Lisa

Moon Byul was a formidable interviewer. I'd chosen Tia's, a cozy Cuban cafe with bohemian flair, because of the friendly atmosphere. However, my lunch guests were squaring off, bowls of innocent fresh-baked tortilla chips and salsa between them.

I wanted some salsa, but I was afraid to reach in lest I get bitten.

"What do you see your duty as a business leader when it comes to setting an example for young girls?" Byul asked. Her digital recorder was pointed in Jennie's direction like a gun.

"Do you ask your male CEO interviewees that question?" Jennie shot back.

I should have ordered tequila.

"Men aren't often held to the same exacting standards as women in power," Byul recited.

"It's not my job to explore the unfairness of existing double standards," she continued. "It's my job to paint an accurate picture of the woman who barely a month ago narrowly avoided arrest in connection to a drug stop."

I leaned forward, ready to interject a defense. Moon Byul was known to be tough but fair. However, my source at Building Fortunes had failed to mention that much more of the interview energy trended toward tough.

Jennie's very sharp stiletto met my foot under the table.

"Some may see a woman who wasn't arrested because she had done nothing wrong," Jennie corrected smoothly. "When I get up in the morning, I'm a CEO who has hundreds of employees and their families counting on me to make good decisions. I have millions of customers worldwide who hold me accountable when it comes to the products I develop and sell. I take that very seriously. More seriously than baseless accusations and gossip-mongering. If you're not in the arena with me, I don't have time to listen to your criticisms. Metaphorically, of course."

"Of course," Byul said with what could be an approving nod.

"Byul, let's get this out of the way," Jennie said, liberating her utensils from the napkin as two servers approached with our meals. "I don't need you to like me."

"I'm not required to like you," Byul responded calmly.

She reminded me of my implacable seventh grade English teacher, a woman I'd thought hated me until the last day of school when she coolly told me I had potential if I were smart enough not to ruin it.

"You're also not required to paint a pretty picture of me. I'm not nice. I'm not a friendly boss. I'm tough. I'm smart. I'm busy. But I am also very, very fair. And I care deeply for my employees and my customers. Not every billionaire, female or otherwise, can say that. I've earned my place here, and I'm not going to allow anyone to question my accomplishments."

"Your company has certainly revolutionized wrinkle treatment," Byul said. I detected a distinct jab. The implication was clear: Wrinkles weren't cancer.

Jennie smiled dangerously, and I debated texting Alison to be ready for a hasty departure with a shovel and a tarp.

"My company has donated tens of millions of dollars to girls' STEM programs, university science departments, and environmental sustainability programs. Our new scar treatment will give tens of thousands of people—including wounded veterans and domestic violence survivors—a chance to be seen for something other than their past."

"Some would wonder if that's enough," Byul said, ignoring the steak fajitas that sizzled in front of her. "Especially with an initial public offering that could earn you even more money."

Jennie folded her hands neatly in front of her plate. "Some don't get to have opinions on how I spend my money and what causes I support. Your purpose for being here—"

"Is to write an unbiased profile on the woman who single-handedly built an empire and didn't allow a scandal to slow her down, much less knock her off course," Byul said, picking up her fork. A genuine smile hovered over her lips.

"Then we have an understanding," Jennie said, smiling over her arroz con camerones.

I sat back in my chair, certain that I'd missed a vital piece of the conversation. I flagged down a member of the waitstaff. "Yes, I'd like to order three tequilas please."

Jennie's eyebrows shot up. "Did you learn nothing from last time?"

I held up my hands. "I'm not sure what just happened, but I feel like it requires tequila."

"Let's talk about your college years," Byul said, consulting her notebook. "You were a biology and chemistry dual major at Johns Hopkins University, and that's where you met your chief marketing officer, Irene Bae."

"I was practically a lab rat. We met in a biophysics class," Jennie recalled fondly. "Irene is responsible for dragging me out of the lab every once in a while."

"Do you still enjoy spending time in the lab?" Byul asked.

"Every chance I get."

I sipped tequila while they discussed education and the early discoveries that led to the humble beginnings of Flawless. With the terrifying female posturing over, Jennie seemed relaxed. At least until Byul surprised us both by snapping a photo from her phone. "For the article," she explained. "It will be a combination of candid photos and, of course, the photo shoot."

"Photo shoot?" Jennie repeated. Her heel dug into the Italian leather of my loafer. My shoe guy was going to have a hell of a time buffing that out. I sat still and took my medicine.

"I get the impression that this interview was sprung on you," Byul guessed.

I cleared my throat. "There was a slight miscommunication with Jennie's calendar," I said.

"Which is why, after this lovely lunch is over, you'll both be joining me for five hours of rescheduled meetings and conference calls," Jennie said pleasantly.

My punishment for dropping the ball: Spending more time with Jennie. I found it completely acceptable.

We ate in silence for a few moments. And then Byul flipped to the next page in her notebook.

"Let's talk about the speculation surrounding your relationship with Ms. Manoban," she said, spearing a piece of steak with her fork. The fixer in me wanted to mediate the question. The human in me wanted Jennie's brutal honesty.

"Lisa was hired by my board to help manage the press surrounding my recent situation," Jennie said.

Byul and I both waited expectantly.

"As it turns out, she's not only a consummate professional and as dedicated to her work as I am to mine, but she's also rather…" Those brown eyes skimmed me, warming significantly. "Irresistible."

"Hmm," Byul mused.

"As a rule, I don't comment on my personal life," Jennie explained. "Those I share my life with shouldn't be required to make the same privacy sacrifices that I have."

"Irresistible. Personal life. Privacy. Got it," Byul said, weighing the non-confession. "Off the record, I'd question your intelligence if you two weren't enjoying your off hours together. On the record, my research for this article freshened up my knowledge of chemistry, and you two have enough of it for a significant laboratory accident."

"Off the record, we keep eyewash handy at all times," Jennie quipped and picked up her tequila.

--

Verita: Soooo, have we waited long enough before we demand wedding bells from Lisa?

Liz: *checks watch* It's been more than twelve hours. Let the demands begin!

Will: Lock that girl down, sis. She's got great taste in wheels and mediocre taste in you. BURN!

Berto: Unrelated, if you two crazy kids get married, does that mean you get a set of spare keys?

Me: Very funny, family. None of you are invited to the wedding.

Tanya: I KNEW IT! YOU TWO WERE SO SMOLDERY! When can I get a peek in her closet? Her taste is perfection.

Dad: Guys, have some chill will you? So Ms. Bachelor is all heart eyes over a beautiful genius with truly excellent taste in cars. Big deal. This happens all the time.

Mom: Michael! I told you sarcasm doesn't translate in text!

Mom: Lisa, if you don't make a serious move on that woman I will be deeply disappointed in you.

Me: I'd like to point out that none of this is any of your business.

Verita: It's adorable that Lisa thinks her love life is off-limits.

Dad: Are you new here, Lisa?

Berto: Back to the Porsche…

Tanya: Back to the closet…

Liz: I vote we start picking out engagement rings and texting them to Lisa. #helpful

Mom: What do you all think of this one? The emerald cut is very dignified.

Will: Mom, that's a clown GIF.

Mom: What's a GIF?

Dad: Jesus H. Christ! You know I hate clowns!

Me: I'm disowning all of you.

Mom: Fine. But we've taking a family vote and we're keeping Jennie.

Berto: And her Porsche.

Dad: Good luck, Orphan Lisa.