wants to turn the company’s image around and restore its reputation as one of the chief international resort chains.”
Ophelia remained silent, letting her mother continue at her own leisure.
“She wishes to launch a major PR campaign to draw in a diverse clientele—something that holds universal appeal.”
Ophelia tentatively cleared her throat. “She seems...ambitious.” Ophelia wouldn’t have thought that from what she’d read of the girl.
Lillian Reid did not comment on the observation. Instead, she continued, “Miss Towers believes there is only one way to make this happen.”
Ophelia braced herself. Lillian rested her eyes on her daughter’s. “She wants Dane Montgomery to head the creative marketing division and lead the campaign.”
Ophelia swallowed. “He’s retired.”
Lillian rolled her eyes, and Ophelia berated herself for having pointed out the obvious.
“He’s the best.” From Lillian’s tone, it was clear she was mocking the very words Bianca must have spoken in Dane’s regard.
“Where is he?” Ophelia asked.
“Hawaii, if what the trades said three years ago still holds true. He gave everything up to—” she waved her hand dismissively “—grow fruit on an island or some such dull venture.”
Ophelia processed this. “So, Bianca wants us to recruit Dane Montgomery for her?”
Lillian nodded. Ophelia hesitated, loath to ask the next question.
“And...if we can’t?”
Her mother’s piercing stare sliced into her once more. “She pulls the entire Towers Resorts International account.”
Ophelia’s eyes widened. “What? Everything?”
The same clipped nod.
“But that would mean—”
“Cutbacks. Layoffs.” Lillian shuddered as she uttered the dire word, “Downsizing. These actions will be interpreted as weakness, and more clients will follow in Bianca’s wake.”
“We can’t let that happen.”
For the first time in ages, Lillian bestowed a rare smile of approval upon her daughter.
“No. We cannot.” She swiveled in her desk chair, tidying a stack of paperwork. “That’s why I’m sending you to Hawaii to recruit Dane Montgomery.”
This pronouncement elicited a round of blinking from Ophelia. She fought to maintain her poise in the face of this startling statement. “You’re...sending...me?”
True, she was one of Reid Recruiting’s best. Yet, such a crucial assignment surely called for the cream of the crop.
Lillian tented her fingers and fixed the full weight of her considerably intimidating stare on her daughter.
“You started as an assistant at this company, following your graduation from college. You have worked your way up the ladder without any help from me. I have shown no favoritism toward you thus far, and yet you have still made it clear your wishes are to expand our offices into Paris, with you at their helm as Director of European Operations. Do you, or do you not, wish to see your dreams fulfilled?”
Ophelia swallowed, striving for the same cool demeanor her mother exhibited now. Paris. It had been her dream since she was a child, during the short years she and her mother had lived abroad in France with her father. Those had been the happiest times of her life, and it was the tragedy of her existence that they had been so fleeting. Her father, considerably older than her mother, had passed on, and Lillian Reid had returned to the States with her young daughter in tow to found the Reid Recruiting Agency. Ever since that time, Ophelia had wished for two things: to earn her mother’s everlasting approval by following in her footsteps and to expand the corporation’s success into the city where she had been happiest—Paris, France. Every step of her education and career had been aimed toward that one, solitary goal.
“Are you saying...if I do this, if I can convince Dane Montgomery to return to New York as the Creative Marketing Director of Towers International...you’ll help me open the Paris branch?”
Lillian gave a short nod. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, is it not? I’ve certainly listened to enough chatter from you about it.”
Lillian rotated her chair toward the expansive window overlooking the city. “Countless others have tried to bring Montgomery out of retirement. If you succeed in procuring him for Bianca Towers, a coup like that will assure your success in an overseas venture. Our client lists will triple as everyone scrambles to sign with the agency responsible for doing the impossible—bringing Dane Montgomery back into the game.”
Ophelia felt a tremble beginning deep within the center of her chest, radiating outward in a peak of adrenaline. Paris. Her dream city. Her mother was right; she had talked about this for a long time. It had been her one desire ever since she’d been old enough to understand her mother’s business. She nibbled her lip as she considered the possibilities.
The offer, however, appeared to have a limited response time, and her reply must have been taking too long.
“Of course, if you feel you’re not ready, not up to the task...I can send someone else, one of the senior recruiters...”
“No!”
This slip of decorum caused Lillian to glance at her.
“No,” Ophelia continued in a calmer voice. “I’m capable. You know that.”
Lillian nodded. “I agree. Because you see, Ophelia—” she pivoted the chair back in her daughter’s direction “—only you can truly appreciate what is at stake here. Only you, as my child, know the sacrifices that have been made, the labor that has been involved in making Reid Recruiting one of the top agencies in the field. Only you can understand.”
She paused, her gray eyes calculating as she looked at her daughter. “We cannot lose that. Do you understand me? We will not lose that.”
Lillian was right. Only Ophelia could appreciate the significance of the situation—she had to succeed at this. She had to keep Reid Recruiting on top. If she didn’t do it, they were lost. And she, along with her mother, would suffer the worst of the consequences.
Should she accomplish this, however, she would be rewarded accordingly—Paris, Director of European Operations, her mother’s stamp of approval. A dream fulfilled.
Ophelia had set her features with the same frosty determination her mother’s had exhibited. “Yes. I understand. You can count on me, Ms. Reid.”
Another rare, if somewhat deprecating, smile had been bestowed.
Now, some forty-eight hours later, and thousands of miles away from that tense scene, Ophelia could still feel the stab of her mother’s grim expression. Compelled by the memory, she slung her long legs over the bed’s edge and pulled herself from its soft foundation to head toward the bathroom.
Staring into the carved-wood-frame mirror, she ran her fingers over her features, picking out the items which possessed a similarity to Lillian Reid’s. There were only slight resemblances—very little, other than the hair color her mother now dyed—between the two. She could have been anyone’s daughter, could have belonged to anyone.
But her lips. Her mouth. This was the one characteristic linking them genetically. The soft pink lips tapering outward to a pointed edge. This was her inheritance.
She touched that feature now and willed her lips upward.
Her mother’s infrequent smile stared back at her in haunting reminder.
Only you can understand.
* * *
AFTER UNPACKING HER suitcase, Ophelia stood beneath the bathroom shower for long