by Ava Miles
“I understand the metaphor.” He fought a curse. “You don’t see a way around layoffs?”
Her gaze was as steady as the ocean waters outside her house. “The only way I see that happening is if you reverse some of Connor’s final decisions. His final months with the company were…erratic. Your staff isn’t sure what to expect next. Investors can’t read the tea leaves either, so your stock prices are at an all-time low. You’ve gotten away from your bread and butter, offshore oil and pharmaceuticals. Both profitable enterprises.”
“I know, dammit.” He shot off the couch, seeking the ocean air from the window. “Since we’re being candid, I didn’t agree with Connor’s decisions, but I backed him.”
“Because you were loyal to him as your brother and your CEO,” she finished for him, coming over to put her hand on his back.
The shock of her touch tore through him, so unexpected.
“Yes, I understand such complications. The desire to do one’s family duty. The need to occasionally overlook someone’s personal and professional behavior out of love, as much as to maintain the peace.”
Their eyes held. Her father ran their family company, and she’d essentially left Quinn to go work for him. All it had taken was a call for help, made at the right time. Having been raised with a family business, she well understood there could be an emotional subtext to profit & loss statements, no matter how neutral a person tried to be. She’d left her father’s company six years ago, and while it was rumored there’d been some sort of disagreement with her father, she’d never made a public statement.
Since then, she’d traveled around the world, working with Fortune 500 executives on everything from corporate restructuring to billion-dollar acquisitions. He hoped she would tell him the full story someday. If she did speak frankly about the breach, it would be a sign of tremendous trust. She guarded family secrets more closely than even the Merriams did. “I’m glad you understand, Francesca. It makes everything easier.”
“Still, you must deal with the consequences.”
“You think Connor should have been removed after the Irish offshore issue, right?” His older brother had made a unilateral decision that they would no longer pursue offshore drilling after their cousin had died on a Merriam rig. As a result, he’d pushed to purchase a piece of land in Ireland for an inland rig—something that had proven problematic given the owner’s adamant refusal to sell…and the fact that their brother Trevor had fallen madly in love with her. Ultimately, they’d ended up finding an alternate drilling location onshore, thanks to some fast work by Trevor and J.T.
“His best friend had just died in an accident he felt responsible for. Stripping him of his position then would have been cruel. Quinn, I know you and your family were in a no-win situation. Frankly, I think Trevor and J.T. found a brilliant solution to the issue in Ireland. But it didn’t convince people of the merits of the new policy. And then there was the whole screwup in Kenya involving Connor and your sister Michaela… The ripple effects had broad reach. Selling off the pharmaceutical arm couldn’t address it adequately.”
She rubbed the tightness in his back, her touch exactly the balm he needed. He was stunned she hadn’t pulled away, intoxicated by her nearness and her understanding.
“So you see why I need you?” he said. “I can’t explain or defend all that’s come before. It’s been messy, and personal as hell. Francesca, Connor thought about suicide.” Not that his brother would admit it, but he’d seen a picture of Connor sitting on a park bench during a Chicago blizzard, dressed in nothing but running clothes. The knowledge of what could have happened—and almost did—had preyed on him almost as much as losing the beautiful woman who was now comforting him.
“I’d wondered.” Her hand pressed into his vertebrae, releasing more tension, and the gesture was so familiar it made emotion knot his throat.
“He’s turned it all around now, thanks to counseling and the woman he’s fallen in love with. Louisa has worked miracles, but she’s the director of a homeless shelter in Chicago, so she pretty much works them every day, if you ask me.”
“I’m heartened to hear it.” Her hand left him then and she faced him. “All right, you put all your cards on the table, so I will as well. I did imagine what you must be facing with your family. I also know you, inside and out.”
“Yes, you always did. I’m glad you didn’t throw out some bullshit about people changing.”
“People can change in some ways through self-improvement, but the core of who they are doesn’t. That’s what we call character, and I know yours. Another business consultant might tell you what you’d like to hear. They wouldn’t do the job right. You need me. That’s why I put you in front of others on my waiting list. You and Merriam Enterprises can’t wait for obvious reasons. So we’re just going to have to figure out how to do this with everything between us.”
He looked back at her, studying her somber face. “Is that guilt I see in your eyes?”
“And if it is?” She released a long breath. “I turned down your proposal and left you—for reasons that all made sense at the time—”
“Your father called—”
“It was more than that, and you know it.” Her breathing changed again. “After the 7/7 bombings in London, some people hated me simply because I was Arab. Their hate hurt me—and you! Do you not remember bleeding from the wounds they dealt you? I couldn’t live with it if anything happened to you.”
Some punk teens had thrown stones at her, and he’d stepped in the way. The stitches had meant nothing to him—he would have done so much more to protect her—but he thought of Connor’s volatile reaction to Corey’s death, and something clicked. “I suppose if my older brother—who is one of the strongest people I know—can overreact out of survivor’s guilt, I can’t blame you for doing the same.”
“I was scared, Quinn. I expected to be on edge in Beirut. I didn’t expect it in London. Never had I felt unsafe or uncomfortable there. Suddenly, everything was different. It’s not easy to be looked at suspiciously everywhere you go. Hated for who you are. So no, I didn’t just leave because my father called for my help for the first time. I thought I’d be safer with him in Beirut, and I hoped doing meaningful work would lift my crushed spirits. Because what happened to you in London crushed them, Quinn.”
Her voice was thick with hurt and grief, and he could feel the same stones weighing down his heart, this pain so much more enduring than the projectiles that had lacerated his forehead. “It’s not fun to stroll down this path again, but I’m hearing you with different ears. Maybe it’s because I’m older. Back then, all I wanted to do was love you and protect you. It hurt that you wouldn’t let me.”
She pressed a hand to her heart. “I know I hurt you. Deeply. So yes, there is guilt. Helping you will wipe the slate clean between us. It’s one of my New Year’s resolutions. No more guilt or regret from the past weighing me down anymore.”
He stared at her. “Wipe the slate clean? Francesca, I don’t want you to do this because you think you owe me something. Certainly not as some annual New Year’s resolution exercise. Dammit, I want you to do this because you believe we might have something again, building on something we both love: business.”
Her face fell. “I can’t promise that. Don’t ask me to do so. You know how important such words are to me.”
Yes, he knew. Promises were the same to her as a gentleman’s handshake. “Fine, then, I’ll accept your help. But I’m not going to let any guilt or regret stand between us.”
She took a step back from him and lifted her chin. “What if it’s the only thing protecting me from possibly hurting both of us again?”
Which was as good as admitting she did care, that something else was holding her back. He took a step toward her, wanting to touch her, but she retreated and held up a hand to block him.
“Don’t.”
His throat thickened as he watched the agony in her violet eyes.
“Please don’t,”
she whispered.
He took a tactical step back. She lowered her hand and released another long breath.
“Then we’re agreed?” she asked. “You will find someone to take over in a week, two tops, and we will work together to restructure. In the meantime, I will email you what else I want to see and you will give it to me.”
Her directness had always turned him on. Oh, how he’d love to give her everything she wanted. “Of course. Where do you want to meet? I assume we’ll be working day in and day out until we’re finished.”
“Yes,” she said, taking a step back toward the window. “We can work here if you’d like, but we can also work at another location should you wish. My personal assistant, Alice Bailey, always accompanies me. You’ll like her. She’s from just outside Chicago. I remember your mother is from there.”
Somehow he wasn’t surprised at her recollection. “You never met her.” He tipped his head slightly. “My parents live in Napa, only an hour away.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Her pointed look had him fighting a smile. “Too late. You should interview my dad about the company.”
“That won’t be needed. Now—”
“Why is Alice coming along really? Is it because you don’t trust me to be on my best behavior? I don’t like the idea of a chaperone.” Then he laughed and thought of his Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur, who had accompanied his sister Michaela on a work expedition, along with his aunt’s butler, Hargreaves, to fulfill that very role. The fact that she was now engaged to the man she’d supposedly needed chaperoning from spoke volumes.
“Alice takes care of anything I need. She will cook three of our meals per week. I expect you to handle the other three nights. We take Sundays off. No work. Our brains will need the rest.”
“So Alice is kinda like your butler?”
She slashed a hand through the air. “These days we use the term personal assistant, but there are parallels. I was looking for someone resourceful and smart who was terrific with languages and people to make my consultancies easier. In some cases, she has served as a chaperone. Working alone with businessmen, sometimes they get ideas that require dissuading.”
He sure as hell didn’t like the sound of that. “Is she serving as a chaperone in this case?”
Francesca didn’t answer him. “She’s proficient in martial arts and speaks four languages fluently.”
“Alice really needs to meet Hargreaves.”
“Who?” she asked.
“Never mind,” he said, tapping his foot in frustration at this unexpected obstacle. If he knew Francesca, he’d never be alone with her without this Alice around.
“She’s also well versed in corporate etiquette and various cultural traditions,” Francesca continued, almost as if reading Alice’s LinkedIn profile. “An old business professor from Columbia contacted me about one of his MBA students who had an interest in international business and a background in hospitality, and I interviewed her the next day. We hit it off and agreed on a personal and professional scope of work. It has worked well for both of us. Don’t worry. She works with me behind the scenes, amassing those balance sheets you know I pored over.”
He wasn’t sure it was going to work for him.
She put her hands on her hips. “This isn’t negotiable, Quinn.”
“Fine. You decide on the location. We can do it here, another neutral site, or at my house. I want you to be comfortable.”
Her smile was all teeth. “How nice to hear.”
The important thing was that she was willing to work with him. He could figure out a strategy for dealing with Alice later. “When do you think we’ll have the restructuring plans completed if I have someone take over starting next week?”
“I’d say we’ll be finished by the end of February at the latest.”
Six weeks away. Another Merriam wedding was scheduled for February 22. Would he be drinking alone, thinking of Francesca at Michaela’s wedding like he had at Flynn’s this past Christmas? He couldn’t do that again. “What about us?”
“I make no promises there.” Her mouth lifted at the corner before falling again. “Honestly, I don’t see how a relationship between us could work. You have your duties to Merriam, and from what I’ve heard, you work all the time. My career requires me to travel significantly.”
She paused, and her violet eyes flashed with something he couldn’t understand.
“But you aren’t waving me off completely?” He rocked on his heels, awaiting her answer. “Even with Alice around?”
Her glare was all heat. “Could I stop an avalanche?”
“You’re more of a bonfire.” He unbuttoned his jacket. “Don’t you see I’m already smoking in response?”
She shook her head. “This is going to be complicated. I knew that when I decided I had to help you.”
He hated the guilt in her tone, but he wasn’t going to dissuade her from her decision, not when it was giving him the chance he needed. “We’ll figure it out, Francie.”
Her brow arched, likely at his use of his old nickname for her. But she only said, “God, I hope so.”
She took his hand, but it wasn’t a formal handshake by any imagination. It was the intimate reconnection of two hands that held deep knowledge of each other. His palm burned from the heat coming from her skin. She kept her eyes discreetly lowered, but her touch… It slayed him.
“One thing I can promise is that we will restructure Merriam Enterprises to be great again,” she said in a crisp tone. “I only need you to trust me.”
Still holding her hand, he didn’t hesitate. “I do trust you. I always have.”
“And I trust you.” She laughed. “Don’t tell anyone, but I rather like this grouchy side of you. It gives you a steely edge. You’re going to need it.”
He took the compliment, but he knew it wasn’t his edge that would see him through the challenges ahead.
It was her.
Chapter 2
Francesca poured herself more champagne the moment Quinn left.
“To righting past wrongs and being free of guilt and regret.” Her toast echoed her New Year’s resolution. She took a fortifying sip.
Emotions long buried clogged her throat. She’d already reached out to her father to begin clearing the past wrongs between them. While he was still angling for her to return as his scion, she was more interested in a personal reconciliation. Their relationship had taken a hit after she left Maroun Industries—her “birthright,” as her father liked to remind her. He hadn’t spoken to her for months.
Like she’d tried to explain to Quinn, her decision to leave him still haunted her. But her father had called her when she felt broken, and the picture he’d painted had ignited old hopes about earning her father’s approval. Leaving Quinn, she’d needed something to latch on to, and she had focused on proving herself at Maroun Industries.
Only, her work at their family company had been a disappointment from the beginning. While she’d been prepared for her father’s dominant personality and his need to have a say in every decision, he hadn’t given her any independence. Worse, he’d second-guessed many of her decisions. In the end, she’d come to the conclusion that their relationship would never satisfy either of them—she would never be the son he’d always wanted, and he would never respect her. Her dream of them working well together had turned to ashes. While it had been difficult to tear herself away from the family business and her wish for her father’s approval, she’d flourished as an independent consultant.
When Quinn had called her shortly after she’d made her resolution at the beginning of the year, she’d taken it as a sign that there were more wrongs to be righted. She’d steeled herself to see him again. To help him. She had lived with her own pain. But she couldn’t live with the fact that she’d broken his heart too.
And yes, she had wanted to see if they could find a way to be together again. When she’d told him that she didn’t see it working, she’d been willing him to
paint her a picture. He hadn’t, only talking of feelings neither of them had been able to put behind them.
Which she couldn’t deny. None of her mental preparation had fortified her heart for his presence.
She hadn’t expected her skin to tremble from her attraction to him, but his very presence had shaken her. At twenty-three, he’d been plenty manly; now he was thirty-eight and all alpha—hot, tough, and so built she’d fought the urge to rub herself all over him like she used to.
He’d been her most satisfying and memorable lover, and the only man to ever capture her heart.
Despite what she’d said, she knew Rumi had it right. For her, Quinn was the root of heaven, the morning star, the bright moon, and the house of endless love. She suspected he always would be.
For years, she’d watched for news that Quinn had finally found someone. But it had never happened. In the past year, all of his siblings had found love, and still no one whispered any rumors about him. Somehow she’d known he’d never gotten over her. She’d certainly never gotten over him.
But if they couldn’t make it work between them, she planned to exorcise him from her system. It was past time to move on. She couldn’t let another year pass regretting him and what might have been.
A knock sounded on the front door, and then Alice came bursting into the room with her contagious energy. “Check out my hair. Their stylist is a master with short layers. You’re drinking! Let me catch up. The meeting must have been just as intense as you expected.”
Francesca hadn’t wanted Quinn to meet Alice quite yet. They’d needed to square off alone. But that was over now, and she could breathe easier knowing Alice would be within earshot when Quinn was around from now on. “You rock the pixie style. And yes, it was intense. But it’s done now.”
At five eight, Alice was thin as a rail with a big, bright smile that always lit up a room. Her large brown eyes were equally expressive, all the more so because they were framed by thick, dark lashes. Their friendship was just as important as their working relationship. Alice’s humor, kindness, and blunt way of speaking had made her Francesca’s sister of the heart.
