THE ART OF MAKING HIM BEG

Adrian Kingsley woke to the sound of his phone vibrating on the bedside table. He reached for it without opening his eyes. “Turn that thing off,” the woman beside him murmured, pulling the duvet over her shoulder. Adrian glanced at the screen. Seven missed calls from his personal assistant, three messages from his chief financial officer, and a reminder about a board meeting at nine. He sat up. “Good morning to you too, Charlotte.” She lifted her head from the pillow. “You're leaving already?” “I have a meeting.” “You said you'd take me to breakfast.” “Did I?” Charlotte stared at him. “Adrian.” He stood and reached for his trousers. “Order whatever you want from the restaurant downstairs. Put it on my account.” “That's not the point.” He paused, looking at her. “What is the point, then?” She sat up, holding the duvet against herself. “You could at least pretend you enjoyed spending the night with me.” “I did enjoy it.” “Then why are you behaving as if I'm an appointment you've finished?” Adrian fastened his trousers and picked up his watch. “Because we both knew what this was, Charlotte. I didn't promise you a relationship.” “You never promise anyone anything, do you?” He slipped the watch onto his wrist. “Promises complicate things.” She looked away, clearly unhappy with his answer. Adrian walked to the wardrobe, selected a charcoal-grey suit, and placed it over his arm. Charlotte watched him dress. “You know, one day you're going to meet a woman who won't accept this arrangement.” “Then I'll wish her well.” He said it without hesitation. She shook her head. “You're unbelievable.” “I'm told that quite often.” He leaned down, kissed her cheek, and collected his phone. “Enjoy your breakfast.” The bedroom door closed behind him. By the time the lift reached the ground floor, Adrian was already reviewing the financial report his assistant had sent. Charlotte was yesterday's business, and he had no intention of spending the morning discussing feelings. He had a company to run. And unlike relationships, his company never complained about his priorities. --- At thirty-two, Adrian was the youngest chief executive in his family's business history and one of the most talked-about bachelors in London. His company, Kingsley Enterprises, had interests in commercial property, luxury hotels, and private investment. Under his leadership, its profits had increased significantly over the previous three years. He had expensive tastes, a penthouse overlooking the Thames, a collection of cars he rarely drove himself, and enough money to make most problems disappear. Women were rarely a problem. They approached him at charity events, exclusive clubs, business dinners, and private parties. Some wanted his attention, others wanted his money, and a few genuinely enjoyed his company. Adrian seldom asked which was which. He was generous when he wanted to be, charming when it suited him, and ruthless whenever someone tried to demand more than he had offered. His friends called him impossible. His competitors called him dangerous. His employees called him Mr. Kingsley, preferably without making eye contact when he was in a bad mood. By eight forty-five, he was walking into the Kingsley Enterprises headquarters in central London. His assistant, Marcus Reed, fell into step beside him. “Morning, sir. The board members are already in the conference room.” “Then they can start without me.” “They've been waiting since eight.” “That's unfortunate.” Marcus pressed his lips together, hiding a smile. “The acquisition team also needs your approval on the Manchester property deal.” “Have they corrected the figures I flagged yesterday?” “Yes.” “Then put it on my desk.” “And your nine-thirty call with Singapore?” “Move it to ten.” “Done.” Adrian entered the conference room, where six senior executives were gathered around a long table. One of them immediately stood. “Mr. Kingsley, we've reviewed the acquisition proposal, and we believe the revised offer is reasonable.” Adrian took his seat. “Reasonable isn't what I asked for. Is it profitable?” The executive hesitated. “Yes, provided the projected occupancy rate holds.” “And if it doesn't?” “We would still recover our investment, but the returns would be lower.” Adrian opened the report. “Then explain why your team has valued the property using the most optimistic projection available.” “We wanted to present the strongest possible case.” “You were supposed to present the most accurate one.” The room fell silent. Adrian turned to another page. “Reduce the offer by six per cent. If the sellers refuse, we walk away.” One executive shifted in his seat. “Sir, that could jeopardise the entire deal.” “Only if we're foolish enough to pay more than the property is worth.” He closed the report and pushed it across the table. “I'm not buying a building to impress the people selling it. I'm buying it to make money. If your team can't distinguish between the two, I suggest you review your priorities.” Nobody argued. Within twenty minutes, the acquisition team had its revised instructions, the finance director had received approval for a separate investment, and Adrian was moving on to the next item on his schedule. He didn't need to shout to command a room. He only needed to make it clear that he knew more about the numbers than anyone sitting across from him. **** At eleven thirty, Adrian finally had time for coffee. Marcus joined him in his office, carrying a tablet. “Your mother called.” Adrian didn't look up from his laptop. “What did she want?” “To remind you about the Kingsley Foundation dinner next Friday.” “I know about the dinner.” “She also asked whether you're bringing someone.” “I'm bringing myself. That should be enough.” Marcus laughed. “She specifically asked if you had a girlfriend.” “And what did you tell her?” “That I value my employment too much to answer questions about your love life.” “Excellent. You're learning.” Marcus placed the tablet on the desk. “Speaking of your love life, Charlotte called the office.” Adrian stopped typing. “Why?” “She wanted to know whether you'd be attending the charity dinner with her.” “I never invited her.” “I gathered that from the tone of her message.” Adrian leaned back. “Marcus, if I have to explain to another woman that spending a night together doesn't make us a couple, I'm going to start charging for the conversation.” “Perhaps you should stop choosing women who want something more.” “Perhaps they should stop assuming they'll get it.” Marcus gave him a long look. “One day, someone will give you a taste of your own medicine.” Adrian smiled. “I'd be interested to meet her.” “I'm sure you would.” Marcus left, shaking his head. Adrian returned to his work, entirely satisfied with his life. He had money, influence, a thriving business, and no one to answer to when he walked through his own front door. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing missing. *** The problem began shortly after lunch. Adrian had just finished a conference call when his communications director, Helen Price, entered his office without waiting for an invitation. “We have a situation.” He continued signing a document. “What kind?” “A serious one.” “Then tell me.” Helen placed her phone on his desk. A video was playing on the screen. Adrian recognised the setting immediately: a business forum he had attended two days earlier. He also recognised his own voice. “People who can't afford to lose their jobs should learn to be more useful instead of complaining about the people who employ them.” The clip ended. Adrian looked up. “That's what you're worried about?” “It's already spreading across social media. Several major news outlets have picked it up.” “They asked me whether underperforming employees should expect to keep their jobs indefinitely. I answered the question.” “You answered it in a way that makes you sound as though you have no respect for ordinary workers.” “I don't remember asking for a public relations lecture.” Helen took a breath. “Mr. Kingsley, the company employs thousands of people. Investors are asking questions, and our customer relations team is receiving complaints. We need to respond before this gets worse.” “Then issue a statement explaining what I meant.” “We've drafted one. But I think we need an experienced publicist to handle the situation personally.” Adrian's expression darkened. “You want to hire someone to tell me what I can and cannot say?” “I want to hire someone who can protect the company while you continue running it.” “I've been running this company quite successfully without a babysitter.” “And your business performance is precisely why we need to protect your reputation.” For several seconds, Adrian said nothing. Helen slid a folder across the desk. “I've shortlisted three consultants. The first two have worked with major corporate clients. The third has an excellent record handling difficult public figures.” Adrian opened the folder and skimmed the profiles. “Difficult public figures?” “That's how her previous clients described themselves.” He glanced at the photograph attached to the final profile. NINA WILLIAMS — PUBLIC RELATIONS CONSULTANT. Her qualifications were impressive, and her previous campaigns had produced measurable results. He read the summary, then closed the folder. “Arrange a meeting.” “With Nina Williams?” “Yes.” “When would you like to see her?” “Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock.” Helen collected the folder. “I'll confirm the appointment.” As she reached the door, Adrian added, “And Helen?” She turned. “Make sure she understands that I hired her to repair my reputation, not manage my life.” “I'll pass that along.” The door closed. Adrian looked at the video again, watching himself deliver the remark that had caused so much outrage. He still believed people were making too much of it.