Glamour (56 page)

Sally exhaled, then shrugged. “Yes. All right, then. Jane.”

“No.” Jane turned around; her eyes were red, but, like Haya, she was smiling; she rubbed the tears away from her eyes. “Sally, you said it. All these years, I’ve been fighting the fact I had nobody to love me. No father, no mother. But that was wrong. I had you two. I just couldn’t see it.” She paused. “I have succeeded in everything I’ve done.Why does it have to be the thing I started out in? Maybe I’ll go into real estate. It hardly matters. But GLAMOUR . . . GLAMOUR is special. There can only be one choice. It’s you, Sally.You who looked after both of us.You who taught us how to use being beautiful. There are a lot of skeptics out there, a lot of analysts sneering.You take it, and you show them all that being a woman isn’t some kind of choice between beauty and brains.” She grinned. “Besides, I want to trade stocks. I could use all that liquid cash.”

Sally could hardly believe it. She clapped her hands, like a kid at a birthday party. “Really? It’s mine?”

“It’s all yours,” Jane replied, and shook her hand.

The three girls came together and gave each other a hug.

“Shall we let them back in?” Haya asked, with a wink.“There are gonna be some pretty sad lawyers. All those billable hours down the drain.”

“Let’s.” Jane grinned. “Can’t wait to see the press when we announce this.What are they going to say now?”

Sally nodded, and Jane flung open the doors; the large knot of hangers-on raced back in and sat around the table.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Jane said, smiling. “The deal’s off. No public stock.”

There was uproar.

“We have arranged a private sale. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the new chairman and CEO of GLAMOUR. Ms. Sally Nelson.”

Jane got up from the head of the table and surrendered her position to her friend; as she went and sat at Sally’s seat, she felt no pain, no regret; just an open sense of joy and possibility. The future was hers; no limits, no ties.

She looked across at Haya, and saw that she felt the same way.

Sally shook out her long, glossy hair, in a delicious shimmer of gold, leaned back confidently in her chair, and glanced over the table full of dumbstruck investment advisers.

“I’m in charge, gentlemen,” she said. “So let’s get to work.”

EPILOGUE

K
ing Nazir died a day after Haya touched down in Ghada City. Jaber led the mourning, and Haya found herself a queen, mingling with royalty and heads of state at the funeral. She didn’t have much time to stand around and wonder; a week later, just before the coronation, she discovered she, too, was pregnant.

She decided to make her new role her full-time job. Haya never let a day go past without visiting some charity, and the people loved her. She founded girls’ schools across the kingdom, and worked with Jaber as a full partner on drawing up new laws to promote democracy.

She and Noor were often seen, at weekends, dropping in to the new GLAMOUR being built in Ghada City. It became the hottest store in the country.

Sally continued work up until one day before her church wedding ceremony, which was the social event of the year, and two days before she gave birth. Queen Haya attended the wedding, and was Sally’s matron of honor; Jane preferred to sit quietly in the front row. But at the birth, Jane was there, holding Sally’s hand as Chris Junior came shrieking into the world. His dad, the toughest guy in sports, had refused to come in and watch Sally moaning in pain he could do nothing to spare her from.

Sally took two months off. When she came back, she instituted flexible working hours and staffed day-care centers at every GLAMOUR store around the world. Women loved it, and the global sales soared.

“See? It’s always the good guys who finish first,” Haya told her friend.

Jane Morgan had believed that. She left the meeting at GLAMOUR smiling; for the first time in her life, it felt good to lose. She posed for pictures with Haya and Sally, Sally in the middle, the boss, the winner, and Jane didn’t mind at all.

She had other things to think about. Like starting over. And mending her heart.

When the press finally melted away, Jane headed back to her limo. She got in the backseat, slipped her sunglasses on, and sighed, a deep, personal sigh of release.

“LAX, please.”

The driver tipped his cap. “Yes, ma’am.”

She checked in, in no particular hurry. First class meant you could take the first flight that became available.

“I’m afraid we only have seat 1B available, miss. Is that okay for you?”

“That’s fine,” said Jane, even though she usually chose her own seat. She shrugged. “Everything’s fine.”

“Great,” said the flight attendant, glancing at her colleague with a sly look. “Then you’re all set. Have a great flight.”

When she boarded, Jane looked around the first-class cabin; it was empty. She spoke to the stewardess.

“I was told there was only seat 1B. . . .”

“That’s right, ma’am, all these seats are booked. Can I show you to your . . .”

But Jane was already marching up the cabin. Great, they were going to be really late, all these last-minute boarders. But she wouldn’t let something like that spoil her mood. Not now; not today . . .

At least there was one passenger . . . the back of a man’s head in seat 1A. So much for a peaceful flight. Jane grabbed her case and lifted it . . .

“Let me get that,” he said, standing and walking into the aisle.

Jane gasped; it was Craig Levin.

He took it from her, just like that first day, and hoisted it easily into the overhead rack.

“I’m not sitting here,” she said, looking wildly around for the stewardess. But the woman had melted away, smiling discreetly.

“You are if you want to fly in this cabin. There are no more seats.”

“Look around you.”

“I bought all of them.”

Jane blinked. “What? You bought an entire first-class cabin?”

“Just so you had to sit next to me. I think you’ll agree that a gesture like that is worthy of respect, at least. Sit down.”

“Craig . . .”

“I said sit.”

She sat.

He leaned over and kissed her, softly, possessively, on the lips.

“I saw what you did today. That was brave, Jane. That was good.”

“She’s right for it.”

“And you’re right for me,” he said. “I want to see if I can soften you up a little more.” Jane stared as he reached into his pocket and drew out a ring case; she put her hands over her mouth; he flipped it open, showed her the small circlet of gold set with emeralds. “It was my mother’s.” He took her trembling hand, and gently slipped the ring onto it. “It’s a simple fact; you were made to be my woman, nobody else’s. I can’t sleep without you. And the thought of another man so much as touching you is more than I can bear. So there’s only one way to get you to myself. Preemptive strike.” Levin kissed her again, much harder, wanting her urgently, hating that they had to wait five hours.

“That’s a hell of a proposal.”

“I’m not asking you. I’m claiming you. You’re mine; my woman. My wife.”

“Yes,” she said, melting with happiness, and lust, and the sheer exhilaration of it. “Your wife.”

They kissed, hard, then slower; then his arms snaked around her.

“Damn,” Jane said, grinning, when she came up for air. “This is going to be fun.”