Annihilate Me (Vol. 3) (The Annihilate Me Series) (9 page)

“I think I’ve lost it.”

“I’m not joking.
 
You haven’t even had a taste of what’s to come.
 
In all of the rags, you either will be
celebrated or dismissed.
 
The
dismissals will often be cruel, especially in the blogs, which is where they
vilified Diana.
 
But you’ll also be
celebrated.
 
Can you handle that
kind of dichotomy?”

This man was far smarter and savvier than I had realized.
 
He surprised me.
 
“I don’t know.”

“Because in what you’re wearing tonight?
 
It’s coming tomorrow.
 
You will be talked about.
 
It could go either way.
 
You need to know that.”

“Did Bernie and Blackwell set me up?”

“No.
 
Never.
 
That’s not who they are.
 
They see this as elevating you.
 
You’ll get the press they want, but the
undercurrent is what Wenn wants—the exposure and the deals you’re working
on.
 
It’s a win-win if it
works.
 
I think they’ve totally set
you up to win and to become a known commodity in this town.
 
That’s their goal.
 
I don’t think you get it,
Jennifer.
 
You’re on the verge of
becoming famous in this set.”

“Now I’m beyond rattled.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I need to be around straight shooters, Tank.
 
I’m grateful for your insight and your
honesty.
 
Now, I just need to get
through tonight and not disappoint.
 
Apparently, I need to perform.”

“Would a martini help to stave off any anxiety?”

“You know it would.
 
But I need to be careful.
 
I
need to think clearly.
 
Two
martinis is my max for the entire evening.
 
Period.
 
I will
not drink more than that.
 
I know
my limits.
 
Please make sure that
if any drinks are sent my way that you intercept them as discreetly as
possible.”

“How about if I get you the first one?”

“I’d love that.
 
Can you have one?”

“I never drink on duty.
 
Ever.”

“How about a martini glass filled with super-chilled water and
a twist of lemon to make it look like you’re joining me?”

“That I can do,” he said.
 
“But if it gets in the papers, you’ll need to explain it to Mr. Wenn.”

“You’re covered,” I said.
 
“Let’s get a drink.
 
Or get
me a drink.
 
You can have Aquafina.
 
Or whatever it is they’re serving here
tonight.
 
Might be Smart Water,
which you obviously don’t need.
 
Who knows?”
 

With my cape lifted off the floor, we climbed the staircase to
the second floor, which stretched out in front of us so that I couldn’t see an
end to it—it was that deep.
 
Paneled in dark wood and warmly lit so that it flattered anyone who
needed flattering, it was packed with people.
 
In that moment before we fully entered the room, I leaned
toward Tank.
 
“Look at how many
people are here,” I said.
 
“And how
large this room is.
 
Holy God.
 
Who lives like this?”

“Peachy Van Prout does,” he said.
 
“And her parents and grandparents before her.
 
You know she inherited this from them,
don’t you?
 
They were into
sugar.
 
Still are.
 
You’ve consumed their sugar in all
sorts of things, from sodas to sauces to pasta.
 
Think about how broad a reach
that
has.
 
Watch your
cape.”

He took my hand and helped me up so I wouldn’t step on it and
trip.
 
Thankfully, I didn’t.
 
When I looked up to find the bar, I was
met with dozens of faces turned to mine.
 
I saw men looking at me and women looking at me.
 
Some not so kindly.
 
Some with a mix of surprise, lust,
distaste, dismissal, and fascination.
 
The mix of reactions was a lot to consume at once, but I needed to trust
in Blackwell and in Bernie, so I absorbed it all.
 
The worst looks I received were predictably from women,
which meant that I’d won.

Elbows nudged elbows, and more faces revealed themselves to
me.
 
Somewhere off to my left, a
camera flashed.
 
And then it
flashed again.
 
I was aware of eyes
sweeping up and down my body.
 
And
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t embarrassed by it and also a little turned on
by it.
 
To my right, I saw
Immaculata Almendarez, whose lips parted before she pressed forward through the
crowd to get a better look at me.
 
And then she glared at me.
 
It was a look that clearly said, “You don’t belong here.
 
Especially not without Alex.
 
How dare you show up among my people?”

Not wanting to disappoint her, I gave a quick flick of my arms,
and spread out my cape as if it were a pair of wings.
 
Someone’s camera flashed multiple times as I did so, and I
let my gaze burn into Immaculata’s as the cape settled around me.

“What was that?” Tank said.
 
“Are you a superhero?”

“If I was one, I’d torpedo Immaculata.”

“Who is she?”

“Sorry to be so base, but she’s a cunt.
 
I know it’s a crass word.
 
I very rarely use it.
 
But she is one.
 
Have you noticed her?”

“Who could miss her?
 
Look at her face.
 
She
obviously dislikes you.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Meaning.”

“She hates me.”

“Why?”

“Long story not worth telling.”

“So, who is she?”

“A bull,” I said.
 
“And a ruthless one.
 
In
short, she wanted Alex for her own, but he wasn’t interested in her.
 
For some reason, he was interested in
me.
 
Right now, there’s nowhere in
the world that she’d rather charge than straight at me and at this dress.”

“Well, it is red.”

“Thus the bull reference.”

“Shall I shoot to kill if she comes near you?”

We started to walk through the crowd and to the bar, which was
off to our left.
 
Along the way, I
stared Immaculate down until finally she looked away, screwed up her face, and
likely started talking shit about me with whomever would listen.
 
“And deny myself the moment I know is
coming later between us?
 
Not a
chance.
 
I’m going to savor that
moment.
 
I’m going to feast upon
it.”

“You think she’ll come at you?
 
In this crowd?”

“Especially in this crowd.
 
I’m an inferior.
 
I know that.
 
I don’t belong
here.
 
But that doesn’t mean I’ll
take her shit.”

“And that,” he said, “is why you’re nothing like Diana.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I was just starting my second and last martini of the night
when I finally saw Henri Dufort in the crowd.
 
He was not a tall man—he actually was rather short,
which is likely why I’d missed him after spending over an hour in the same spot
looking for him in the dense crowd.
 
But when there was a shift in the tide.
 
I saw him, looked at Tank, and said, “At last.
 
He’s over there.
 
I should go over.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said.
 
“Peachy has her own security team.
 
Have you noticed?”

“I haven’t.”

“She does.
 
Likely
because the French ambassador is here.
 
And I have to give it to her—she did well.
 
I’ve counted at least a dozen men and
women circling who are a mix of her security detail and the ambassador’s
detail.
 
I won’t bother pointing
them out to you.
 
Just know that
I’ve been watching them and that they’re impressive.
 
Mixing in at these sorts of events is difficult, but they’re
doing it well.
 
I’ll stay here at
the bar where I can watch over you.
 
Go introduce yourself to Dufort.
 
You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t feel fine.
 
I feel like I’m about to blow it for Alex.”

“The board wouldn’t have sent you if they thought that would
happen.
 
The deal with Streamed was
your idea, wasn’t it?”

I nodded.

“And you remember why it was a good idea?”

I didn’t hesitate.
 
“Absolutely.”

“So, what’s the issue?
 
That’s the confidence you need to bring to him.
 
Come on, Jennifer.
 
I know that dealing with someone alone
is out of your wheelhouse, but I remember when Alex was just starting out when
his parents died.
 
He rose to the
occasion and got the deal.”

“I’m not here to make a deal.
 
I’m here to keep things moving and to answer his questions.”

“Even better.
 
Do
that.
 
Now, go.”

I put my martini down on the bar, held my cape in such a way
that neither I nor anybody else could possibly step on it, and walked through
the crowd.
 
A server stopped beside
me with a silver tray filled with glistening flutes of beautiful, bubbling
champagne and asked if I’d like a glass—I declined even though I wanted
to down one.
 
An elderly woman
touched my elbow as we passed each other and remarked on my dress:
 
“Lovely,” she said.
 
“Just gorgeous.”
 
I thanked her.
 
A moment later, I overheard one woman
saying to another that I was the woman from the
Times
.
 
“Alexander Wenn’s girl, I believe.
 
Here alone and so garish.
 
I wonder what he thinks about
that
...?”

Finally I was upon Dufort, a tanned, handsome-looking man who
had the most striking head of silver hair.
 
He was talking to a severe-looking couple who were
complaining about the cost of finding good help for their home along the
Turkish coast.
 

“It used to be pennies per hour along the Turquoise, Henri,”
the woman said, referring to that prized portion of the coast.
 
“Pennies.
 
Now they want a full dollar per hour.
 
A dollar!
 
For folding laundry and wiping up little messes!
 
It’s ridiculous.
 
Don’t they know how lucky they are to
work for us?
 
To work within such
an oasis?
 
To be fed by us?
 
You’ve been to our home, you know how
magnificent it is and these people who come from nothing—
nothing
—have
the luxury of working fourteen-hour days with us instead of spending the day
sweating it out in the slums from which they come.
 
That’s got to be worth something.
 
It’s to the point that I can’t stand any of them.
 
Three of my maids—Bilge, Erbil,
and Gülcan—are particularly impossible.
 
They’re giving Gerald and me one week to accept the new
wage, or they walk.
 
Who does that?
 
Who even speaks to us like that?
 
Like the rest of the staff, those three
also smell like shit.
 
So if they
leave, at least we’ll be rid of
that
.”

“Perhaps the extra money would help buy them soap,” Dufort
said.

“Help buy them what?”

“Soap,” he said.
 
“And maybe some laundry detergent, or new clothes, or deodorant so
they’d be less offensive to you.”
 

The woman blinked at him.
 
She moved to speak, but then blinked again.
 
A buzz went through the crowd somewhere off to my
right.
 
I saw the lights of cameras
snapping.
 
But that had happened so
often tonight—even to me, of all people—that I was beginning to
wonder if Peachy was indeed a media whore, regardless of how much I liked
her.
 
I wondered which celebrity or
person of interest was here now.
 
It didn’t matter.
 
Because,
even as the thought occurred to me, more lights started to flash as another
rush of recognition struck through the room and another media circus
began.
 
Dufort shrugged at the
woman in front of him.
 
Then he saw
me, recognized me, and excused himself from the couple, saying that he would
catch up with them later.
 

He turned to me and kissed me on each cheek.

“Jennifer,” he said.
 
“Perfect timing.
 
Sorry you
had to hear that.”

“Mr. Dufort,” I said when he pulled away from me.
 
“Sorry I arrived at such a complicated
time.”

“It’s Henri.
 
And
please.
 
Those two roll around in
drama like pigs in shit.
 
They are
among the richest and cheapest people I know.
 
I only interact with them and tolerate them because of
business.
 
Otherwise, I’d drop them
in a second.”
 
He stood back and
looked at me.
 
“I already know that
you’re smart,” he said.
 
“May I
also say that you’re beautiful?”

I blushed at the compliment, but I knew better than to deflect
it, so I accepted it.
 
“I don’t
think any woman would object to that.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.
 
That’s some dress.
 
I bet no
one here knows what to do with you.”

“I’ve caught a few curious looks.”

“I’ll bet.
 
And
some envious ones, too.”
 

“And maybe even more perplexed ones.
 
With this cape, I feel like a superhero, Henri.
 
It’s a bit much.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be?
 
Look around you.
 
What isn’t
a bit much?”

I laughed.
 
“You have
a point.”

“Who cares what this crowd thinks?
 
I certainly don’t.
 
You shouldn’t either.
 
They’re just people, Jennifer.
 
Same blood, same organs.
 
They’re people with money and a certain amount of influence, sure.
 
But most of the crowd you see around you
is incestuous and too many of them are idiots.
 
Believe me.”

“I don’t pretend to know much about this crowd.
 
I came from nothing.”

“So?”

“I have nothing on these people.”

“What does that even mean?
 
Look around you.
 
Most of what you see here is inherited money.
 
These people don’t know their ass from their monthly
stipends, which mostly were earned by their great grandfathers.
 
Not them.”

I didn’t know much about Henri personally.
 
But he was being so caustic about those
around him that I knew there had to be a reason.
 
On the sly, he was telling me something about himself.
 
I went with my gut instinct and decided
to open that door.
 
“Forgive me if
I’m wrong, but I get the sense that you worked your way to the top.
 
Did you?”

“From the ground up.
 
Just as you will.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, we’ll see.
 
All of us will see.
 
You’ve
got a light in your eyes.
 
I know
that light.
 
I still have it
myself.
 
It’s called
‘determination.’
 
It’s called ‘Get
the fuck out my way.’”

I totally had misjudged him.
 
I thought that because he was so wealthy that he was going
to be arrogant and difficult.
 
I
thought the same of Peachy.
 
But
that was far from the case with both of them.
 
And a lesson learned.
 
“Where did you begin?” I asked.

He held out his hands and then placed one over his heart.
 
“As a poor child born to the streets of
Paris.”

I laughed at his charm.
 
“I meant in business.”

“Oh, that.
 
Well,
that’s a long story, so I’ll give you the abbreviated version.
 
I worked hard, I got lucky, I kept
working hard, I got screwed, I worked harder, I got lucky, I got sucker
punched, I got screwed again, I was poor again, I pulled myself back up, I
fought, I won, I lost, I won, and so on.
 
I’m not being glib.
 
That’s
pretty much how it went.
 
But with
each failure, I learned.
 
I
absorbed what went wrong and I told myself I’d never be duped that way
again.
 
Most don’t analyze their
failures or take the time to fathom why they happened.
 
But they don’t get it.
 
Understanding why they happened and not
making the same mistake twice is the key.”

He smiled at me.
 
I
was surprised by how likable he was.
 
Maybe that was a major factor in his success—putting people at
ease.
 
The last time I saw him, he
was seated in a gilded throne and people were coming to him en masse, practically
kneeling at his feet.
 
That night,
it was as if he was a Christ-like figure.
 
But now, after listening to him talk to me at my level, I had to wonder
why he’d put on that kind of an outrageous show.
 
Maybe that’s what people saw in him.
 
Maybe that’s what they expected from
him.
 
Maybe that’s what he felt he
needed to give to them.
 
Who
knew?
 
Regardless, I was not
expecting this person.
 
He was open
and kind in a culture that didn’t always embrace either.

“I’ve been eager to see you tonight,” he said.
 
“Especially when I learned that merging
Streamed with Wenn Entertainment was your idea.
 
It’s a brilliant idea.”

“I think the possibilities are encouraging.”

“To say the least.
 
Ever since Alex approached me with the idea, my team has been doing
research and we are beyond encouraged.
 
If we move quickly, I think we have a chance to make an impact wherever
Netflix and other competitors don’t yet have a stronghold.”
 

“I did my own research and I agree.
 
You already have the technology in place, which I believe is
universal?”

“With very few exceptions, it is.
 
I’ve been told that getting it ready to go global would take
my team of engineers and programmers only a few months, which is quick.”

“Quicker than I expected.
 
Wenn has the contacts that can help to ease your way into those
countries where you might need assistance.
 
Together, you and Wenn could join forces and, with each
other’s assistance, build the necessary infrastructure to succeed.
 
I don’t think it’s too late to have a
successful go at this.”

“Everything is going digital now.
 
Netflix owns the States.
 
Fine.
 
Good for
them.
 
But really and as you know,
it’s a global market.
 
Turn to
Apple, for instance.
 
How does the
world buy its music now?
 
In
stores?
 
Of course not.
 
And then we look at Amazon and see how
they’re changing how we buy books.
 
More and more people are buying them online for electronic reading
devices or tablets.
 
The States
always will be ahead of the rest of the world, which gives us an edge.
 
It gives us something of a litmus test
for the rest of the world.
 
Don’t
you agree?”