filed for bankruptcy.

In boardrooms across America, CEOs of what were now termed "old-economy" companies - giants like Kruger-Brent - watched these developments with dismay. Everything was changing. While the dot-com boom burned itself out in a spectacular fireball of ignorance and greed, the sands of world power were also shifting. China and India were on the up. The dollar began to falter. In investment banking and pharmaceuticals, two of Kruger-Brent's key profit sectors, companies were merging and acquiring one another faster than the analysts could keep up. In banking, many of the great names of the 1980s - Salomon Brothers, Bankers Trust, Smith Barney - disappeared literally overnight, swallowed up by bigger, often foreign, rivals. In pharmaceuticals, the likes of Glaxo and Ciba faded as new brands like Aventis and Novartis emerged. In car manufacturing, Ford went on an acquisition spree, buying Volvo and Mazda and Aston Martin, then turned on a dime and began selling, first Jaguar then Land Rover. Meanwhile, the prices of oil and land - real estate - continued to rise like floodwater. Every year, every month, economists predicted a correction, but it never seemed to come. Banks fell over themselves to offer cheap credit, pouring gas onto the flames of an already overheated market.

They were exciting times. And dangerous times. For Peter Templeton, it was all too much. In 2006, he retired quietly to Dark Harbor, alone at last with the memories of his beloved Alexandra. His departure caused barely a ripple in the market. Everybody knew that Peter had never been more than a puppet chairman of Kruger-Brent. Tristram Harwood quietly took the helm and corporate life continued much as before.

As head of Kruger-Brent's oil-and-gas division, Tristram Harwood had spent the past decade playing solitaire on his computer while his group's assets quadrupled in value. He applied the same sit-back-and-do-nothing philosophy to his chairmanship. After all, it was only going to last for three years.

In three years' time, the two Blackwell heirs, Max Webster and Lexi Templeton, turned twenty-five. According to the terms of Kate Blackwell's will, twenty-five was the age when one of them would take control of Kruger-Brent.

The general assumption was that that person would be Max.

But in the new economic world order, assumptions were made to be broken.

Within a week of starting work in the Internet division, Max knew he had made a mistake. During the summer of his and Lexi's last internships, it had looked like the Internet sector was about to enter into a second period of rapid growth. Real estate, by contrast, was long overdue a correction. This combined with the fact that it had always been one of Kruger-Brent's least dynamic businesses was what had prompted him to railroad Lexi into it.

Unfortunately, by the time the cousins graduated from business school and joined Kruger-Brent full-time, the market had performed another of its disconcerting backflips. Jim Bruton had done his best to stem the tide of losses. But when Max showed up for his first day at work, Kruger-Brent's Internet division was hemorrhaging money so fast, he was plunged into twenty-four-hour damage control.

Meanwhile, Lexi and August Sandford had galvanized the sleepy real-estate division and were making money hand over fist. Under August's guidance, Kruger-Brent extended its reach into Europe and Asia. While Max was locked away with auditors in a windowless office in Manhattan, Lexi was flying all over the world, to Tokyo, Paris, Hong Kong and Madrid, clinching deal after deal in property. She made sure the press knew about every one of her successes.

Lexi knew that media interest in her could be a double-edged sword. On the one hand, of course, it was flattering. When she was a teenager, paparazzi followed her everywhere. She was America's sweetheart: brave, beautiful and blessed. Her face was on the cover of countless magazines. All across the country, large numbers of baby girls were being christened Alexandra. Lexi could not remember a time when she hadn't been famous. She could not imagine what that might feel like, although she tried: to be anonymous, just another face in the crowd. Sometimes it seemed an appealing prospect.

Lexi was well aware that her fame had almost cost her her inheritance. Max had successfully used it against her, painting her to the Kruger-Brent board members as vacuous and a lightweight. It girl. Party girl. They had seemed like innocuous nicknames at first. But when Max outmaneuvered her for the Internet job, Lexi woke up with a jolt to just how damaging they could be.

I already have two strikes against me. I'm deaf. And I'm a woman. Three strikes and I'll be out.

From that day onward, Lexi worked hard to redefine her relationship with the media. Like all American heroines - all the ones who lasted, anyway - she was a mistress at the art of reinvention. Just as Madonna had gone from crucifix-wearing nymphomaniac to patron saint of Kabbalah in a heartbeat, so Party Girl Lexi was erased from America's memory and replaced by a new creation: Businesswoman Lexi. Her face was still on the covers of magazines. But instead of InStyle and Us Weekly, Lexi now gazed down from newsstands from the cover of Time and Forbes.

Max tried vainly to raise his own profile, but it was no good. He hadn't been kidnapped as a child. He hadn't fought back bravely after losing his hearing in an explosion. In America's eyes, he was just another rich, handsome trust-fund kid. Lexi was the star of the family, and her star was rising. Suddenly all the goodwill that Max had built up at Kruger-Brent in his teens seemed to count for nothing. Lexi had turned the tables, apparently without even trying. Unless something drastic changed soon, she was on course to become the firm's next chairman.

Antonio Valaperti handed Lexi a solid silver Montblanc pen and watched her sign the contract. A gratified smile spread across his face.

Such a beautiful girl. It's almost a shame to watch her signing away a fortune.

Almost...

Antonio Valaperti was the biggest property developer in Rome. Bigger even than the Mob. In his midsixties, with a vulpine face and small, watchful hazel eyes that missed nothing, he liked to boast at dinner parties that the last Roman to own as much of the city as he did was Julius Caesar. Antonio Valaperti had torn down slums and bulldozed churches. He had burrowed deep into the city's ancient earth to build parking garages, and redefined her skyline with his apartment and office buildings. Half of Rome admired him as an innovator and visionary. The other half loathed him as a vandal. Antonio Valaperti was arrogant, brilliant and ruthless. He was tight with money, but enjoyed the good things in life: fine food, fast cars, beautiful women. He did not like Americans. But in the case of Lexi Templeton, he was prepared to make an exception.

"Now that our business is concluded, bella, perhaps we can turn our minds to pleasure?"

His eyes crawled over Lexi's body like lice. She was wearing a formfitting Marchesa suit that did full justice to her voluptuous figure. Her cream silk blouse revealed the merest hint of lace detailing on her bra. Antonio Valaperti thought: She wants me. I've seen it a thousand times. She's young, but she's turned on by power. Perhaps that's why she's been so foolish with this deal? She's too concerned about getting her p-ssy licked.

Lexi watched the old man across the table and suppressed the urge to laugh out loud.

There's no fool like an old fool. He actually thinks I'm attracted to him!

After all the hype about Antonio Valaperti - the way August Sandford talked about him, you'd have thought the man had magical powers - Lexi was almost disappointed by how easy it had been to outsmart Rome's answer to The Donald. She had just sold Valaperti what he believed to be highly valuable land just south of Villa Borghese Park, in one of the city's most upscale residential areas. In fact, the forty-acre parcel was about to become all but worthless. With a few well-placed bribes, and the help of her trusty low-cut blouse - they should really put my cream silk Stella McCartney on the front page of Forbes, she thought. It's saved Kruger-Brent a lot more money on this trip than I have - Lexi had discovered that all development permits within a kilometer radius of the Spanish Steps were about to be rescinded.

Of course, it never occurred to Antonio Valaperti that an outsider, an American, might have greater access to Italy's corridors of power than he had. Especially not this pretty little slip of a girl young enough to be his daughter. Deaf, too, God bless her. Americans really did have some very strange ideas about how to run a business.

"Would that I could, Antonio. Would that I could." Every head in the restaurant of the Hotel Hassler swiveled to watch Lexi as she stood up to leave. "But I'm afraid I have pressing business in Florence tomorrow morning. I must get an early night. Good night."

Antonio Valaperti watched her leave, biting back his irritation.

Little tease. She thinks she's played me. He signaled to the waiter to bring him the check. When you find out how much that land is really worth, sweetheart, you'll see who's played whom.

Then you'll know what it feels like to get f*cked in the ass by Antonio Valaperti.

At ten o'clock the next morning, Lexi checked in to the Villa San Michele, an idyllic former monastery turned luxury hotel perched high in the Florentine hills.

I love Italy, she thought as she stepped out of her traveling clothes and into the marble-tiled shower. She'd chosen the San Michele because its high walls made it impossible for the paparazzi to disturb her there. For once in her life, Lexi felt in need of a break from all the attention and this was the perfect place to get it. Robbie had told her that Italy was astonishingly beautiful. But not even his elaborate praise had done it justice. Rome was so spectacular Lexi found she was catching her breath at every turn in the road. It was like stepping back in time. But if the Villa San Michele was anything to go by, she had a suspicion she was going to enjoy Tuscany even more.

Her triumph over Valaperti was all the sweeter because August Sandford had been so sure she would fail. Lexi herself had had her doubts. She found lip-reading much harder with foreigners, who formed English words differently, and had even considered traveling to Italy with an interpreter.

Thank God I didn't. All those cozy dinners-a-deux with Valaperti were what clinched us the deal.

Over the past year, Lexi's relationship with August had thawed, somewhat. She still thought he was arrogant and sexist. He still resented her for being Kate Blackwell's great-granddaughter. But each of them had developed a grudging respect for the other's business skills. August was flying in to Florence that night, and for once Lexi was looking forward to having dinner with him.

Maybe now he'll admit I might actually make a good chairman. That I'm as capable of running Kruger-Brent as he is.

The restaurant at the Villa San Michele spilled out onto a medieval terrace covered with thick vines. From her table, Lexi could see the formal monastery gardens with their box hedges and gravel paths. Beyond the gardens lay the distinctive terra-cotta rooftops of Florence, spread out like a blanket in the warm, rosemary-scented evening air.

It's so romantic! How much nicer it would be to be having dinner with a lover here, instead of my boss.

Lexi felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around. The smile of contentment dissolved on her face.

"What are you doing here? Where's August?"

"In Taiwan, I believe. Something came up. Have you ordered yet? I'm famished."

Max sat down and snapped his fingers imperiously for the waiter. Without looking at the menu, he rattled off his order in flawless Italian. He was speaking too fast for Lexi to make out much of what he said. But she did notice he'd asked for a two-hundred-dollar bottle of Antinori red wine, and that he'd taken it upon himself to choose food for her, too.

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here, Max?"

"We're thinking of buying an online recruitment company." His tone was casual. "Starfish. It's like a European version of Monster.com. They're based out of Florence, believe it or not."

Lexi didn't believe it. He's up to something.

Although they lived in the same city and even worked in the same building, it had actually been months since Lexi had seen Max. She traveled constantly. On the rare occasions when she was at Kruger-Brent, she didn't exactly seek out his company. Tonight he was wearing a blue open-necked shirt and black Armani suit pants. He smelled very faintly of an old-fashioned, lemon-ish cologne, and his naturally olive skin was more deeply tanned than usual. She'd forgotten how attractive he was and found herself irritated by it.

"How did it go in Rome? I gather Valaperti is a tough cantuccini."

Part of Lexi would have liked to ignore him. But the urge to boast was too strong.

"It went great. Valaperti was putty in my hands."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. I sold him that land for over a hundred million dollars."

Leaning in closer, Max signed: "Did he try to sleep with you?"

Lexi looked amazed.

"When did you learn to sign?"

Max shrugged. "I only know a few phrases, but I'm working on it. I figured, you know, we're going to be working together for a while, so I should probably make the effort."

He seems genuine. But why is he being so nice and reasonable all of a sudden?

"So did he?"

"What?"

"Try to sleep with you?"

"No! Well, kind of. Maybe a little bit." Lexi found she was smiling despite herself. "Our friend Antonio evidently thinks of himself as quite the catch."

"How old is he?"

"Sixty-five? Seventy maybe?"

"Dirty old goat."

Lexi was surprised to find she was enjoying herself. Sitting in this divine, romantic spot with her lifelong enemy, the evening seemed to be flying by.

The wine arrived, along with two Tuscan bread salads. Before long, Lexi was happily tipsy. Max kept her amused with stories of doom and gloom in the Internet division.

"The only person who's gonna get a bonus this year is whoever wins the Jim Bruton Divorce Case Sweepstakes. His wife's finally leaving him, and the whole division's put money on how much she'll get."

"That's terrible! Poor man." Lexi giggled.

"Poor man, my ass. He had two kids with another woman and never paid a cent for either of them. When you're chairman, you should fire him."

Lexi sobered up immediately. Had she read his lips correctly?

"What did you say?"

"I said when you're chairman, you should can Jim Bruton. Come on." Max stood up, gallantly offering her his hand. "Let's go inside and talk. It's getting cold out here."

The hotel lounge and bar were both full, so they went back to Lexi's junior suite. Opening onto the gardens, it had its own private terrace as well as a study and separate living room, complete with antique Italian furniture and roaring log fire. Max fixed them both a whiskey from the minibar and sat down on the couch next to Lexi.

"Look. Starfish wasn't the real reason I came here. At least, it wasn't the only reason."

Watching his lips move, Lexi felt a powerful urge to lean forward and kiss them.

I must be drunker than I thought. She put down her whiskey.

"Go on."

"I want to call a truce."

For almost a minute, Lexi was silent. The entire evening had been surreal. August's no-show, Max turning up out of thin air, his uncharacteristic charm offensive. Now he was talking about truces? Finally, she said: "Why?"

Max smiled. "I'm not going to lie to you, Lexi. I want the chairmanship as badly as you do. I always have. But I recognize that's now unlikely to happen." When Lexi didn't respond, he went on. "Kate Blackwell hated my mother. I don't know why, but she did. And I hated her for that, even though she died before I was born."

"Max."

"Let me finish. Because Kate's will tried to lock me out of Kruger-Brent, I felt I had something to prove. I didn't see why I should roll over and let them hand the company to you on a plate."

"Kate's intention was to hand it to Robbie on a plate," Lexi reminded him. "I've had to fight for a seat at the table, too, you know."

"I know. That's why I'm here." Max took her hand in his. His palm was warm and dry. Lexi felt a pulse begin to throb between her legs. It was making it hard to concentrate. She swallowed hard.

Max said: "We're not kids anymore, Lexi. It's time we both stopped acting like kids. Kruger-Brent means everything to me. Everything." There were tears in his eyes. "If...when you take control at the company, you're going to have some tough challenges ahead. You're going to need people around you that you can trust."

Trust and Max were two words that, until this moment, Lexi had never had cause to put together in a sentence. Was it possible that he really had grown up? She wanted to believe it. And yet...

"I don't know what to say. That's - that's very generous of you."

"You know our market cap dropped almost twenty percent last year." There was a flash of something that looked like anger in Max's black eyes. "Tristram Harwood's a dinosaur. He has no idea what he's doing, no vision, no game plan."

Lexi nodded quietly. "I know."

"So what do you think? Do you want to try playing on the same team for a change?"

Max's leg was touching hers. Lexi could see the outline of his thigh muscle beneath the thin cotton of his pants, lean and strong.

I think I want to see you naked.

I think I want you in my bed tonight.

I think I definitely had too much wine at dinner.

"Sure." She smiled back at him. "Why not?"

That night in bed, Lexi lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Was Max for real? If anyone had asked her that question twenty-four hours ago, she'd probably have laughed in his face. Her and Max Webster, a team? And yet he did seem sincere. She cast her mind back over the last few months at Kruger-Brent. Max had supported her in that crucial board vote over the new share issue. And he hadn't said a word about her new, larger office space. Was it possible she'd misjudged him? Or was sexual frustration clouding her judgment now?

She'd thought that the roar of her libido would fade once the effects of the alcohol wore off. But now, hours later, her leg still burned from where Max's thigh had brushed against it, and the lemon scent of his cologne lingered deliciously on her skin. Goddamn him. Why did he have to come here?

Lexi had had scores of lovers in her life. Perhaps even hundreds. But she realized tonight that none of them meant anything to her. I never wanted any of them. Not really. Deep down, it's always been Max.

Closing her eyes, she slowly moved her hands down her warm, naked body. She cupped her breasts, then let her fingertips graze the soft, flat expanse of her belly. Finally, tentatively, she began to stroke the hot, silky wetness between her legs.

She pictured Max's lips moving:

Kruger-Brent means everything to me...I want the chairmanship...but it's not going to happen.

Her fingers worked faster, more rhythmically.

I've beaten him.

I've won.

She imagined Max on top of her, inside her. She imagined them as one.

Kruger-Brent is mine.

She gasped, her body racked by a series of shudders as the orgasm ripped through her.

Oh God, Max. I want you.

From a pay phone at Taoyuan International Airport in Taiwan, August Sandford bellowed at his secretary.

"It's not good enough, Karen! I flew halfway across the world for this damn meeting, only to have Mr. Li tell me that the stupid hotel is no longer for sale."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sandford. I don't understand how the wires could have gotten crossed. His secretary confirmed the meeting to me only yesterday. She said they had another bidder and it was vital that you fly out right away."

August slammed down the receiver, too angry to speak. Thanks to this wild-goose chase, he'd had to cancel two important client meetings in Europe, not to mention his rendezvous with Lexi.

Then a strange thought struck him.

His secretary confirmed the meeting...she said they had another bidder.

August met with Mr. Li's secretary less than an hour ago.

Mr. Li's secretary was a man.

Eve called Max while he was driving.

"Did you see her?"

"Yes, Mother. I saw her."

"You played it the way we discussed?"

"Yes."

"And? Do you think she trusts you?"

Max thought about this for a moment. He remembered the way that Lexi's pupils had dilated when he took her hand; the heat when their legs had touched. There was something new between them, all right. But he wouldn't necessarily call it trust.

"I think she's starting to."

Eve sensed the hesitation in his voice. She asked him sharply: "You didn't sleep with her, did you?"

"No, Mother. Of course not."

"Good." Eve sounded mollified. "You'll have to eventually, of course. But not yet. It's too soon."

Max hung up feeling uneasy. He pictured his mother pacing their New York apartment in her silk robe, a caged tigress waiting for him to return from the hunt. Things had gone better than he'd expected with Lexi this evening. But still. His discussion with Eve last week was vividly branded in his memory. The tension in her voice, the pent-up rage coiled inside her body, ready to burst through the skin.

It's your last chance, Max. Our last chance! That bitch is going to take Kruger-Brent from us. You have to do something!

I will Mother. Don't worry. I will.

But would he? Could he?

What if he failed?

Swerving to the side of the road, he stopped the car and fumbled in the glove box. Pulling out a clear plastic pillbox and a bottle of Jack Daniel's, he swallowed four Xanax, washing them down with the raw, scorching liquor.

I won't fail you, Mother.

I promise.