Page 10 of My Cowboy Valentine

“Over my dead body.”

“Good luck with that, Rowdy.”

Chapter Five

RED

Isit in the black Challenger I rented, talking into my car’s Bluetooth to the director of Red’s board. The latest numbers are in, and the company I’ve put my entire heart and soul into is tanking. My investors want answers.

“Ms. Cash, numbers don’t lie. No one can argue that the label started with a unique and promising vision. And I know you’ve given your life to the company, but sometimes, the best thing you can do is know when to let go. It’s time for big changes at Red brand. I’m no longer convinced those big changes will happen with you at the helm.”

I bury my head in my hands, trying hard not to punch my dashboard or steering wheel. I’ve got to hold it together. “Mr. Pharrell, you know better than anybody that Red is my life. My identity. I can do this. I know I can. I just need time.”

“You need a new perspective. One that stepping down from the company might give you.”

“But it’s my brand!”

“That doesn’t make it any less a failing brand, sweetie.”

I hate it when he talks down to me. Would he ever refer to a male colleague as “sweetie”?

But instead of speaking my mind, I find myself begging. “Please give me another chance. I know I can turn things around. The last launch was a failure. I understand. I’ll start using fake fur and vegan leather to get PETA off my back. Whatever.”

“PETA provided some of the best publicity you and The Red Brand have garnered in a while…except for this latest debacle with Jameson & Cash and your surprise engagement. I have to hand it to you. You’ve got everyone’s attention… The question is, what willyoudo with that attention?”

“What do you mean?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“As a part owner in Jameson & Cash, you have a new bargaining chip on the table. One I might be interested in…”

Interested in gobbling up the way you did my company.Despite my hatred of Rowdy, the thought of helping Mr. Pharrell steal anyone’s label nauseates me. “Jameson & Cash? You’ve got to be kidding. It’s a stupid-ass brand built by two inconsequential cowboys.”

“Thinking like that is why you’re sinking in the fashion industry, my dear.”

Silence.

He asks, “Can you get me inside knowledge of their upcoming designs?”

I swallow loudly. “You mean like corporate espionage?”

“You make it sound so bad, Ms. Cash. It’s not like I want to steal the brand’s ideas. I simply want to see if there’s promise worth pursuing.”

“And if you find said promise?” I ask with a sinking feeling.

“Then, I want you to work your manipulative magic and convince this so-called inconsequential Ronald Jameson to take the company public?—”

“So you can purchase controlling shares in it.”Like you insinuated your way in at Red…

“You’re finally starting to learn…”

“But none of this makes any sense,” I argue, furrowing my brow. “After all, we’re talking about Western wear. I mean, seriously.”

“Cowboys are trending these days. Taylor Sheridan dominates cable, and as long as we’ve got a nice swathe of the population pretending to be Rip and Beth, there will be demand for Western-inspired clothing lines. Why reinvent the wheel when we can let someone else do it and then swoop in for the kill?”

My stomach twists.

“I’ll even sweeten the deal by selling back the difference in value to Red, which, if my calculations are correct, would make you the controlling owner again.”

I close my eyes, desperation and disgust snaking around me. “I want that in writing,” I mutter, my soul withering.

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