Super-stud. What a joke. Not that he was laughing. “How kind of you.”
Years of suppressed pain and anger bubbled up. He struggled to push them down. This was not the place to explode. “I suppose I should thank you for turning me into the asshole I am today. Every time I eviscerate a doctor in court, it’s your face I see. You’d better hope you’re never on the other side of one of my lawsuits.”
Even her artfully applied mask of make-up couldn’t hide the color fading from her face. Not much scared the Great Galindez. Apparently, that did.
Ethan had been dreaming of this day for so long, anticipating the rush of satisfaction that finally confronting Maria would bring. He waited, but that rush never came. Instead, a whole lot of nothing filled him. The pain and anger he’d battled moments ago dissolved. A void, an emptiness, now existed where his stored bitterness had once resided. Was he imploding? Was this forgiveness? Or had he stopped giving a damn?
“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”
What was this? Some sort of Charles Dickens meets M. Night Shyamalan? Because clashing with the ghosts of past loves would sabotage his present and impact his future. Hopefully, that Shyamalan surprise twist would be in his favor.
Maybe he ought to rethink that mimosa.
CHAPTER 39
GREAT. THE QUEEN OF the cougar crew had Ethan cornered by the omelet station. What was that all about? Wasn’t he a little old for her? Scuttlebutt had it the unholy trinity liked their men rough and barely legal. It made them easier to control. How did Ethan fit into that mold?
If the good doctor was here, the other two couldn’t be far away. And speak of the devils. Like Cartman drawn to cheesy poofs, they swarmed him. Poor Ethan. But he could take care of himself. She had more important things to worry about than some wrinkled, old hags talking to her husband.
Like why her personal assistant, Irene, was holding court with six members of her board of directors. Stephanie was no longer bound by the terms of her prenuptial agreement with Smitty, but finding out who had altered the document topped her priority list. And seven of the prime suspects seemed awfully cozy at the moment.
A pang of disloyalty attacked her. Irene, Grandpa Jamison’s long-time secretary, had been with the company for more than fifty years. She’d been her father’s personal assistant, and now hers. The lively septuagenarian had been always been a fixture in the Kerrigan family. Suspecting Irene of masterminding what amounted to a violent overthrow made Stephanie want to vomit.
She made her way through the demilitarized zone, AKA the lobby, past the buffet, and into friendly Tobin territory, instinctively heading toward the table crammed with the five gorgeous blond men she was blessed—or cursed, depending on the day—to call her brothers.
Her parents had sided with Uncle Brian and Aunt Deb in the great Tobin-Clausen feud that had split the club members’ loyalty long before she had been born. Sitting anywhere else would have been unthinkable. Even the head table at her wedding reception had been angled to align with the boundaries no one could see but everyone respected.
Stephanie bent to kiss her brother BJ’s cheek. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
BJ took a long sip of his Bloody Mary before nodding in Pete’s direction. “I’m allergic to babies, and soon Mom will start on the grandchild rant. I can’t decide whether to thank you for giving her a baby to fawn over or curse you for reminding her that none of us are anywhere near giving her grandkids.”
Leave it to BJ to make everything about him.
“First, you’ll have to give her a daughter-in-law.” Theoretically anyway, although Stephanie was sure that, at this point, Aunt Deb wouldn’t split hairs.
BJ grimaced. “Yet another thing I’m allergic to.”
Yeah, his personal condensed pocket dictionary went from commissions—her favorite word—skipping all variations of the word commit, jumping straight to commode, which said a lot about her brother.
She tapped her uncle Brian’s shoulder. “Irene got back from her cruise yesterday. I didn’t expect her to be here today, let alone be confabbing with the dirty half dozen. Did we miss the email invite to the meeting?” She pointed toward the corner deep in Clausen country.
Uncle Brian nodded. “I noticed that a few minutes ago. What do you say we saunter past the champagne fountain, grab ourselves some mimosas, and crash the party?”
Exactly what she had been thinking. Sure, she could have handled it herself, but having her father’s best friend by her side would make things much easier. Plus, as head of the company’s legal department and the seventh member of the board, she trusted Uncle Brian to have her back personally and professionally.
She stroked the top of Pete’s head. “Aunt Deb, are you okay with Pete for a while?”
“Don’t worry about me. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s taking care of baby boys.” Aunt Deb smiled sweetly at her sons.
“Brace yourselves, brothers, I can feel the rumbling. She’s about to explode,” BJ mumbled.
“At least someone in this family loves me enough to give me a grandchild.” Aunt Deb pulled Pete into her with a deep sigh, her face glowing with peace and contentment. Would that make the perfect Madonna and Child Christmas card or what?
“And so, it begins,” Quinn lamented.
“Gentlemen, and Shane, I think it’s time for another plate,” Riley suggested as he stood.
Shane shot his brother the bird but followed the stampede to the buffet table.
Stephanie knew not to get between her brothers—the vicious eating machines—and food, but this time it was escape, not hunger, that compelled them as if their asses were on fire. It wouldn’t be long until Aunt Deb launched into the “Give me grandchildren or give me death” rant that turned her five strong sons into terrified toddlers.
Uncle Brian took Stephanie by the elbow and jutted his chin toward the door. “Here comes Sandy. Let’s get out of here before the real problems start.”
STEPHANIE FORCED HERSELF to relax the grip on her glass. Shattering it and sending jagged shards and enhanced juice all over the people seated around Irene’s table wouldn’t win her any friends.
Irene’s puffy, red-rimmed eyes met Stephanie’s with a cold stare. Had she caught a bug on her cruise? She had to be sick, because, as rumor had it, the last time Irene had cried was at Grandpa Jamison’s wake. Since then, she’d become the reason for many tears, including a few of Stephanie’s. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not today.
“Welcome home, Irene. How was your cruise?” She pulled out a chair and settled in without waiting to be asked. Uncle Brian took the seat on her right and waited with her for Irene’s response.
Irene’s eyes narrowed; her lips drew into a taut line. “It was fine, thank you. I heard you got married while I was gone. Don’t you think that was a bit soon after burying poor Smitty?”
Okay, so she was going straight for the jugular; leave it to her to slay the elephant in the room with a single blow. But that wasn’t surprising. Irene had lost her filter long ago and had no qualms about speaking her mind.
“What can I say? Love makes you do some crazy things.” Ethan said as he claimed the seat to Stephanie’s left. He pulled her hand to his lips for a soft kiss, tilting her hand to showcase her stunning ring. “And as far as ‘poor Smitty’ goes, he cheated on her and had a baby with another woman. The man is hardly worthy of anyone’s sympathy.”
“And you are?” one of the men at the table asked.
Stephanie squeezed Ethan’s hand for a shot of courage. “I’m sorry, Walter, where are my manners? This is my husband, Ethan Webb. Ethan, these gentlemen are on my board of directors. Going counterclockwise; Walter, Carl, Samuel, Winston, Matthew, and Glenn. The grand lady is Irene, my personal assistant, and you’ve already met Brian.”
No one rose to shake Ethan’s hand. So, her manners weren’t the only ones on hiatus.
Ethan leveled a cool gaze at Walter. �
�I didn’t think there was anyone with two brain cells to rub together who hadn’t heard of me. Carl, unless my memory fails me, we settled a sexual harassment case out of court last November. And Glenn, if I’m not mistaken, you and I have a date for a deposition on a wrongful termination charge day after tomorrow. And, well, Brian, we’ve settled our differences, and I’m looking forward to many happy holidays around your table with my beautiful bride.” He lifted Stephanie’s drink to his nose and inhaled. He turned to her with his eyes crossed then switched his juice for her mimosa.
“Is something wrong with her drink?” Walter asked.
“She must have grabbed my drink by mistake. We’re trying to get pregnant, and alcohol is off her menu for a while.”
The cup Irene was about to take a sip from slipped from her hand, crashing to the table. Her chin quivered. “You slut! How could you—”
Ethan held up his hand to silence her and turned to Stephanie. “I thought you said she was your PA. I’d be damned if I let an employee of mine talk to me that way, especially one you seem to pay well enough to afford the dues at this pile of rubble.”
Now the men at the table stood. Were they about to pounce on Ethan? But no, Stephanie felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Could you take him for a minute? Sandy had to take a call, and I need to use the bathroom.”
Stephanie snorted. She had no doubt Aunt Deb would have burst her bladder to hold on to Pete. Another thing she didn’t doubt? Aunt Sandy would come prowling for the baby once she’d realized Aunt Deb was gone, and the odds Deb would get him back were not good. But for now, Stephanie was happy to hold him. “Everyone, meet Pete, Ethan’s nephew and Smitty’s son.”
Irene reached up to fiddle with her necklace, her face suddenly ashen. “Smitty’s son?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “My sister, Megan, is Pete’s mother. Smitty left his entire estate to her, which is why I pulled a copy of Stephanie and Smitty’s prenuptial agreement. Someone went to a lot of trouble to alter it before it was filed. Anyone have any ideas who would do that? And why?”
Stephanie jerked toward Ethan. That horrible granite mask had settled over his face again. This was no friendly chat; he was in full attack mode. But exactly where was he going with this?
“What are you trying to say?” Walter asked.
Ethan turned his stony face toward the chairman of the board. “Estate law isn’t my strong suit, but I’m confident that once the dust settles, my sister will hold half of Stephanie’s shares in Kerrigan Financial Services. Since Megan is currently, shall we say, incapacitated, and I hold her power of attorney, that means I will control those shares. And I’ll use my access to company files to ferret out the person or persons responsible for this fraud and make sure he, she, or they are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
Bile rose in her throat. Was he going back on his promise? Was he planning to enforce the prenup? Dizziness attacked as she struggled to concentrate on the drama playing out in front of her. She forced herself to take a breath, to calm herself. This wasn’t the way she would have handled it, but right now, she had to trust him.
Her heart rate kicked up a notch as each board member in turn refused to make eye contact with Ethan. They were all hiding something. Had they all been in it together? But why?
Finally, Ethan’s gaze rested on Irene. “You’re the logical choice. Any personal assistant worth his or her salt knows everything that’s going on in the company. I wouldn’t be surprised if my assistant could pinch hit for me in court if she had to. What about it, Irene? Can you tell us how a fraudulent prenuptial agreement got filed with the county clerk’s office?”
Irene’s shaky hand tightened around her necklace. The delicate gold chain snapped, sending the intricate Celtic cross charm bouncing off the table and onto the floor. Tears welled in the old woman’s eyes, but she silently returned Ethan’s steely glare. Dark spots appeared on Irene’s immaculate navy blazer as sweat trickled down her lined face. She clutched her stomach and slouched onto the table without making a sound.
CHAPTER 40
STEPHANIE HANDED ETHAN a cup of vile vending machine coffee. “She’s still in surgery. It’s touch and go.” She settled herself into the hard-plastic chair next to him in the ICU waiting room. “The CPR you gave her got her this far, but the compressions broke a few of her ribs.”
Ethan took a sip, grimaced, and set the cup aside. “I can see the headlines now, ‘gargantuan lawyer crushes frail senior citizen as horrified bystanders watch.’ At least part of my evil reputation will remain intact.” Yeah, the grapevine will ignore the life-saving CPR part and go straight for the broken ribs. Another example of how no good deed ever went unpunished.
A tall, blond man approached, bending to kiss the top of Stephanie’s head. Although they hadn’t been formally introduced, thanks to Irene’s sudden heart attack, Ethan had no doubt Mr. Kissy-face was one of Stephanie’s brothers.
He tickled Pete’s chubby little foot. “There’s the little goober who shocked Miss Irene into a coronary episode.”
Ethan stood and offered his hand. “I’m Ethan Webb. You’re a Tobin, that much is clear, but which one?”
“Knox.” He clasped Ethan’s hand. “Number four of five.”
Knox was obviously comfortable with his place in the world. Not the oldest. Not the youngest, safely nestled somewhere in the middle. Ethan knew Knox had been cushioned and coddled all of his life, yet the man carried a mist of melancholy anyone paying attention could plainly see. Ethan knew money didn’t buy happiness, but a full belly and a warm, safe place to sleep made misery easier to bear. Despite all of his advantages, Knox bore his sorrow like a badge.
“Knox isn’t as anti-baby as BJ and Quinn are,” Stephanie said.
Pain shot through Knox’s eyes. He coughed. “Yeah, well, I was sure I’d be the one to give Mom her first grandbaby, but...” His gaze wandered out the window and beyond.
“And if that bitch ever shows her face here again, I will personally turn it into hamburger. You do take criminal cases, right?” she whispered.
Ah, lost love. Ethan could relate. But this morning’s little tête-à-tête with Maria, then confronting Valarie and Laura, had made him understand that love beyond heartbreak was possible.
With the right woman. With Stephanie.
Ethan watched Stephanie free Pete from his car seat and lay him on the blanket she’d spread on the floor. Pete responded to her soft, soothing voice as she quickly stripped him of his dirty diaper, cleaned him, and rubbed him with lotion. She deftly fastened a new diaper on him and pulled up the charcoal grey cotton pants that completed the little man’s first suit and tie. Ethan shook his head. A suit for a newborn. But it had been a gift from his great —in her mind anyway —aunt Sandy. The club did have a dress code, after all.
“You’re going to be a good mom.” He bent to pick the baby up and help her stand.
But good was too weak of an adjective. Great, wonderful, stellar. Their child would be blessed with the kind of mother Hollywood had beamed into everyone’s living rooms in decades past. June Cleaver. Harriet Nelson. Carol Brady. Yeah, their kid was going to be one of the lucky ones. Like Knox and his brothers.
But would he be around to witness it? The jury was still out on that one.
She glanced toward Knox, who was lost in thought. “It’s good practice for when we have our own, which you practically announced to the world was on its way.”
Yikes, was she reading his mind?
“Why did you tell everyone we were trying to get pregnant?”
“They all seemed a little too chummy. I wanted to throw a flashbang in the middle and watch the reactions. It’s one of my favorite negotiation tactics.”
“And?”
“Varying degrees of confusion and fear from the men, but pure hatred and white-hot fury from Irene. That woman detests you.”
Stephanie shook her head. “You have to be wrong. She’s been like a g
randmother to me my entire life.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s innocent. Think with your head, not your heart. Were there any little clues that seemed insignificant at the time that might add up to a big, bright arrow that points right at her?”
Stephanie nodded. “She handled all of the paperwork for the prenup. Uncle Brian was between assistants at the time, so she volunteered to take over. Which was kind of strange. Normally, she would have delegated it to an underling.”
“And no one had bothered to double-check the longtime, loyal employee.”
Stephanie collapsed into a chair. “Why would Irene have altered the prenup? Until my parents died, I only had a one-percent stake in the company. They were relatively young and healthy. They could have lived for another forty years if it hadn’t been for the car accident.”
Wheels started turning inside his head. “Was there an autopsy?”
She wiped away a tear. “It was only a one-car accident, but the insurance company insisted on a full post-mortem.”
He considered her words. “I need you to answer this honestly. Was your father... impaired?”
A tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head. “The toxicology report came back clean. Daddy had been sober for almost a year. He’d gotten so wasted at my wedding that he didn’t remember any of it. It scared him. Mom was loaded, but she was the passenger.”
His eyebrows lifted; his head bobbed side to side. His lips pursed as he nodded.
Her brows knit. “What?”
“There are things that don’t show up in a standard tox screen. Get me a copy of the autopsy, and I’ll have my guy take a look at it. The timing is too convenient.”
“Do you think—”
A giant hand clasped Stephanie’s shoulder as a shadow covered her. “Jesus Christ. Is Knox moping again? Charlie’s a total babe, but she made her decision. It’s been almost a year; he needs to get the fuck over it. We need to do an intervention, take him out to get laid.” The hulking blond pulled Stephanie into a hug.
For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1) Page 20
