Page 1 of Mane Attraction
ONE
XELENE
The Florida sun blazed overhead, casting sharp shadows across the gleaming ribbon stretched between two pillars. Xelene adjusted her position beneath the pristine white tent, grateful for the shade as she watched Clayton Jennings pose for photographers beside his latest venture—a sleek tech facility that would have remained nothing but architectural dreams without her intervention.
Two months ago, Clayton had been tabloid poison. Drug arrests, a string of affairs that destroyed his marriage, and investors fleeing like rats from a sinking ship. The man standing before the cameras now, beaming as he gripped oversized scissors, bore little resemblance to the hollow-eyed disaster who’d stumbled into her office eight weeks prior.
“Look at him.” Janice appeared at Xelene’s elbow, her hazel eyes dancing with amusement. “Remember when he showed up to our first meeting still wearing yesterday’s clothes and reeking of whiskey?”
Xelene’s lips curved into a smile. The transformation had been surgical in its precision. New wardrobe, media training, carefully orchestrated charity appearances, and a reconciliation with his wife that had required delicate negotiation. The mannow cutting the ribbon was Clayton Jennings 2.0—devoted father and husband, reformed businessman, and pillar of the community.
“A perfect reputation reconstruction.” Xelene kept her voice low as reporters clustered around. “Though I prefer to think of it as having revealed the man he could choose to be.”
“Don’t go modest on me now.” Janice nudged her shoulder. “This was extreme even for you. The man was hemorrhaging money, credibility, and brain cells. His board was preparing to oust him, and his investors had already started liquidating positions.”
The familiar satisfaction of a job well executed settled in Xelene’s chest. She’d been orchestrating these transformations since childhood—smoothing her parents’ explosive arguments, translating their venom into civil discourse, becoming the bridge between two adults who’d forgotten how to communicate without destroying each other. At twelve, she’d learned that chaos could be contained, narratives reshaped, and disasters transformed into manageable realities.
This career chose her as much as she’d chosen it.
Clayton raised his hands, addressing the crowd with practiced sincerity. “This facility represents more than technological innovation. It represents second chances, community investment, and the belief that we can all become better with dedication and commitment to a higher purpose.”
“Your exact words coming out of his mouth,” Janice murmured. “It’s like watching a puppet show.”
Xelene watched Clayton’s performance with analytical detachment, but on the inside, she was beaming. The harder the case, the more rewarding the victory. She’d lost count of the politicians, celebrities, and business magnates she’d resurrected from their own ashes. Each crisis presented a unique puzzle—identify the pressure points, craft the narrative, rebuild theclient from the inside out, and execute the game plan with unwavering focus.
The crowd erupted in applause as Clayton severed the ribbon. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment for tomorrow’s headlines that would praise his remarkable turnaround.
“So,” Janice said as the ceremony began winding down, “now that you’ve performed another miracle, please tell me you’re finally taking a vacation. A real one. Not that working retreat you called a holiday last year.”
Xelene considered the suggestion for a long moment.
When had she last taken time off that didn’t involve conference calls or crisis management?
The question required actual thought, which probably answered itself.
“A vacation does sound appealing.”
“Shocking admission from the woman who took client calls during her own birthday dinner.” Janice’s grin turned wicked. “Of course, a proper vacation would require you to stop working long enough to actually enjoy yourself. Maybe even meet someone who isn’t a professional disaster requiring your services.”
“I meet plenty of people.”
“One-night stands don’t count as meeting people, Xelene. They count as recreational exercise.”
Heat flickered through Xelene’s chest—part irritation, part something else she refused to examine. “Those arrangements serve their purpose perfectly. Physical satisfaction without emotional investment.”
“How romantic.”
“Romance isn’t the objective.” Xelene’s voice carried the crisp authority she used with difficult clients. “I’m not looking for any complications. My one-night stands provide exactlywhat I need—pleasure without commitment, desire without dependency.”
Janice’s expression softened, concern replacing teasing. “Don’t you ever want more than that? Something real?”
The question hit deeper than expected. Xelene pushed down the flicker of longing that threatened her composure. Real meant vulnerable. Real meant risk. Real meant watching something beautiful transform into something destructive, just like her parents had demonstrated so thoroughly.
“What I want is control over my life and my choices.” Xelene straightened her shoulders.
A petite figure materialized beside them as if she’d stepped out of thin air. The woman couldn’t have been taller than five feet, but something about her commanded immediate attention—the way she held herself, perhaps, or the mischievous glint in her bright blue eyes that seemed to catalog everything in a single glance.
“Excuse me, ladies.” Her voice carried a warmth that felt oddly familiar, though Xelene was certain they’d never met. “Are you fans of this particular tech venture?”
