by Cynthia Dane
“I’m not taking orders today, Damon.” Alice’s hand lingered on the front door handle. “But I’ll be handing them out like candy on Halloween.”
“Fuck, you’re so damn sexy.”
She blew him a kiss before stepping out.
No time to walk back to the penthouse. Driving cut off five minutes that early in the morning. Shit, I wish I could drink some caffeine. Alice wrote a reminder into her phone to call the doctor later that afternoon. If she wasn’t getting a positive blood test back about Monroe Heir #1 by tomorrow, she was hosting a riot.
The doorman was quick to let her in. The elevator operator got her up to the penthouse in record time. Dee stood in the reception area, surprised to see her charge coming from the elevator.
“Right. I’ll have to let you know when to meet me at the other apartment before work.” Alice hurried past her bodyguard, keycard to the penthouse in hand. “Stay here a sec. I’ll be right back and we’ll go to the office.”
The penthouse was still and quiet. Lissa wasn’t back from her weekend off, not that she had to be there until noon. This meant that Alice had everything to herself at eight on a Monday morning. Plenty of opportunity to find those contracts both she and Mrs. Monica Warren signed the week before. Alice took yet another look at her updated share portfolio to make sure it said what it needed to say.
“Where the hell is…” The words were almost out of her mouth when she spotted the folder on the bedroom dresser. Alice opened her bag and slipped the folder in.
She looked up. Someone else’s eyes met hers in the mirror.
Three months ago, Alice Culver would have had no idea what to do in a situation like this. Go ahead and die, one would suppose. What else was a young woman to do when a guy wearing all black held a pistol to her head? Scream? Cry? Spend the last few seconds of her life begging to be spared? There was no being spared from this. Alice knew right away that this had the stench of Russell Monroe all over it.
Alice Culver may not have known what to do, but Alice Monroe was a different beast.
Bang! A bullet fired into the ceiling, plaster sprinkling down to the floor. Alice’s hand remained tight around the hitman’s wrist, the grit of her teeth snarling in his face as the tall, skinny man did his best to overpower her and fire another bullet – this one into her skull.
“Help!” Alice cried. “Dee!”
Her husband had thought ahead on the panic button front. There were panic buttons everywhere in the bedroom, and with any luck, the hitman had not disabled them. Only problem? The nearest one was on her jewelry box, and she was a bit busy trying to keep this strong guy from killing her!
Alice’s only hope was knocking the loaded gun from his hand.
“No hard feelings,” the hitman growled, twisting Alice’s arm behind her back. He lifted the gun to her head again. “Mr. Monroe sends his apologies.”
He shouldn’t have wasted time saying anything. That gave Alice the perfect moment to ram her elbow into his diaphragm.
Another bullet, this one grazing the dresser. Alice slammed the panic button before diving through the bedroom door.
The hitman attempted to follow her. Unfortunately for him, a two-hundred pound ex-Marine was barreling through the front door, taser in hand.
“Get the fuck down!” Dee cried. Alice didn’t know if that was directed at her or the hitman, but either way, she hugged the back of a living room couch and hoped for the best.
There were no more gunshots. Only the grunts of the bodyguard crunching the hitman beneath her body as they both fell to the ground.
“Get out!” Dee yelled at Alice.
She scurried up, stumbling in her heels as she erratically searched for her bag of contracts. A scream of pain erupted behind her the moment she reentered the bedroom and grabbed the abandoned bag. When she walked back into the living room, the hitman’s firing arm was grotesquely dislocated, Dee holding him down and cell phone to her head.
“Take care of this!” Alice raced out of the penthouse and to the elevator.
***
Adrenaline fueled Alice Monroe over the half hour it took her to get back in the car and rolling down the avenue right before the morning rush. She caught her breath and stared at her phone. She wasn’t looking to call her husband or the police. Instead, she turned on the camera and fixed her hair and makeup. I can’t go to the shareholders’ meeting looking like this. Russell would be there. She needed to look extra pretty for him – the man who had taken yet another hit out on her life.
“Everything all right, ma’am?” the driver asked.
Alice shut her compact. “Everything’s fine now, thanks. Just a small disturbance in the apartment.” She closed her eyes and meditated the rest of the way to the office. No sense marching into that morning meeting with fear shaking her veins.
“Fucking bastard,” Alice muttered. “This ends today.”
Luckily, there were no more attempts on her life between the car and the executive office. Alice had composed herself by the time her driver let her out of the Town Car. The doorman rushed to greet and escort her to the executive elevator. She had the whole thing to herself for the next two minutes.
The doors opened to a busy, frantic office.
Every major shareholder was there. More than last time, anyway. Most of those men were the same, but there were new faces that Alice had only ever seen in pictures. Few were women. Most were older men who had about as much love for her as they did for rats. They gave her a few greetings, since she was Mrs. Monroe, after all, but none of them held any real respect for her. Fine with Alice. With any luck, most of these men would be out of her hair by lunch.
“Damon.” The moment she saw her husband, she fought the urge to go to him and demand to be held. Not here. Not now. Later. “Can we talk?”
Her husband pulled himself away from a group of shareholders and followed his wife into her office.
As Alice hoped, both Clayborns were sitting in her office, dressed in their usual pantsuit uniforms. Only now Nigel Clayborn sported some fresh bruises and cuts on his face. He visibly flinched as Mr. Monroe approached from behind.
“Don’t be surprised if you get a call from your bodyguard,” Alice said. “Your father hired a hitman to kill me this morning. Dee’s taking care of it.”
Damon’s eyes grew. “What?” The Clayborns expressed the same sentiment when they turned to look at Alice.
“I’m not kidding. I almost got shot in the head. The fucker even explicitly said that your father hired him.”
“That’s…”
“Keep in mind that this is the man who lit your mother on fire and then lit my apartment up. He is not above hiring a fucking hitman to put a bullet in his daughter-in-law’s brain.”
“Holy shit.”
Alice met Sarah Clayborn’s gaze from across the room. The assistant was the first to avert her eyes. “Your father is a monster. You know this. I’m only telling you about what happened right now because I want you to know what we stand to lose if this meeting goes south.”
“Alice.” His hands were on her arms, holding her in place as if she were in any danger of running off. “I know what we stand to lose. Something I refuse to lose.”
“Same here.” She pulled her husband’s head down for a much-needed kiss of comfort. “Let’s go kick some ass.”
“For what it’s worth, I would never be able to tell that you were almost killed this morning.”
“Thanks. That was the look I was going for.”
Alice beckoned for the assistants to follow her and her husband out of the office. The main conference room was already populated with most of the guests. Alice went in last, catching the eye of Russell Monroe after he got off the phone with someone.
He was shocked. And greatly displeased.
“Good morning, sir,” Alice said in the most deadpan voice she could muster. “Hope that you’re doing well. I know that I am.”
Russell sputtered something as his daughter-in-law
went to the front of the room with Damon.
“If we could have everyone’s attention, please!” Better Damon than Alice saying that. Not only was he male and by blood a Monroe, but his voice was able to carry in ways Alice’s could never hope to achieve. “We have something incredibly important to address before we formally start this morning’s meeting. I know most of you have places to be later this afternoon, and I fully intend to make sure you get there on time. Thank you!”
One by one the chairs were filled. Alice flipped open her folder of contracts. Behind her, Ms. Clayborn quickly hooked her boss’s cell phone to a projector. Mr. Clayborn was effectively useless, but at least he looked pretty with his cuts and bruises. By pretty, one meant he at least represented the physical prowess existing between the married Monroe couple. Damon will kick your ass too if you piss him off enough. Doubtlessly he was hiding how much he stewed in thought over what had happened to his wife that morning. Either that or he was still in shock. Alice knew she was.
“What’s this about?” asked one particularly aged man in the front of the room. His glasses were so thick that he had to use an assistant to relay what was written on the projector. “I thought the meeting didn’t start until nine sharp.”
“Indeed, that is what the agenda says.” Damon gestured to a stack of manila folders in front of him. Alisha began passing them around, her natural hair making more than one man at the table uncomfortable. Good. Alice reveled in making these men as uncomfortable as possible. Alisha seemed to enjoy it too. The first person to make a nasty comment about her hair was asked what was so professional about his open fly.
So the tone was set for the next ten minutes.
“Have a seat, Father.” Damon gestured to an empty chair toward the front of the table. “This won’t take long.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Russell hissed, standing only a few feet away from his son. Alice could still hear him. “We need to get the projected returns out of the way. Half of these men are convinced we’re in the red after you announced that hospitality pet project of yours!”
“First of all,” Damon said calmly, “it is not a pet project. It is an important endeavor my wife and I are undertaking.” He gestured more vigorously to the empty chair. “Second of all, I’m going to take this disagreeable attitude of yours as stemming from a business deal gone wrong this morning.” Damon straightened his back. “Am I correct, Father? Something didn’t go your way this morning… did it?”
Russell spun around and sat his ass down. His glare was reserved solely for Alice. “Let’s get on with it!”
“My pleasure.” Damon drew in a deep breath. His stature grew twice as large, his broad shoulders almost blocking Alice’s view of the long, filled table. That’s my husband. Look at him. So damn kingly. Alice couldn’t help but copy his smirk behind him. This was going to be her favorite part.
This was why they got married so quickly.
This was why they were in such a hurry to have children.
This moment was why they had put off their fanciful dreams of a lovely wedding and a relaxing honeymoon. Why they couldn’t enjoy their time getting to know one another, even if they were already sure that marriage and a life together was what they wanted. Why Alice hadn’t talked to Candice or her family for days, weeks. There was no time. Her mind was too full of her other obligations.
This was it. It all came down to what Damon Monroe said next.
“As of six am this morning, when portfolios and accounts updated from weekend activity, my wife and I now own the majority shares of this company. I don’t have to tell you what this means.”
The table was silent.
Then…
“What?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Since when did this happen?”
“Explain, Russell!”
The patriarch was as pale and wallowing in disbelief as his friends. Alice had to contain another smirk. Be professional. Just like greeting an ornery crowd at Blue Bird.
Ms. Clayborn clicked on the projector. Alice’s portfolio was projected for all to see. Sure enough, the latest shares from Mrs. Warren had come through, showing that Alice Marie Monroe now owned over 20% of Monroe Industries. Combined with her husband’s 32%?
Could anyone say… controlling interest?
“This is illegal!” someone shouted.
“Is it?” Damon’s droll voice almost knocked that shareholder senseless. “How is it any different from when my father and I controlled this company with our combined shares?”
“Damon.” Russell stood, his face so red that he looked like a ripe tomato. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He shrugged in his three-piece Brioni suit. “What you always trained me to do, Father. Lead this company to bigger and better things.”
“When I’m dead!”
Alice couldn’t help but snort at that. Too bad you won’t die sooner.
“How the hell is bringing in that whore leading this company to bigger and better things!” Russell’s spittle hit his son before his finger pointed in Alice’s direction. “What have you done, Damon? What have you done?”
Both Damon and Alice remained unfazed.
“This is a hostile takeover!”
Damon dropped a folder onto the table. “It’s not hostile unless you refuse to give up control. Face it, Father, your time is up. You did an admirable job running the company, but now it’s time to change direction toward the future. Don’t worry. I fully intend to do what’s best for the company. The first step is getting your hands off it.”
“Out!” Russell flung a wild arm to his side, almost hitting the man sitting next to him. “Everyone out!”
About half of the table grabbed their things and bolted from the conference room. The other half remained behind, still unsure as to what was going on. Eventually, Russell shouted at them hard enough that not only did his face turn blue, but the remaining shareholders outside of anyone named Monroe vacated the room. The only unaffiliated parties to remain behind were the Clayborns and Alisha, the latter of whom was dismissed to direct the shareholders to another room.
“How dare you,” Russell spat. “How dare you embarrass me in front of the company like this. Who the fuck are you to do this? What are you doing?”
Damon finally dropped his façade. The look he shot his father held nothing but disdain. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I took some hints from you. Everything I’ve done today? I’ve learned from you. Except I didn’t cheat anyone or try to have someone maimed or killed. I know what you did to Mother. I know what you’ve done to my wife.”
Alice waited for her father-in-law to deny anything. Instead, he laughed, throwing back his head and slapping the table in front of him. “This is rich, even for you, boy. You’ve lost all sense of reason, you know that?”
“No, Father. You’re the one who lost reason a long time ago. I should have seen it sooner, but my eyes were not completely open until recently.”
“Because of her!” Such a violent finger to point at Alice, who stepped forward with her chin tipped high. Remember who you are, Alice. You belong here. This is your domain now. “You let this whore into our family and would destroy everything we’ve built? You’re no son of mine!”
“Too bad you don’t have any other heirs, Father.” Damon inadvertently made eye contact with Ms. Clayborn, who turned away. “Too bad you killed them all.”
“What are you talking about!”
“I’m talking about Eddie! Or have you forgotten your other son?”
Alice took a step back. Everyone but Russell took a step back. When Damon finally unleashed his pent up anger? The whole room shook.
“My ex-wife’s child was defective. The doctors said so themselves. Would’ve been lucky if he learned to tie his shoes before he went off to community college.”
“Jesus Christ, Father!”
“As for her?” Sarah ducked behind her brother while Russell referenced her. “Please. Like I would let the
help have any child of mine.”
“You’re garbage, Father.”
“Says the boy who insists on tainting our gene pool! You’re unbelievable. I should have turned down your mother’s hand when I had the chance. Should have known she would pass her crazy on to you. Here I thought you would be a perfect specimen. All our brains and determination… all the Johnsons’ good looks. Well, before the fires, anyway.”
Damon curled a tight fist and moved his jaw as if to bite his own father’s throat.
“That damn Clarise insisted I go through with the union. Wasn’t bad enough that she took my company from me when it was rightfully mine to take. Bitch had to go and insist I make the greatest personal folly of my life.” Russell glared at Alice again. “Ms. Culver is beautiful, son, but will your children be beautiful? Will her hideous family drain us of everything we’ve worked so hard for? Have you even met her pathetic excuse for a brother?”
Oh, hell no.
Alice pushed her husband out of the way. Nobody – and that meant nobody – came for Terrence to her face!
“Ah, Ms. Culver.”
“Shut up!” Here it came. All the stress, all the disbelief, all the fear and anxiety… bubbling up from Alice’s chest and threatening to vomit on this monster. “Call me Ms. Culver one more time!”
Russell’s lips parted.
“That’s Mrs. Monroe to you, fuckhead.” Alice wanted to cackle at the look she received in return. “You don’t get to disrespect me. You don’t get to control everyone’s lives anymore. You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies as if you’re a fucking god!” Russell wasn’t the only one who could jab fingers into people’s faces anymore. “Your time is over. Your reign of terror has come to a huge, burning end. I am in charge now!”
Even Damon raised his eyebrows at that assertion.
What did Alice care? She loved her husband. Damon had taught her almost everything she had learned in the past several weeks. He was her other half, her guiding light, the reason she went to bed feeling better than when she woke up. Yet what did he really know about what was going on beneath his nose? Did he know what he had done when he took Alice under his wing and declared her his fated match? Did he know what destiny he was ascribing to? Did he fucking know what she was truly capable of?
