“If you come to me, it will seem like you care about me and no one will believe you’re using me.”
“I do care about you and I’m not letting my mother fuck with you.”
My heart softens. “I care about you too, Shane, which is why you have to trust me to handle this.”
“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s my mother.”
That statement makes me sad for him in too many ways. “I’ve got this, Shane. I promise. I have to get back to the table. I’ll text you when I return to the office.”
“She’s going to try to mess with your head.”
“I’m fully aware of your mother’s intentions. And if you don’t think I can manage her, and your father, why did we decide I’m staying?”
Silence stretches for several beats before I hear, “Do not let her turn you against me.”
It hits me then that everyone close to him has turned against him. “She can’t turn me against you. No one can. I promise.” I just hope the same will be true in the reverse if he ever learns what I’ve been hiding.
“Text me when you’re back,” he orders.
“I will,” I promise.
The line goes dead, and I stuff my phone back in my purse, and quickly step to the mirror, brushing my windblown hair back into place, and exit the bathroom. I dread my return to the table, but nevertheless hurry forward and rejoin Maggie. “My hair was a mess from all that wind on our walk over here,” I say as I sit down.
“You look stunning as always.” She settles her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her hand. “Tell me about yourself, Emily.”
And just like that I am trapped, forced to tell her lies that will not match the truth I’ve told Shane, leaving me with no option but to dodge and weave. “I’m just a girl, learning her way around Denver.”
“The food has arrived,” Lori announces, saving me once again as she sets our plates in front of us. “Can I get either of you anything else?”
“Nothing for me,” I reply, and thankfully Maggie and Lori chat for a moment, giving me time to plot my change of subject.
“Where were we?” Maggie asks, giving me her full attention again and reaching for a fork.
Nowhere I want to go again, I think, and quickly say, “I wanted to ask about Mr. Brandon. You mentioned he did well today when you first got to the office. Does that mean he’ll be in tomorrow? There are a lot of people asking about him.”
“I’m certain he will. Staying home today was a precaution to ensure he knew he’d tolerate treatment well.”
“That’s great news,” I say, taking a bite, and despite this awkward meeting, the flavors explode in my mouth. “Oh man. I forgot how good this is.”
She ignores my raves, her keen stare thoughtful, if not calculating. “You’re close to my husband. You will see and hear things.”
“If this is where you offer me money again, it won’t work.”
“This is how I get to know the person sitting outside his door.”
“Do you do this with all his many assistants?”
“No. Because they didn’t stand up to him and earn his respect. You have.”
I’m not surprised I have his respect after our recent confrontations, but rather the fact that he’s talked to her about me. “I’ve worked with men like him before. Retreating rarely works.”
“You are correct, but even those who understand that premise tend to wilt under my husband’s wrath.”
“He’s a hard man,” I say. “But I assume that’s part of why he’s a success.”
Something, bitterness perhaps, flits in her eyes and she stabs at a ravioli. “Tell me about yourself. You went to school in L.A., correct?”
“I guess you’ve been talking to human resources.”
“I take that as a yes,” she replies. “And your parents were attorneys?”
I reach for my water to help choke down the lies I clearly can’t avoid. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you go to law school?”
“Life happened,” I say, quickly stuffing food into my mouth to shut myself up.
“Your parents died in a small plane crash.”
My throat goes dry and I reach for my water. “Yes,” I lie, though I’ve told the truth to Shane. I take a drink and set my glass down. “I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned that to human resources if I didn’t want it repeated.”
“Nonsense,” she says. “It’s the little pieces of our past that bring us to the present.”
“Indeed,” I say, and she can’t know just how profound those words are at this moment.
She pushes her plate aside. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”
So much for the dodge and weave strategy. “All right,” I say, scooting my plate away as well.
“You’re in a unique position that will put you in the middle of a family war and you will become a casualty if you allow it.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“When I tried to buy you, it was with the intent of making it clear that you’re loyal to me.”
“If you did that, no one would have trusted me, to feed me the information you want.”
She waves that off. “I get information on my own. I wanted them to believe you were no longer a target for their use.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Brandon men are motivated by power and money, and they will do whatever necessary to win those things. And at present, Shane and Derek are battling for control of the company, both in need of their father’s vote with the board to claim the role of CEO. And, quite frankly, my husband enjoys watching them fight it out.”
It’s nothing Shane hasn’t told me, but still incredulous to hear. “That’s wrong on all kinds of levels.”
“Honey, you can’t know what it’s like as a mother to watch the divide between my sons broaden, and at the hand of their father no less.” Her voice cracks and suddenly, I think she might really be sincere about trying to help me. “All I can do is keep the playing field safe and even and protect those in the warpath, which includes you. In your role, both of my sons will most certainly see you as someone who can access critical information they might wish to possess.”
Considering she knows about Shane and me, she’s clearly inferring he’s using me, and despite absolutely knowing better, there’s a stupid hot spot in my chest. “The bottom line here,” she says, continuing, “is that both of my sons will try to manipulate you and they will both have one agenda. Winning. You are inconsequential. Don’t let them make you inconsequential.”
Inconsequential. That word rips through me and hits raw nerves I didn’t realize were exposed, and have absolutely nothing to do with her, Shane, or my job. “You look stunned, honey,” she says, giving me a sharp eye. “What are you thinking?”
“Thinking? Nothing really. I’m still just digesting it all.”
She doesn’t look pleased, as if she’s expected some reaction I haven’t given her, and thankfully her cell phone rings, giving me a few moments to compose my thoughts. I watch her grab her purse and remove her phone, and glance at a text. A nagging sense of her wanting me to lash out at Shane digs in and takes hold.
She gives an exaggerated sigh. “Alas, it seems I must end our lunch early. I’ve been ordered home. My husband’s not feeling well after all, and needs me. And to think he was going to try to hide his new rounds of chemo from me.” She tucks her phone back into her purse and hooks it over her shoulder. “Let’s head back and finish talking on the way. They’ll put the bill on my tab.”
“Of course.” Eager to end this encounter, I too grab my purse and we quickly make our way to the exit, stepping outside to gusting winds and droplets of rain that effectively save me by ending the conversation.
Once we’ve dashed back into the building, she faces me to softly say, “No one is to know about his cancer. Understood?”
“I would never tell something so private without permission.”
“Excellent. You’re a good girl
, Emily. Let’s keep you that way.” She reaches up and drags my hair through her fingers, frowning as she does. “Emily, honey. You need to cover those blond roots. I’ll text you my hairdresser’s number. In the meantime, mascara on the roots. It works.” She turns and walks away, oblivious of the bombshell she’s just landed, leaving me stunned, my knees wobbling with the impact of yet another secret exposed.
My lies are everywhere, sucking me into a hole I fear I’ll never escape, and my biggest fear is that they might be exposed and used not just against me, but against Shane. Mentally shaking myself, I hurry toward the public bathroom, dash to the back stall that has a sink and mirror inside, and inspect my hair, cringing at the blonde that seems to have appeared at my hairline overnight. Quickly taking Maggie’s advice, I dig out my mascara, and manage with limited success to hide the lighter shade of my natural hair, resorting to a ton of hairspray to hide the rest.
Task complete, I exit the bathroom with my promise to call Shane weighing on my mind, and head to the coffee shop, where I hope to find privacy. With my phone already in my hand, I place an order, claim my drink, and sit down at a corner table, the sexy, funny memory of meeting Shane here playing in my mind. I’d been seduced from the moment I met him, and now … now I know I’m headed toward love with this man. I, of all people, know the death of love is lies.
My phone rings and sure enough, it’s Shane. Drawing in a calming breath, I punch the answer button. “I was about to call you. Your father wasn’t feeling well so she cut the lunch short, which suited me just fine.”
“How did you even end up at lunch with her?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. I know the answer. She bulldozed you.”
“Much like her son, she doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer if she doesn’t want ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Unlike her son, she always has an agenda. What was she after?”
“She seemed to want me to stay away from you and Derek, and align myself with her.”
“Me,” he says flatly. “You’re sure?”
“She never confronted me about seeing you, but she did say quite clearly that you and Derek would target me. Specifically, by seducing me or paying me for information that might help with the goal of taking over the company. And while it could be coincidence, she took me to lunch at Jeffrey’s to deliver that warning.”
“It wasn’t a coincidence,” he says tightly.
“That was what I thought too, I just didn’t want to assume the worst of your mother.” I hesitate. “She claims to be concerned about your divide with Derek, but she seemed to really want me to think the worst of you.”
“And did it work?”
“Not for a minute.”
“My light in the storm of betrayal,” he says softly. “We’ll talk more about my mother tonight, but I’m going to be off-site when you finish work. One of the partners from my old firm is in town and wants me to meet him for drinks, but I should be done by seven. I’ll send a car to get you at six forty-five.”
“I need to run a few errands after work,” I say, thinking about dyeing my hair, and replacing the phone I threw away this morning. “Can the car pick me up at my apartment at eight?”
“I’ll set it up,” he confirms. “And I’m leaving an elevator card for you at the front desk and a key to the apartment just in case I run late.”
A card and key feel like the trust that I so want to deserve. We say our good-byes and my mind lands on the moment at lunch when Maggie cornered me about my parents dying in a plane crash and I decide that lie is the one that is going to make me crash and burn. Shane’s words replay in my head. The light in my storm of betrayal. The idea that the lies forced on me by another could make him believe I’m a part of that storm twists me in knots. I have to tell Shane that I lied to human resources and his mother before she says something and he finds out from her. If only I could safely tell him everything.
* * *
I leave work at five o’clock, a luxury I am certain I wouldn’t have if Shane’s father wasn’t out today, and make my way to the pharmacy, where I buy a phone and hair color. As soon as I get home, I text Rick with my new number, but of course get no reply. By seven, I’ve colored my hair and I’m drying it, chasing my lies, and looking for solutions. By seven forty-five, I’ve dressed in my only pair of jeans, a slim-cut dark denim, and a light blue V-neck tee, wearing tennis shoes, because I have nothing else but heels. Come eight o’clock, I’m pacing my small apartment waiting on the car Shane’s sending for me, and I’ve come to the conclusion I don’t want to have. I want to tell Shane the truth, I do, but it’s selfish and wrong. Once he knows, that’s it, and that comes with a burden he doesn’t deserve or need, not with all the hell he has going on. If he stays close to me, he will find out, and that leaves only one option. We can’t see each other anymore.
There is a knock on the door and I glance out of the window to find a man in a suit and a black sedan idling nearby. A few minutes later, I’m at the Four Seasons, traveling the elevator up to Shane’s suite, a small overnight bag on my shoulder. At Shane’s door I knock but he doesn’t answer, and the fact that he trusts me here alone only drives home why I have to be strong tonight. We have to stop seeing each other. I unlock the door and enter, setting my bag and purse on the coatrack by the door.
I pass the kitchen and glance up the stairs at the bedroom, wondering, Can I really walk away if I make it up those stairs again? But how do I miss one last night with Shane? Tormented, I walk through the living room and realize the patio door is open. Inhaling, I move forward to hear Shane’s voice.
“What exactly are you suggesting, Eric?” Shane demands.
“I’m not suggesting anything,” comes a male voice I assume to be Eric. “I’m telling you what my patient told my nurses. And not just any patient. The wife of a professional baseball player who says he’s using performance-enhancing drugs he gets packaged as something else from your company.”
I catch myself on the edge of the bar from the impact of Shane being involved with more than just a family war. This is criminal, and it’s everything I’ve tried to fight and escape in my life.
“Let me get this straight,” Shane says. “The soon-to-be ex-wife says this drug my company is selling off-label can’t be detected in blood tests?”
“That’s what she claims,” Eric says.
“This is the athlete that is paying for the plastic surgery you’re doing on his soon-to-be ex-wife.”
“Correct.”
“This has dirty divorce settlement written all over it,” Shane replies.
“Shane, man,” Eric says. “I want that to be truth, but she swears that ballplayer who died last month of an unexplained heart attack was using it too.”
“This isn’t happening at Brandon Pharmaceuticals,” Shane insists.
“I hope not, man,” Eric says. “Look. We went to school together. We grew up together. I know you wouldn’t do this, but your family is another story.”
Shane brushes past that comment. “I need everything you can give me on this woman.”
“You know I can’t give you that.”
“Of course you can’t. I’ll figure it out, but I need you to keep me in the loop.”
“I will.”
It’s then I realize the conversation is ending and I’m standing here listening. I turn and rush for the door, messing with my bags as footsteps sound. “Emily.”
Suddenly Shane is standing in the hallway in front of me, and a tall, good-looking man in a dark suit with wavy blond hair is with him. “Hi,” I say with an awkward wave of my hand. “I knocked but you didn’t answer.”
“I was just leaving anyway,” the other man says, giving me a nod and then eyeing Shane. “I’ll be in touch.” He steps around us and leaves.
The door shuts behind me, leaving Shane and me alone. Shane steps closer to me, his suit jacket gone, his tie loose, and he looks like sin and sex and torment. “We need to talk,” he says, a lean away from touching me
, but he doesn’t. And I sense he doesn’t want me to touch him either.
“I’m listening,” I say, every nerve in my body on edge waiting for some bombshell beyond what I know already.
“There are things happening, Emily, that I can’t, I won’t, risk you becoming involved in. Tomorrow you make sure you get fired and I’ll make sure you get the severance you need.”
This is my out. I should take it and run, but instead I ask, “So that’s it? I quit and go away?”
“For now. We talked about this.”
“And yet you won’t even touch me.”
“If I touch you, I won’t send you home, and I can’t let that happen.” He takes a step backward, as if solidifying those words. When his gray eyes meet mine, they are steel, his decision made. I wait to feel rejected by the coldness of the moment, but I do not. He really means to protect me. There is no other option to him and I am ashamed of how weak I was in protecting him.
I inhale a deep breath as I step to the coatrack, grabbing my purse and bag and turning for the door. I want him to stop me, but I know he won’t. He believes this is the right decision. I’d believed that as well until I’d heard the trouble he’s in. Sitting outside his father’s door, I have a unique window into the family with whom Shane is at war. Leaving now is deserting a ship, and a battle post, in the middle of that war. I won’t do that. I’m staying.
“Emily,” he says. My hand is on the door, but the next thing I know, he’s grabbed me, and his hand is on the back of my head. He’s kissing me, deeply, passionately, and then he sets me away from him and opens the door. “If you don’t make my father fire you, I’ll fire you.”
I leave without a word, the taste of his regret, and my own, on my lips, with no intention of anyone firing me. I’m more resourceful than he thinks, and I care too much about him to let his family win.
SHANE
Two hours after I gutted myself by forcing Emily out of my apartment and my life, at least for the time being, Seth and Nick join me at my apartment, Nick making a discreet entry separate from Seth. Convening at the island in the kitchen, both men look weary, Nick with a thick stubble on his jaw, and Seth with his tie loose and his jacket gone.
Hard Rules Page 23
