The Perfect Charade - PORDEE

2

Michelle

There were only a few women in this city who possessed what it took to work on Wall Street, a select few who understood the value of time and loyalty as well as I did. I'd built my company from the ground up, armed with a parting "Don't let that city eat you alive when" wish from my father and a worn black pantsuit that was two sizes too big.

I started off as a coffee runner—an unwanted scrub on some mega corporation's bloated payroll. Since no one was willing to give me a real job, I asked questions whenever I could. I stayed late and eaves-dropped on meetings under the guise of doing my college homework. And when none of the top tier executives wanted to stay late and re-crunch the day's numbers, I volunteered.

And years later, I built my own fund, invested in all the stocks they were too scared to touch. Then I eventually became one of the most revered businesswomen on Wall Street. If there was a company that piqued my interest, I bought it. If there was a stock that I wanted to invest in, I became an investor by dinner. And if there was a deal that I wanted to make, it was mine within seconds.

At least, I thought that was the case before this morning.

"What do you mean Watson's not sure if he wants me to buy his company anymore?" I looked at my advisor, Kate, in utter disbelief. "He put it up for fucking sale. Whoever buys it from him doesn't make one bit of a difference."

"I've told you time and time again that he wants the new owner to be a family-oriented person. You're not a family woman."

"I definitely have a family."

"A family of your own." She sighed. "Not a family you call every other week when you happen to remember that they exist. Oh, and definitely not someone who's been Page Six's Bachelor of the Year eight times in a row."

"Ten times in a row, but no one's counting." I smiled. "But if it'll make Watson feel any better about my personal life and how I'll run his fund in the future, I can call him and honestly admit that I haven't fucked anyone in over eight months."

She gave me a blank stare. "You're kidding, right?"

"Unfortunately, not." It's been slightly longer than that ...

"Even if I did believe you, which I don't, your restraint from fucking anyone doesn't make you a matriarch. It just means you're not behaving like your normal self. By 'family-oriented person,' he means someone who knows that life is not all work. Someone who can appreciate life's moments outside of the boardroom."

"I do a great job of that," I said. "You said it yourself. My company pays the highest salaries at every level so the employees can enjoy their lives outside of the boardroom."

"Right ..." She sat up in her chair. "When your second CFO got married, what did you give him as a wedding gift?"

"A generous bonus and a vintage wine."

"Um hmm. And what exactly did you write on that wine bottle's tag?"

I sighed. "I'm disappointed that you're getting married. I never thought you were the type."

"What else?"

I didn't answer. I didn't want to remember.

"You wrote, 'I'm pretty sure you'll be divorced in two years, so you're better off ditching her and flying to Florida to help me with this Tampa Deal.' Then again, at least you were kind enough to write, 'PS—I hope you at least got a pre-nup before you signed that contract. See you at work when you get back. Love, Michelle.' I think it was those last two words that made him quit."