House of Cards (Tech Billionaires)

by Ainsley St Claire

  Me: Sorry I was in a meeting. I thought we weren’t meeting until 11.

  Christopher: Since when do we adhere to a schedule? If your meeting is over, get your ass over here. I need some sister time.

  Relief floods me. His enthusiasm makes me excited to see him.

  Me: I’m two blocks away. Leaving now.

  I chug the last of my cappuccino and leave a hefty tip before I begin the short walk to my brother’s office.

  I was mad at him for a long time. We were two years apart in school, but we were close growing up. He clashed often with our parents, but then he just left us and started a new life. At the time I didn’t understand the handcuffs that came with being the oldest male in the Reinhardt family—expectations that would have required him to have the right friends, attend the right university, study the right subjects, marry the right person, and always put the business before himself. Christopher saw that this lifestyle had destroyed our dad, and he wasn’t going to let it destroy him. Unfortunately, I see his position much more clearly now.

  The elevator doors slide open, and I spot him standing at reception, talking to the woman behind the desk. Mid-sentence, he stops, rushes over, lifts me off my feet, and twirls me around. “Mag-pie!”

  I laugh. “Thoph!” I used to call him that when we were kids, though he’s always been Christopher to the world—never even Chris.

  “Come on in.” I follow him back to his office and take in the stunning open workspace with floor-to-ceiling windows and white furniture with pops of color, which ensures everyone can enjoy the bright and sunny days. Different groups are meeting in the communal open space.

  Once things settle down—and I suppose depending on how they settle down—I want to implement these kinds of design changes at Reinhardt’s offices. It’s been over a decade since they’ve had a facelift, and it’s time.

  I take a chair opposite Christopher, and we talk about my flight, my meeting, and my plans for the visit. Then he launches his first attack. “How is Mother doing?”

  “She’s managing dad’s death about like you’d expect.”

  “That means a strong front, nothing out of the ordinary, and zero emotion.”

  I nod. “I think she held back from her social commitments for about a week, and then returned to her schedule.”

  “Any tears?”

  “None that I saw.”

  “They loved each other at one point.”

  I’m not sure they did, given what I now know about my mother’s relationship with her lawyer and possibly Alex’s dad. I shrug and suppress a shudder. “I think there’s a lot we didn’t know.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  I laugh. “When are we meeting Bella?” I don’t want to tell him what I’ve learned and what Mother seems to be capable of. Not yet.

  “She’s going to meet us at the restaurant at twelve thirty.” His cell phone chimes, and he glances at it. “I’m sorry. I need to take this phone call. Will you be okay for a minute? The kitchen is right over there.” He points to a brick wall at the back of the room. “Help yourself to anything you see if it doesn’t have someone’s name on it. I’ll be right back.” He practically runs out of his office and into another three doors down.

  I check my email, and there are two messages from the wedding planner, but I’m not interested in managing those. I feel silly sitting here. I’ve already looked at all the pictures on his shelves and walls. He has his diplomas—a bachelor’s degree in chemistry from the University of Minnesota and a medical degree from the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill—hanging prominently.

  I step out, see him in deep conversation, and decide to find a drink.

  The kitchen area is huge, with tables and counter space filled with snacks and fruit. I look through the glass front of the refrigerator at the rows of sodas, juices, flavored waters, and a few bottles of champagne. So many choices. I reach for a diet ginger ale.

  “You must be related to Christopher.”

  Turning, I find a beautiful, tall, blond woman with a pixie haircut standing next to me with a bright smile.

  “Is it obvious?” I ask.

  “Well, the diet ginger ale is his favorite, and you’re the female version of him, so maybe a little bit.” She says in a low voice, “I always thought he looked like a girl.” She extends her hand. “I’m Emerson Healy. I work with Christopher. I think we met at his wedding.”

  It hits me that she was with one of the partners, but her hair was much longer. “Of course. I didn’t recognize you.”

  “I had a baby and cut off my hair. They say women do it all the time, but I will warn you, don’t. You’ll regret it. I know I do.”

  I laugh. “At least it grows back, but I’ll try to remember that. Christopher said it was okay to grab a drink.”

  “Absolutely. Take two.” She gestures to a large, clear jar on the countertop. “Those gingersnap cookies are amazing. They were brought in this morning by someone on the team. I bet they’d be fantastic with your drink.”

  “You know just the way to my heart.”

  “What brings you to San Francisco?”

  “I had a meeting with a nonprofit our foundation is partnering with.”

  “Brighter Future?”

  “Yes, do you know them?”

  “I was a mentor at Christmas. What an amazing cause, and it was so much fun, too.”

  “Do you have a minute? I’d love to talk to you about how it worked from a donor’s perspective.”

  “Sure, we can sit here or head back to my office.”

  “Either way.”

  “Let’s go back to my office. Our nanny is stopping by later, and it’s easier if they don’t have to track me down when she arrives.”

  I follow Emerson through the maze of cubicles and sit in an office similar to Christopher’s, except the view is different.

  “I love your offices.”

  “We’re getting ready to move because we’ve outgrown the space.”

  “I hope you’ll be able to replicate the openness in your new place and have these stunning views.”

  “That’s the plan. We want to hire a few more people and have some room to expand.”

  I take a bite of my cookie, and the spicy, sweet ginger explodes on my tongue. “These are delicious.”

  “Thank you.” She smiles and winks.

  “You made them?”

  “I did, but don’t tell anyone.”

  “Cross my heart.” I make the motion on my chest. “I would love your thoughts. Our dilemma is that while in San Francisco, and most other urban areas, we can find mentors who are able to contribute two hundred dollars without batting an eye, we eventually want to roll the program out into rural communities. That kind of donation may be more of a challenge for our mentors there. Do you have any thoughts about how to get people involved in a way they can afford?”

  She sits back in her chair. “Hmmm. That’s a good question. Your family foundation contributed matching funds here in San Francisco?”

  “We did. When Christopher called me about what they were doing with our store here, I knew it was something we wanted to get behind. But we’d like to match the amount donors have contributed equally. Probably needs to be the same nationwide after all the publicity we’ve received. Ideally that would be two hundred dollars per student in every community.”

  “Let me think on this.” A shadow shrouds the room, and we both watch a rain cloud pass over. “Are you still in town tomorrow?” she asks.

  “I am. I’m here until Friday late afternoon.”

  “Perfect. My best friend recently joined Brighter Future’s Board of Directors. Let’s schedule lunch to talk about it.”

  “That would be great. Who’s your friend?

  “Caroline Arnault.”

  I’m stunned. She’s quite a coup for Brighter Future’s board. She’s not only a famous billionaire, but also an accomplished entrepreneur.

  “If you think she can make the time, that would be
fantastic.” I see Christopher looking for me, and I wave to flag him down. I stand and pull a business card from my purse pocket. “This has my cell number and email address. Let me know where and when, and I’ll be there.”

  “Outstanding,” Emerson says. “I‘ll be in touch.”

  Christopher appears in her doorway. “Sorry about that.” He turns to Emerson. “We got a commitment from Fancy Pharmaceutical to buy one of my investments. It’s going to be hard for the owners to say no.”

  She smiles. “Wonderful news. I’ll wait for meeting invites when everything is ready to go.”

  He nods. “Are you ready?” he asks me.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Be careful with this one.” He nods towards Emerson. “She might try to convince you to move to San Francisco, and Mother would be really upset with me.”

  “Or maybe we can trade her for you?” Emerson counters.

  We all snicker.

  “I look forward to seeing you again soon, “ I tell her.

  “I’d love it if you were to move to San Francisco,” Christopher tells me as we head back to his office.

  “If only I could.”

  “Or Las Vegas might be a better place.”

  I look over to find him grinning at me. He’s been talking to Jonnie. I don’t know why that surprises me.

  “Well, since you emancipated yourself and Stevie left, that sort of thing has become pretty difficult for me.”

  He stops short. “Maggie, you cannot give up your life for the family company. Please tell me you don’t actually think that’s your role. We can find you an out.”

  I hook my arm through his. I’m not ready to dive right into all this just yet. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

  I do think I’m stuck, but not in a way that’s resentful. My brothers didn’t get along with my parents. Nobody gets along with my parents. They did what they had to do to escape. Unfortunately, I’m the one left holding the bag, and it’s a Reinhardt Corporation bag that weighs over seventy billion dollars annually.

  Chapter 17

  Maggie

  When Christopher and I arrive at the restaurant, Bella is already at the table.

  She stands and gives me a warm hug. “You’re losing weight. You’re getting too skinny.”

  “You always know the perfect thing to say. But I’m not sure my mother would agree.”

  She shakes her head dismissively. “She’s a tiny waif. Ask Christopher—men like curves. It’s something to hold on to.”

  Christopher has a look of complete terror. “Okay, we’re talking about my mother and my sister. I can’t go there.”

  We take our seats, and I change the subject. “It’s my fault we’re late. I got into the most wonderful conversation with Emerson about Operation Happy Holiday mentors in rural areas. She’s going to arrange lunch tomorrow with Caroline Arnault.”

  Bella nods. “She’s amazing. You’ll love working with her. She’s very down to earth.”

  “How are things going with Brighter Future?” Christopher asks.

  We spend the next hour talking about all the great things going on with them, and how fearless they’re being about expanding. It thrills me.

  Bella’s fork hits her plate with a clank. She pushes back from the table as she wipes her mouth with her napkin. “I’m so sorry to cut this short. Work is calling. You both have plans tonight, right?”

  “Yes, I’ll catch up with you after.” Christopher winks at her, and she smiles and shakes her head.

  I don’t want to know what they have planned.

  She disappears from the restaurant with many of the men seated around us watching as she retreats.

  “We have plans?” I ask.

  Christopher turns to me and clasps his hands on the table. “First, you’re going to tell me why you’re here,” he says just above a whisper.

  I sit up straight and my mouth drops slightly open; I was hoping to ease into this conversation. “You know I had an appointment with Brighter Future.”

  “Yeah. And you always jet home following your meeting. We might meet for a drink or a meal, but you never stay.”

  Could he make this any harder? “I can’t want to spend time with my big brother?”

  He gives me the give-me-a-break scowl. “Who do you think I am?” With his pointer finger, he circles his face. “Do I look like I’m some innocent, doe-eyed, good-looking guy?”

  I snicker. “You don’t want to know what I think you look like.”

  “I’m only teasing. But does this have to do with your upcoming wedding?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I had a surprise dinner guest last week.”

  “Who? Mother?”

  He snorts. “No, Minnesota would have to fall into the Great Lakes before that iceberg would leave to visit me in California. My visitor was Jonathan Best.”

  My stomach drops. “What did he want?” I ask, trying to sound innocent.

  Christopher gives me the side-eye. “He finally confessed what I’d figured out years ago.”

  I’m completely confused. “And?”

  “He’s been into you since high school.”

  I sit back hard in my seat. That was the last thing I expected him to say. “Did he tell you that?”

  Christopher nods. “Are you into him, too?”

  I nod and feel tears form in my eyes. “But it doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean? Of course it matters. All the more reason for you not to give up your life for the company. Why didn’t you tell me what Mother is trying to pull? Reinhardt doesn’t need Elite Electronics, and if you don’t want to marry Alex, don’t.”

  I take a file folder from my purse and push it across the table. I look around to make sure no one is obviously listening. “The situation has been crazy from the beginning—all hell broke loose right after you and Stevie left town, and I don’t have a good answer for why I didn’t tell you. You guys have made it clear you don’t want to be involved with the company, and you’d already gone out of your way to help me address the situation by hiring George Dayton, so I just thought I’d step up and do what needed to be done. But there’s something even weirder going on now. I need to meet an attorney here in San Francisco—someone who won’t tell Mother I’m investigating her claims.”

  He doesn’t open the file, just stares at me. “What claims? What’s going on?”

  In a small voice, I walk him through what I learned during my meeting with Patrick Moreau. He grinds his teeth and doesn’t make eye contact with me as I speak.

  “Did you sign the paper Moreau says you did?” he asks.

  “No. I would remember committing fraud and embezzling money for Herbert Walker. I have no relationship with that man, and he makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I checked my calendar, and the last time I met with Moreau, we were going through the estate. I’d never met with him alone before Saturday.”

  “So the document is a forgery?” Christopher presses.

  “That’s correct. I believe it’s a forgery. Patrick Moreau says otherwise, but I swear to you I didn’t do it. What would I have to gain?”

  “Did Alex sign his?”

  My shoulders fall. “I don’t know. Maybe? I haven’t asked him about it yet, and I honestly don’t know who to trust with anything at this point.” I sigh. “But I did find one small bit of leverage.”

  Christopher finally looks at me.

  “I figured out that if I don’t get married—or if those documents send me to jail—and the family sells the business, Mother loses even more. Dad’s will left her nothing. The house goes to the board chair, and the company shares were divided among the three of us kids and Nancy. No part of the business is in her name, because Grandfather wanted it to be direct heirs inheriting only. As it is, she owns nothing, but gets a stipend from the company. However, if we’re required to sell the business because we’re in breach of the will, the new owners aren’t going to keep her on the payroll, whi
ch means she’ll have nothing. And, if she forces me into a big society wedding, I told her I wouldn’t give her a dime either.” I laugh, my eyes wide. I can still hardly believe I managed that.

  Christopher sits back in his chair and laughs so hard people turn and gawk at him. “That’s classic!” he says when he finally catches his breath. “It explains so much.”

  I wish I found this as humorous as he seems to. “Christopher, I’m certain she and Herbert Walker are up to something and have been having an affair. I don’t know why she’d be threatening me with all these documents if there wasn’t more to this.”

  He shudders. “That frigid bitch has sex? I find that unlikely, but I wouldn’t blame her. I mean, at the funeral Nancy cried harder than we did. She loved Dad, and I believe he loved her. But you’re right. Mother is definitely is up to something.”

  He sits for a few minutes and taps the folder, still not opening it.

  The waiter tops off our water glasses and sets down the check.

  When I reach for it, Christopher stops me.

  “I’ve got this.” He takes out a black American Express card and places it on the bill. He doesn’t say anything else.

  I watch the people on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant scurry by to get to their destinations.

  Finally, Christopher looks up and focuses on something over my shoulder. “We’re going back to my office.” He picks up his phone and sends a message.

  I’m confused. I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up a finger to stop me.

  “Do not say anything.”

  When the server returns with the credit card receipt, he signs it, and I follow him out the door. I’m not sure what he’s done or what his plan is, but I try desperately to keep up as he walks swiftly to his office.

  I’m in three-inch heels and struggling with this pace. I trip over a piece of uneven sidewalk and stumble to a halt just before I fall down. “Christopher, stop!”

  Circling back to me, he takes my arm. “We need to hurry. We’re meeting with Sara in my office. I want her thoughts, and then we’ll find you a lawyer you can talk to and get to the bottom of this bullshit your mother is pulling.”