Gentle Persuasion Read online

  Though she ignored the apology, the exchange at least shook Lillian from her silent reverie. She smoothed her short, faded blond hair, a display of tension from her that Ophelia rarely witnessed, and then folded her neatly manicured hands before her.

  “We have a situation,” she announced, her voice matter-of-fact.

  Not trusting herself to speak further, Ophelia waited for her mother to continue.

  “I have just come from a meeting with Bianca Towers.”

  Ophelia prepared herself for potentially bad news. Bianca Towers was the heiress of an internationally renowned resort chain. With the recent passing of her uncle, the young socialite now possessed sole command of the Towers business and fortune.

  Her reputation as a flighty party girl had caused a drop in revenue for the Towers name once she came into the seat of power, and Bianca seemed anything but happy about it.

  Towers Resorts International had been employing Reid Recruiting Agency for years as their main source to fill top positions within their company. As one of Reid Recruiting’s most lucrative accounts, it remained imperative they keep Bianca Towers on good terms.

  This was no easy task considering the temperamental, impulsive nature of the twenty-five-year-old socialite. And if anything put Lillian Reid in a bad mood, it was schmoozing the rich.

  “She 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 minutes and let the warmth of the spray ease away her tension. Changing into more casual clothes, she stretched out on the bed once more and logged on to the inn’s internet connection.

  She spent the next few hours on her laptop in the Liliuokalani suite, clicking through websites and articles that mentioned Dane Montgomery. The research Holly had given her, along with her mother’s instructions and her own memory, provided the necessary framework to form a profile of Dane’s past and accomplishments. But Ophelia knew she needed to dig deeper if she was to achieve her goal.

  The web was a wealth of information on the former advertising executive, highlighting awards, achievements, accolades and a sparkling career path that had sent Dane higher and higher into the echelons of the corporate world. And then, suddenly, articles dated three years previously exploded into her browser, announcing Dane’s retirement and exit from business. There were dozens of speculations on the reasons: everything from a love child with some celebrity or other to a debilitating disease eating him alive. It was all fodder for the gossips, especially when Dane’s official statement proved to be rather dull reasoning.

  I plan to seek out new challenges in a different direction. While I value my time spent in this industry, I’m looking to find personal fulfillment at a less frenzied pace.

  He was labeled everything from “certifiably insane” to “a groundbreaking genius.”

  In the end, Ophelia sensed he simply felt tired—a feeling she could relate to after her years climbing the ladder at Reid Recruiting. But she had worked relentlessly to prove her value, and now, finally, she would be rewarded. If she could drag Dane back to the world he had left behind.

  With a sigh, Ophelia logged off and closed her laptop. She reached for a pillow and curled herself around it, her mind cataloging everything she’d gleaned from her research. She mentally filed away each scrap of information on Dane as she continued to form and revise her plan to recruit him. Soon, jet lag and the six-hour time difference between Hawaii and New York caught up with her. The next thing she knew, she woke to darkness outside her window and the soft sound of island crickets filtering in on the midnight air.

  Sitting up in the bed, she realized she’d slept away the rest of the afternoon and all of the evening. Annoyed with this waste of hours, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and decided to see if, by chance, anyone remained awake.

  Easing open the door to her room, she glanced down the hall in both directions. A soft light illuminated the stairs, so Ophelia headed that way, her feet moving soundlessly across the carpet. She had just reached the bottom step and noted all the inn’s lights were off for the evening when she heard what sounded suspiciously like a motorcycle outside. She crept closer to the open windows. The echo of hushed dialogue and muted giggles drifted toward her as the motorcycle purred gently.

  Leaning forward, she carefully parted two of the blinds’ slats and peered out. In the pale light spilling from the front porch, Ophelia saw a girl leaning against the solid form of a young man as he remained seated on the bike.

  They were murmuring affectionately, their foreheads pressed together, and Ophelia felt a sudden tug of longing. She couldn’t remember Cole ever cradling her in such a way—not even in the early stages of their relationship four years ago. But then, he had never much liked public displays of affection. She suppressed a sigh and though she felt jealous of the young couple outside the inn, she experienced no such regret for ending things with Cole.

  But to be held in such a way...wasn’t that every girl’s dream?

  As the embrace lingered, Ophelia felt embarrassed for intruding. Straightening, she began to head back toward the stairs but stubbed her toe on the edge of a cabinet, causing her to hop around and bite back a string of curses. By the time she regained her balance, the front door had eased open, and the girl she’d been spying on stood before her. For a moment, they simply stared at each other in surprise.

  Ophelia rubbed her opposite foot over her smarting toe. “Sorry,” she apologized.

  “For what?” the girl asked.

  “Um...” Ophelia trailed off, reluctant to admit she’d been watching the younger woman’s midnight tryst.

  “Are you a guest?” The girl stepped forward, and Ophelia could only nod in acknowledgment. The younger woman’s face split into a beaming smile featuring even white teeth against the backdrop of her smooth, sun-kissed complexion. “Aloha, I’m Leilani.” She extended a hand. “I’m in charge of reception, events and bookings.”

  Though the words were spoken softly in deference to the late hour, Ophelia noted the pride in them. She relaxed at the friendly introduction.

  “Ophelia Reid,” she said in equally hushed tones and inserted her hand into Leilani’s. “I flew in from New York this morning. I’m booked in the Liliuokalani suite for the week.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Leilani’s head bobbed, her long, dark hair swishing forward with the movement. “You booked at the last minute, right? Something about unexpected travel plans?”

  Ophelia licked her lips, uncertain how much she should reveal to one of Dane’s employees. “Well, um...yes. My assistant would have been the one to make all the arrangements.”

  Leilani’s eyes widened. “Oh. Your assistant?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Leilani cocked her head with curiosity, studying Ophelia. “Have you eaten?” she questioned at last.

  Ophelia’s stomach growled right on cue. She frowned apologetically. “I fell asleep for a few hours. The time difference and all.”

  Leilani waved a hand as if this happened all the time.

  “I suppose I could drive down to the coast,” Ophelia considered. “Surely there’s got to be some late-night diners open or something.”

  Now Leilani was shaking her head. She reached out to grab Ophelia’s hand, dragging her along as she spoke in whispers. “I’m starving! We’ll raid the fridge together. That way, if we get caught, I can tell them you forced me into it.”

  Ophelia couldn’t help grinning at this girl’s friendliness.

  “But there’s one condition.” Leilani halted and turned to face her. “You can’t tell my tutu or Dane that I got in so late.”

  “Tutu?”

  “My grandmother,” Leilani explained.

  “Oh.” Ophelia considered her. “Are you breaking your curfew? I did that a time or two myself back in high school.” Never any more than that, though. She dared not risk it and upset her mother.

  “I’m almost nineteen,” Leilani said, “but after everything that happened last year, I still get treated like I’m a toddler sometimes. Especially by my tutu.”

  Leilani released Ophelia’s hand and led her through a doorway, flicking on lights to reveal the interior of the inn’s kitchen. When Leilani began speaking once more, her voice was soft but not nearly so hushed as before.

  �
�Dane’s not so bad—he trusts me. But Tutu still worries.”

  “Your grandmother...er, your tutu, is...” Ophelia prompted.

  “Oh, Pele. The housekeeper and cook? You probably met her already. You’d remember if you had.”

  Ophelia grimaced at the recollection of the short, feisty woman. “Yes. I know what you mean.”

  Leilani nodded, her expression serious despite the humor in Ophelia’s tone. “I got into some pretty bad stuff a year ago. I cleaned up my act but grandmas...you know how they are.”

  Ophelia bit her lip and didn’t say anything. Her paternal grandparents had been gone long before she was born, and she had never gotten to spend much time with her maternal ones before they passed away during her college years. Her mother had avoided visits with them as much as possible.

  Leilani seemed not to notice Ophelia’s silence as she turned and opened the fridge door to begin rummaging inside.

  “Do you like huli huli chicken?” she asked from within the recesses of the refrigerator.

  “I’m sorry—what?”

  Leilani emerged holding several containers. “Huli huli chicken?”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Oh, um...I guess it’s sort of like barbecue chicken but with ginger, soy sauce, brown sugar, you know.”

  Another rumble in Ophelia’s stomach settled the matter for her. “I’d love to try it.”

  Leilani nodded with a grin and continued to pull containers from the fridge, announcing their contents as she placed them on the kitchen island.

  “Mango bread, huli huli chicken, steamed rice with pineapple, roasted sweet potatoes...”

  Ophelia began peeling lids off the dishes. “Sounds like a feast.”

  “Tutu may be a little prickly sometimes, but her food is pure sweetness.”

  Inhaling the fragrant scents of soy, spice and sugar, Ophelia didn’t argue this statement. Leilani opened cupboards and pulled forth plates and glasses. Placing them on the kitchen island, she gathered utensils and began spooning out generous helpings of the leftovers.