Chapter 7

With Cindy engrossed online, Liza ducked into the shower, something she should've done the moment she arrived home to scrub off the lingering smell of Wade's aftershave.

Maybe that was why she hadn't? Because the moment she towelled off, slipped on her skinny jeans and a turquoise long-sleeved T, and padded into the kitchen to say bye to Shar, she missed his evocative crisp citrus scent.

Irrational? Absolutely, but it wasn't every day an amazingly hot guy left his designer aftershave imprinted on her skin.

The perky hum died in her throat as she caught sight of Shar waving a stack of messages at her.

‘These are for you.'

Liza raised an eyebrow. ‘All of them?'

Shar nodded. ‘I didn't want to bombard you when you first came in.'

‘More like you wanted the gossip and knew those would distract me.'

‘That, too.' Shar grinned and handed them over. ‘Looks like some editor from Qu Publishing is mighty persistent.'

Liza groaned. ‘Can't those morons get a life and stop badgering me?'

‘Doesn't look like it.' Shar pointed to the message slips in her hand. ‘All those are from her.'

‘No way.'

Liza flicked through the lot, twelve in all. Nine yesterday when she'd been out in the afternoon and later at the party, three while she'd been in the shower this morning.

‘She said she'd call back in ten minutes.'

‘Like hell.' Liza stomped over to the trash and dumped the lot. ‘I'm sick to death of being pestered by this mob and I'm going to put a stop to it.'

Shar punched the air. ‘You go, girl.'

Liza grinned. ‘While I'm kicking some publisher butt, maybe you should stop watching daytime reality TV?'

‘Cheeky.' Shar shooed her away. ‘You've got an hour before I need to leave, so hop to it.'

Liza didn't need to be told twice.

No way, no how, would she ever sell her story. Cindy needed to be protected at all costs and the last thing Liza wanted was a bunch of strangers reading about their lives and intruding.

They would, she had no doubt. There would be book tours and blog tours and a social media explosion if she revealed everything about her life to date. It was why these Qu Publishing vultures were hounding her. They knew a bestseller when they saw it.

Laughable, really, because what would they say if they knew the truth, that she'd invented a fake life to protect her real one? That every event, every lash extension, every designer gown, had fitted a deliberate persona she'd cultivated to get what she wanted.

Lifelong security for her little sister.

And when her financial adviser called today and gave her the good news about her investments maturing, she could put away her lash curler and hair straightener forever.

Yeah, the sooner she set this publisher straight, the better.

She yanked on black knee-high boots and shrugged into a sable leather vest with fake fur collar. While being a WAG had been a pain, some of the perks, like the gorgeous designer clothes she got to keep on occasion, had been great.

She'd miss the clothes. She wouldn't miss the rest.

Time to hang up her stilettos and set the record straight.

Wade strode into the boardroom with five minutes to spare, then spent the next thirty listening to a bunch of boring agenda items that could've been wrapped up in half that time.

He wished they'd cut to the chase. The future of Qu Publishing depended on a bunch of old fuddy-duddy's that wouldn't know a profit margin if it jumped up and bit them on the ass. The members of the board were old school, had been best buddies with his dad and, in turn, were ‘rather fond of his delightful wife Babs.'

When the chairman had articulated that little gem at the party last night, Wade wanted to hurl. Was he the only guy who could see through her fake wiles?

By the board's decision to back Babs in her quest to sell Qu Publishing? Hell yeah.

He knew it would take a monumental effort to save this company. From the accounts down to the staff, Qu needed a major overhaul. And to do that they needed a cash injection, in the form of a mega bestseller.

Which reminded him, he needed to sign that WAG to a contract today. He'd up the ante with a massive cash injection from his own pocket, a hefty six-figure sum she couldn't refuse. From what he'd heard in snippets from memos, her sordid tale would be a blockbuster. Serial WAG dated an international soccer star and a basketball player, a media darling from magazines to TV, a practised socialite who'd appeared everywhere in Australia from all reports.

He couldn't care less if she'd dated the entire soccer team and what she'd worn to do it, but that kind of gossip drivel made the average reader drool. And sold books.

Thankfully, his company had branched out into the lucrative young adult market and were making a killing, but Qu readers expected factual biographies so no use getting too radical when he'd probably only have a few months tops to save the company.

Yeah, he needed to get that WAG to sign ASAP. He'd get straight onto it, once this meeting wound up.

‘And now, gentlemen, we come to the last item on the agenda.' The chairman cleared his throat and glared at Wade as if he'd proposed they collectively run down Bourke Street naked. ‘As you've seen from the proposal Mr Urquart Junior emailed us yesterday, he wants to give the company three months to see if it can turn a healthy profit.'

Wade bristled at the emphasis on junior. He'd paid his dues in this company in his younger days, and had done a hell of a lot more in London where his business was booming compared to this languishing one.

Thoughts of the disparity saddened him and pricked his guilt as nothing else could. If he hadn't been so pig-headed, so stubborn, so distrustful, he could've helped his dad while he had the chance. Could've done a lot more too, such as mend the gap between them that he'd created. A regret he'd have to live with for the rest of his life. A regret that would be appeased once he saved Qu.

‘To do this, he proposes Qu Publishing will have a New York Times bestseller on its hands within the year, along with an accompanying publicity blitz in the form of social media, television, and print ads.'

A titter of unease echoed around the conference table and Wade squared his shoulders, ready for the battle of his life. No way would he let Babs win. She'd made a laughing stock out of his dad; damned if he sat back and let her do the same to his dad's legacy.

‘We usually put agenda items like this to a vote.' The chairman steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the table like a presiding judge. ‘But I don't think it's necessary in this case.'

Wade clenched his hands under the table. Pompous old fools. ‘Gentlemen, if you'd let me reiterate my proposal—'

‘That won't be necessary, Wade.'

The chairman's use of his first name surprised, but not as much as his dour expression easing into a smile. ‘Every member here knew your father and respected what he achieved with this company. But times are tough in the publishing industry. The digital boom has hit our print runs hard and readers aren't buying paperbacks or hardbacks like they used to. Economically, it makes sense to sell.'

Wade opened his mouth to respond and the chairman held up his hand. ‘But we admire what you've achieved with your company in London. And we like your ambition. It reminds us of your father. So we're willing to give you three months to turn this company around.'

Jubilant and relieved, Wade nodded. ‘Thanks for the opportunity.'

‘We understand the profits won't soar until we have that promised bestseller on our hands, but if you can prove to us we'll have that guaranteed hit with buyers' pre-orders in three months, we won't vote with Babs to sell Qu. Got it?'

‘Loud and clear.' Wade stood, ready to hit the ground running.

His first task? Get that WAG to sign on the dotted line. ‘Thanks, gentlemen, you won't be sorry.'

He'd make sure of it.