Falling For the Foe E-Book

Milla Holt

• Herausgeber: Milla Holt
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

She can't stand him. He blames her for his company's woes. Now, they have to work together.

Nia has devoted her career to fighting for life-saving medicines for Ugandans with HIV. But when first-line treatments begin to fail, she must find a new source of affordable drugs before patients start to die. Too bad she just publicly bashed the head of a pharma company that owns a powerful new anti-HIV drug.

Magnus is poised to market a game-changing HIV drug, but an avalanche of bad PR threatens to destroy his company's reputation and kill his bottom line. When he travels to Uganda to boost his social justice credentials, he's not expecting to feel such a deep attraction to the woman whose viral blog post led to all his troubles.

To get what they want they must work together. He's out to rescue his company and she's trying to save lives. Neither dreamed their hearts would be on the line.

Note: This is an inspirational romance with Christian themes.

Leseprobe

FALLING

FOR THE FOE

Color-Blind Love Book One

an inspirational romance

Milla Holt

Reinbok Limited

LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM

Copyright © 2019 by Milla Holt

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Published by Reinbok LimitedKemp House,152 – 160 City Road,London EC1V 2NX

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Cover by Katzilla Designs

Editing by Krista Wagner

Falling for the Foe/ Milla Holt. -- 1st ed.

ISBN 978-1-913416-00-3Print ISBN 978-1-913416-01-0

To my husband, who is my biggest cheerleader, and my amazing beta readers Elizabeth, Marvi, Rebekah, Tawni, and Anuradha.

Table of Contents

FALLING

FOR THE FOE

Color-Blind Love Book One

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Epilogue

Chapter One

About the Author

Color-Blind Love

She can’t stand him. He blames her for his company’s woes. Now, they have to work together.

Nia has devoted her career to fighting for life-saving medicines for Ugandans with HIV. But when first-line treatments begin to fail, she must find a new source of affordable drugs before patients start to die. Too bad she just publicly bashed the head of a pharma company that owns a powerful new anti-HIV drug.

Magnus is poised to market a game-changing HIV drug, but an avalanche of bad PR threatens to destroy his company’s reputation and kill his bottom line. When he travels to Uganda to boost his social justice credentials, he’s not expecting to feel such a deep attraction to the woman whose viral blog post led to all his troubles.

To get what they want they must work together. He’s out to rescue his company and she’s trying to save lives. Neither dreamed their hearts would be on the line.

Note: This is an inspirational romance with Christian themes.

Chapter One

NIA ASABAGLARED at the clock above the receptionist’s desk. She could have sworn that its hands were moving backwards, but her phone and her watch agreed. It was still only 9:55.

She paced around the room, pausing next to the open window, grateful for the breeze that wafted past the curtains. It wasn’t yet midmorning but this was East Africa, and the heat was already threatening her hairdo and testing her antiperspirant.

She hated waiting. Especially when she didn’t know what she was waiting for. She had no idea why an official from Uganda’s Ministry of Health wanted to meet with her. She had a half-formed hope of what it could be about, but she didn’t want to jinx it by naming it, and that made the wait even more excruciating.

She looked at her phone, reading her email for what must have been the ten thousandth time.

Are you free for a meeting? Come to my office at 10:00am tomorrow. Henry.

“Henry” was Henry Lutale. He coordinated the HIV Outpatient Service on behalf of Uganda’s Ministry of Health. The HIV/AIDS activism community was a close-knit one, and in her work as a researcher and medicines access advocate, Nia had had many dealings with the HOS over the years. She had applied for a job here twice but didn’t get it. Three times, if she counted the time she had chickened out of mailing in her application. And now, this email. A faint hope rose again, and once more, she squelched it ruthlessly.

At last, a phone buzzed and the receptionist murmured into the receiver. She looked up at Nia. “Mr. Lutale will see you now. First door on your right.”

Nia restrained herself from running and pushed the door open.

Henry Lutale was sitting in front of a desk that looked like the scene of a controlled explosion. With his rotund form and grizzled hair and beard, he always made Nia think of a large bear.

“Nia. So glad you could make it,” his gruff voiced boomed.

Someone’s been eating my porridge, Nia thought, stifling a nervous giggle by clearing her throat. “Hello,” she said. “I got your email.”

“Yes. Please sit down.” Henry motioned toward one of the two chairs in front of his desk. He fixed his eyes on her for a moment. “I’ll cut to the chase, Miss Asaba. Can I call you Nia? You’re no stranger to us at HOS, of course.”

“No, I know all about you,” Nia said. “I really admire your approach to HIV outpatient care, especially since you’re the only ones who have rural clinics all over the country. I’ve always admired your work.” Her mouth was motoring on its own steam. Stop blabbering, she told herself.

“Indeed,” Henry said. “We have your information on file from a previous job application you submitted. And now it happens that we have a new position that we need to fill urgently.”

Henry paused for a moment, as though waiting for a reply. When Nia didn’t answer, he went on, “I know it’s an unusual request, but we need somebody with your skill set who can move quickly. The job involves some highly confidential information, so we’d need you to consent to a non-disclosure agreement before we can give you any details.”

Nia’s eyes widened. Her mind could just about process the fact that she was being offered a job, and she could barely marshal her wits to formulate a sensible question. “So, you need someone to do what, exactly?”

“Advocacy work, networking and negotiation. Media engagement. The things that you do.”

“For the HIV Outpatient Service?” Nia didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it.” She could feel a wide grin stretching her face.

Henry’s eyebrows flew up. Even though he’d asked for a quick decision, Nia could tell that he wasn’t prepared for her instant acceptance.

“But I haven’t fully explained the role to you,” he said.

“I know enough about what you do,” Nia said. “Plus, I’m coming to the end of a research contract and it’s the perfect time for me to take on something new.”

Henry smiled. “Really? That’s great. Perfect! I’ll ask HR to move on the necessary processes.” He paused for a moment then said, “In the interests of full disclosure, Nia, although several of my colleagues feel you’re the right candidate for this role, there are some who have their doubts, given your history for, um, unorthodox tactics.”

He raised up his hand to stop Nia’s comment and went on, “But I’m happy enough to have you on board, based on the effectiveness of your work in the past. Now, let’s get down to business. Non-disclosure agreement.”

From the pile of papers and files on his desk, he selected a single sheet and handed it over to Nia. She scribbled her signature on it and passed it back to him.

He glanced at it, then said, “Good, good. Now, here’s what’s going on.” He handed her another sheet of paper. “We’ve recently evaluated our patients in all our clinics. As you can see, the numbers are very troubling.”

Nia glanced at the document. It was the executive summary of a report, marked highly confidential.

“Treatment failure,” Henry said. “One in ten of our adult patients are no longer responding to their anti-HIV medicines. Among the children, the numbers are even worse.”

Nia looked down at the paper again. She scanned the words, her eyes picking out the highlighted sections. As comprehension sank in, she felt as though the weight of a heavy stone was settling in her stomach. She knew what the numbers meant.

The HIV Outpatient Service provided free treatment to low-income clients. Through various strategies, it had secured cheap generics or lower-priced brand-name medicines for patients who would otherwise have been dead.

But now, according to this report, that treatment was failing one in ten patients. First-line treatments were relatively cheap. But when those medicines stopped working, patients had to move on to second-line therapies, which were twenty-five times more expensive.

Nia looked up at Henry. “Can you afford second-line treatment for ten percent of your clients?”

Henry’s answer was as blunt as it was bleak. “No. And there’s also the issue of the children. We have fewer child patients, but their statistics are worse. Almost half of those who are already on second-line treatment aren’t even responding to that anymore.”

He sighed. “It’s because those medicines are really hard to take. People have found it hard to stick to their therapy. You know that better than most; you worked with that medicine campaign last year.”

Nia nodded. She’d had a contract with UNAIDS to run a huge education drive among people living with HIV, trying to get them to learn how important it was to take their medication exactly as prescribed. The therapy was notoriously difficult to maintain. Patients had to make sure they took their dosage, sometimes a large number of pills, at the same time every day.

Many of the drugs caused severe nausea and other stomach problems, which made keeping the doses down difficult. Patients needed to have both a rigid self-discipline and schedule which they had to keep up indefinitely to suppress the virus and keep it from mutating into a drug-resistant form.

But now, this is exactly what had happened: one in ten of the HOS patients had developed resistant strains of the virus and were no longer responding to treatment.

Henry said, “This is why we need your help. We need to get new medicines, and we need them urgently. We’ll have to get the money somehow, or find some way of getting a big discount. Your main job will be to figure this out. Work out an arrangement with the pharma companies for us to get cheaper second-line medicines. Get together with other organizations and put pressure in the right places. You’ve done that sort of thing before.”

Nia nodded, remembering the years of lobbying Parliament, the street demonstrations and backroom wheeling and dealing it had taken to secure changes in the law and agreements which meant that thousands more Ugandans could get free HIV treatment.

She said, “You do know that my negotiation history is patchy, though, right? I’ve had results with quite a few companies, but I hit a wall with some others. To be honest, I’m not sure whether my name would do you any favors right now in some pharma circles.”

Henry said, “I know. That’s why I mentioned how your style has sometimes been a bit blunt. But you’re frankly the best at what you do. And it’s been a while since you last locked horns with anyone in the industry. I think enough time has gone by for you to negotiate with a clean slate.”

Nia’s eyes slid away from his. Henry had clearly not read her blog this week. She’d written a no-holds-barred post slamming pharma companies for putting profits before patients. And a couple of major international newspapers had called her yesterday, asking for her to elaborate on her comments. For reasons she couldn’t understand, her blog had a large following, particularly when she wrote anything controversial. But stories about Africa were usually buried deep inside the international papers and soon forgotten, Nia told herself. No need to mention it to Henry, she thought, rationalizing away a twinge of conscience.

She said out loud, “Okay, then. I’ll need details of who makes the medicines for your current second-line therapy so I can start thinking about who I need to approach.”

“No problem. I’ll send that to you as soon as possible,” Henry said. He pulled out another sheet of paper and gave it to Nia. “Also, we just heard that Acricaine is going to be approved. We would love to get access to it.”

Nia grabbed the paper and stared at it. It was a press release. “Already? I knew they were close, but not that close.”

Acricaine was a new HIV therapy that the world was hailing as a wonder drug. Instead of requiring a strict daily pill schedule, patients could take an injection once every two weeks. It had none of the side effects of current therapies and, best of all, promised to be more effective than any known treatment.

It was the perfect solution. Except for the fact that it cost over a thousand times more than the medicines most HOS patients were currently taking. And the fact that Nia had used her blog to condemn Nordic Wind Pharmaceuticals, the company that made Acricaine. She had used phrases that included “rampant greed” and “profiteering with death.” She hadn’t held back either when the journalists called to follow up. The thought of approaching Nordic Wind cap in hand was a bitter pill to swallow.

Acricaine could be exactly what the HIV Outpatient Service’s patients needed to stay alive. But surely those little interviews she had given would be buried on the inside pages of the papers, and she could quietly remove her blog post. Nordic Wind need never find out, she thought. Again, she felt that niggle of conscience, and she had a silent debate with God. Lord, I don’t really need to tell Henry about an interview that may never be published, and as soon as I leave here, I’ll take down my blog post.

Henry was looking at his papers again, but Nia knew he was waiting for an answer.

“Great!” she said. “I’ll make it a priority to approach them.”

Chapter Two

“COME ON, PEOPLE. I need answers!” Magnus Klassen, CEO of Nordic Wind Pharmaceuticals, sat at the head of his conference table and stared at his top executives. They kept their heads down, none of them meeting his eyes.

Magnus had called this crisis meeting to discuss a barrage of damaging press reports about his company. It was the last thing he had expected to be doing today. Yesterday, he had announced to the world the stunning success of the latest round of medical trials for Acricaine, his company’s new anti-HIV treatment. The FDA and the European Medicines Agency were fast-tracking their approval process for the drug, and Magnus had expected to be riding high in the media.

Instead, he had woken up to a nightmare of vitriolic press reports. Far from hailing the arrival of a wonder drug, the press were attacking his company’s ethics.

Britain’s Guardian newspaper declared, “Nordic Wind Poised to Profit from Africa’s Misery.” The New York Times was no better: “AIDS Breakthrough Drug Miracle Will Bypass Neediest.” Several other newspapers were reading from the same script, all of them citing a blog post by somebody called Nia Asaba. The name rang a faint bell in his mind, but he couldn’t pin down where he’d heard it before.

“Give me ideas, people,” Magnus demanded. “What can we do to turn this around?”

Vanya Klassen, Magnus’s sister and public relations manager, was the first to speak up. “I’ve drafted a piece to run on our website, but that’s just a start. We’ll need to do something big to turn public opinion around.”

“Clearly,” Magnus said. “What do you suggest we do?”

His financial officer, James Clark, chipped in. “Whatever we do, we need to do it fast. The bad press is killing our stock prices. We’ve already announced a date for when we’re releasing a tranche of stock, and we’ve gone too far to stop the clock on that one.”

Magnus winced. James was confirming what he already knew, but Magnus did not like having to hear it again.

When it became clear how promising Nordic Wind’s new medicine was, several major pharma companies had approached Magnus with offers to partner up in order to bring Acricaine to market. But Magnus had turned down all the deals, keen to stay in control. Without the deep pockets of larger, more established drug companies, he needed a serious cash injection to carry out his plans. He had hoped that selling off some stock would do this, but with the damaging media reports, that sale was going to bring in much less funding than he had hoped for.

Vanya was examining the Guardian article. She looked up at Magnus. “Who is this Nia Asaba? Some sort of HIV social media influencer? She seems to be the one who triggered all this.”

Magnus shrugged. “I don’t know.” He slapped both palms onto the table. “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. Vanya, I need you to analyze all the major media reports. Give me a summary of the main themes people are talking about and pin down the narrative that we’ve got to address. We’ll meet back here in three hours and figure out a strategy. Get a hold of whoever you think needs to be here and bring them in. James, if anyone gets in touch with you about share prices, just keep hammering on about our latest clinical trial results. Back to work, everyone.”

Magnus’s team filed out of the room. He raked his hands through his hair and glanced again at the newspapers strewn in front of him. He couldn’t believe that he was having to do damage control today. This was supposed to have been a moment of triumph for his company.

“Staring at those headlines won’t change them, you know.”

Magnus’s head jerked up at the sound of that gravelly voice. His father, Karl Klassen, stepped into the conference room, immaculately tailored as always, his still-thick iron gray hair framing his square-jawed face.

Karl walked round the table and picked up one of the newspapers. He read from an article, his deep voice enunciating the words much louder than necessary. “Acricaine has been hailed as a wonder drug that has brought AIDS treatment firmly into the 21st century. It’s a shame that this medicine will be out of the reach of the people who need it the most. Nordic Wind Pharmaceuticals is content to test their drug on the world’s poorest, using them as human guinea pigs, and the drug will now line the pockets of its creators as it’s peddled at prices that only the wealthy can afford.”

Karl dropped the paper back onto the table, scattering several pages. He raised his gray eyes to look at Magnus. “You’re in a lovely pickle. What are you doing to fix it?”

“We’re on top of it,” Magnus said. His father’s cutting tone was the same one he had used when Magnus had been a small boy, called onto the carpet for some juvenile infringement. Hearing it still whipped him raw, stirring the same feelings of shame, inadequacy, and defensiveness. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to remind himself that he was no longer an eight-year-old who had broken a window with a slingshot, but the head of a multi-million-dollar company.

“Looks rather like it’s on top of you at the moment,” Karl said, selecting another newspaper and reading a damning snippet aloud. When he was done, he said, “So what’s your plan? I’ve got a lot of money tied up in your little company and I was expecting to come out ahead when you sold off some stock.”

“We’re working out a strategy,” Magnus said, standing up and gathering up the newspapers, more to keep his frustration in check than because he wanted to tidy up. “We’ll deal with it.”

“Right,” Karl said. “Give my secretary a call and she’ll put you in touch with my PR team. They’ll be able to clean up this mess for you.”

“Thanks, Father, but it won’t be necessary.” Magnus kept his voice even. “We’ve got our own team and they’ll do fine.”

Karl continued as though his son had not spoken. “You need to deal with this decisively and firmly. I know that you like being nice because of all that Christian stuff you go in for. But trust me, Magnus: in business, turning the other cheek will get you slapped all the way into bankruptcy. Of course, that’s a position you’re familiar with.”

Magnus’s face was aflame. Karl looked at him with a tight smile. “Anyway, son, you know what my secretary’s number is. And before I forget, your mother expects you for dinner tonight. Do you think you can make it, or shall I tell her that you’ll be busy putting out this fire?”

Magnus forced the words out of his constricted throat. “I’ll be there. And I meant it, Father. My team can handle this.”

“They’d better,” Karl said. “Like I said, I plan on unloading my shares in a couple of months, and I am expecting a big profit, not to have them tank.”

Gritting his teeth, Magnus managed to avoid replying.

“See you at dinner, then,” Karl said, strolling out of the room.

Magnus hurled the newspapers into the bin. The last thing he needed on top of the morning’s disastrous media was his father hanging over his shoulder. He took several deep breaths.

Not for the first time, Magnus kicked himself for accepting his father’s money two years ago. His company had desperately needed to raise funds, but he should have known that the cash would come with countless strings attached.

Karl had bought himself a seat on the board, and he relished this as a free pass to stick his nose into every business decision. Magnus’s lips twisted in a wry smile. To be fair, he reminded himself, Karl Klassen didn’t need to pay anything to dish out unwelcome advice. He was more than willing to do that for free.

Magnus’s smile faded as his thoughts turned to his problem. He needed to find a solution. Fast.

Chapter Three

NIA STRODE INTO the reception area of HIV Outpatient Services on the first day of her new job. She was buzzing with ideas, ready to get her teeth into this new challenge.

She walked up to Mavis the receptionist and beamed. “Hi, Mavis! I’m starting here today.”

Mavis’s smile looked more like a grimace. “Good morning, Nia. Could you just give me a moment, please?” She punched a few numbers in her phone and said, “Mr. Lutale, Nia is here. Yes. Okay.” She looked up at Nia. “Mr. Lutale would like to see you in his office.”

“Okay,” Nia said with a smile. “I know the way.”

She walked into Henry’s office. He was pacing behind his desk, holding a sheet of paper in front of him.

“Good morning, Henry,” Nia said. “You wanted to see me?”

He turned the document towards her and dangled it in front of her face. “What exactly is the meaning of this?” he growled.

Nia stepped back so she could focus on the paper. It was an article printed out from the Guardian Online. Her heart thumped painfully as she took in the headline. “Nordic Wind Poised to Profit From Africa’s Misery.”

Oh, boy. Dear God, please, no!

She forced herself to read on. Her name appeared in the second paragraph, and she recognized in the quotes many of the things she had said in her interview.

“I’m asking you again, Nia. What is this?” Henry’s voice crashed through her thoughts.