Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)

She nodded.

“I don’t feel like I’ve earned your confidence. I don’t have that confidence in myself.” I briefly closed my eyes. “I poured everything I’d become into PCE because of my early success. I wanted to make sure it’d been more than just a fluke. Or luck.”

“Sierra McKay. Flipping six pieces of real estate and netting over a million dollars in profit is not a fluke. You invested in your friend’s business and put her innovation into production. Yet you understood the finite timespan for ROI and adjusted accordingly. You still personally netted a quarter of a million dollars—which was thirty percent of the gross receipts—and then you turned around and leased the patent. That wasn’t luck. You created a business model that worked.”

“It worked from inherited capital,” I reminded her.

Phyllis narrowed her eyes at me. “Because you inherited the money that somehow lessens the success you had increasing the principle? Because you didn’t earn that cash waiting tables you’re not allowed to put the money your family earned…to work for you?”

“God. I hate that you’re so fucking logical.”

She laughed. “Never discount your successes. Trust me; there are plenty of other people who are more than happy to do it for you.”

“True. I’m just a little…torn.”

“I suspected that. Can you be specific?”

“How can I hope to foster a productive work environment at PCE when I can’t manage it here?” My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “If I can’t achieve results here at DPM, why do you have faith that it’d be different for me at PCE?”

“Maybe you’re stymied here by a number of factors that you aren’t even aware of.”

I’d heard that before. From Rory.

“But the reason I’ll put all of my faith in you, Sierra McKay? You fostered the work environment at PCE. You didn’t inherit it and all its problems from other managers. You built it, you nurtured it, you created it from the ground up. Maybe that’s easier to do than stepping into someone else’s vision, figuring out what’s wrong and having to right it. I truly feel you cannot compare the two entities. That means you’ll have different levels of success—one for each of them by default.”

I burst into tears.

Phyllis let me cry. She tracked me down a tissue. She gave me the there-there pats I needed.

After I wiped my eyes and blew my nose, I looked at her. “It’s overwhelming. In a good way. I’ve been beating myself up about this for a month and now I feel like a weight has been lifted. Thank you. You have influenced me more than any person besides my father. If I’m ever half as good of a mentor as you, I’ll consider myself blessed.”

She reached for a tissue. “Silver-tongued little thing. Thank you.”

“So now what?”

“You’re officially agreeing to take the directorship of PCE?”

“Yes.”

That felt…good. Damn good.

“We’ll announce it at next week’s meeting. They’ll put it to a vote, but you won’t get any opposition because everyone admires you and sees you as the future.”

“They do?”

“Yes. Last piece of business, and this is a biggie. WEI requires the director of the charter to go through an orientation process. To learn all aspects of WEI from the ground up. To network with every chapter. That is key. That global network is the glue that holds the organization together.”

“Okay. That won’t compromise my responsibilities running PCE?”

Phyllis smiled. “I love that you asked that first thing. No, it won’t. You’ll have a liaison while you’re traveling and I’ve volunteered to do it for the year you’re in orientation.”

Everything inside me stilled. “Maybe you’d better go into a little more detail about this year-long orientation.”

“Your schedule for the first year will be networking focused. That means a considerable amount of travel. I’ve been told not to expect you to be in the PCE offices more than five days a month.”

“Only five days a month?”

“But just think where you’ll be the other twenty-five days. Anywhere from India to Pasadena. Doing everything from listening to tips on securing international financing to giving seminars on finding your niche in the marketplace.”

I heard what Phyllis said, but above it in a high-pitched panic tone, I heard Only five days a month? Only five days a month? Only five days a month?

What the hell had I agreed to?

My brain immediately started a war.

This is the opportunity of a lifetime. One year is nothing.

No. She withheld crucial information about the travel schedule because she knows no sane person would agree to that.

No sane person with a life or a family or in a serious relationship.

Then it sort of clicked.

As far as Phyllis knew, I had none of those.

Except…now I did.