Secrets & Chance (The Sterlings Book 1)

by Lynn Hastings

  His father had been unsuccessful, of course. Right before Chance quit Sterling Family Enterprises, Douglas had set his eyes on his grandmother’s seat as chairman of the board. Baylor may have been CEO, but Grandmother had the final say-so. She sat on the throne of glory, and her son wanted to toss her off it. Douglas attempted to justify his actions by saying that his mother was old and her capacity to effectively steer Sterling Family Enterprises through the twenty-first century was diminishing.

  Chance remained solidly on his grandmother’s side. Instead of fighting for his father, he chose to fight against him. He advised his grandmother of his father’s plans, which allowed Edna to victoriously fight back.

  But five years after taking a position as general counsel of the family business, Chance had had enough of the constant battles to take over. One of the brothers was always attempting to make a move against the other. The only reason the business stood standing and evolving was because of Grandmother. By the time Chance had resigned, he viewed his father in the worst light and had lost all respect for the man. He hadn’t seen his father since he left the company. They’d spoken briefly on the phone but only regarding business. Douglas would only call to ask Chance where to find this brief or that report. The thought of reaching out to his father gave Chance anxiety, so he never did it.

  Chance stepped out of his vehicle. Rosalie was staring at him, which made him wonder what she was thinking. The look on her face said she didn’t like what she saw. He tried not to notice how her nipples poked the thin material of her shirt. The gentle breeze thrust whatever fragrant perfume she was wearing upon him.

  “Hey, Chance, are you still there?” Victor, head of legal for Southeast projects, asked.

  “Yes, I heard you.” He considered ending the call and telling Victor he would call him back, but the issue of Miami not getting these particular blueprints submitted by day’s end was too important. He watched Rosalie put the handle on the nozzle, rush into her car, and start the engine.

  “What the hell, Victor? Whose job was it to submit them?”

  Rosalie had left her gas cap unscrewed.

  “You know, that chick.”

  Chance tapped Rosalie’s window. “No, I don’t. What’s her name?”

  “Becky Wright. She’s hotter than she is smart.” Victor chuckled as if that amused him.

  Chance’s frown intensified. “You left your gas cap off,” he said as he screwed it back on and closed the cover.

  Rosalie said, “thank you,” but Chance couldn’t say, “you’re welcome,” because Victor had just told him what he already knew, which was that the only solution to rectify the problem was to call Jack Lord and have him pull some strings. He wanted to shout a string of profanities but didn’t want Rosalie to think he was an angry person, even though he wasn’t a happy person.

  He raised a hand in a gesture that said, “you’re welcome,” and she drove out of the station so fast that she cut off another car. Chance watched the tail end of her car make a left at the light and turn onto the freeway’s on-ramp.

  “So what do you want to do?” Victor asked.

  Chance allowed himself to breathe again. “I’ll handle it. See you next Tuesday.” He ended the call.

  He finished filling his tank, and before long, he was back on the road. There was no way he wanted to call Jack Lord. The guy wasn’t hard to deal with, but one month into the job and now this? Victor’s department had failed at the simplest task, which made Chance look as though he ran a shitty division. Before making the phone call, Chance decided to ask Edna about Rosalie after he finished getting to the bottom of her strange phone call.

  As Chance navigated the winding road through the mountain pass, he slid a nervous hand down his face. In just a second, he would ask his system to call Jack Lord. But first, he recalled the day he shook on becoming the new general counsel of Lord and Lord Enterprises. Jack had given him no particulars about why he was replacing Lawrence Meadows, the last person who held the position. All he’d said was that he wanted a person who had remarkable instincts. Jack couldn’t know if Chance was that guy until he proved he wasn’t.

  Chance thought it was a total mind-fuck and sounded too much like something his father and uncles would say. He almost declined the position. But Jetson Gordon, whom he had worked for on a contract basis since leaving the family’s business, sat across from him at the conference table. Jet was looking him in the eyes, nodding with his lips smashed together. Chance figured that was his way of saying, “take the job and ask me questions later.” So he stood up to shake hands with Jack Lord, who said, “Welcome aboard.”

  Jet never explained what Jack had meant by proving he had some sort of instincts that would make him worthy of being general counsel. He wondered if Jack Lord was the sort of man who wanted him to know as much as he could through osmosis. That was how it had been when working with his dad, who used to jump all over his back for shit he couldn’t have known unless someone told him. But Jet wasn’t that kind of guy, and neither was Jack. His new boss would tell him exactly what he wanted done. Jack also gave him space to make mistakes and correct them. With Douglas Sterling and brothers, mistakes had hardly ever, and more than likely never, been tolerated.

  Chance slowed down and veered to the right as he reached the end of Harvest Road. “Call Jack Lord.”

  His heart pounded like thunder as he waited for someone to answer. Mostly, Jack answered his phones, but sometimes it was one of his three executive assistants.

  “This is Jack,” the caller answered.

  Damn it, Chance cursed within. It would’ve been nice to have gotten one of his assistants to give him a bit more time to prepare the confession of his failure.

  “Jack, this is Chance.”

  “Chance, what can I do for you?”

  He didn’t sound aggravated, so Chance relaxed and explained the issue.

  “Dade County?” Jack asked.

  Chance cleared his throat. “Um, yes.”

  “That’s Victor’s team?”

  “Yes.”

  Jack paused, and in that moment of silence, Chance was struck by a clear-as-day illumination. There was something about the way Victor had mentioned his assistant, Becky Wright. He’d been too passive about her mistake.

  “I’ll fly out to Miami and take a closer look at what’s going on,” Chance said.

  “Good. I like that a lot.”

  Chance wanted to sigh with relief. He felt as if he’d passed the bar for a second time and with flying colors. He told Jack when he planned on flying to Miami and how he would bring a team that would help him do a quick audit.

  “Call Kaneisha right away,” Jack said. “Tell her to contact Floyd Bigman and let him know we’ll get the blueprints to him before midnight.”

  “Will do,” he said.

  By the time Chance pulled up to the vineyard’s gate, he was feeling good and riding high. Before the call with Jack, he’d wanted to stick around Blushing Green for a while just to see if he could figure out a way to reconnect with Rosalie. Now he was itching to get back to work and assemble a solid group of assessors to figure out what sort of lunacy was going on in the Miami office.

  Chance was almost finished with the call he had placed to Kaneisha when he stopped under the carport. Manny had already run over to stand by the door of Chance’s vehicle, waiting for him to open it.

  “So, wow, Jack wants to put you in contact with Floyd Bigman?” Kaneisha asked. “Congratulations.”

  He could feel her smiling on the other end of the line. “Why do you say congratulations?”

  “Lawrence Meadows didn’t even know Floyd existed. The fact that you do means Jack trusts you.”

  Chance turned his face in the opposite direction of the driver’s-side window, trying to ignore Manny. He hated that his grandma still paid people to park other people’s cars. It was pretty unnecessary. But Grandmother was old school in ways that didn’t make sense to Chance, although she had the ability to adjust to the
new technological age in ways that many of her peers never could.

  “So I’ll contact Floyd right away,” Kaneisha said. “And by the way, it looks as if you’ll be free to have drinks with him the Monday after next at seven. I’ll confirm this with you next week.”

  There was something jarring about the way she changed the subject to put them back on track. She made him feel as if she had stolen control of the conversation. On top of that, Manny, who was standing by his window, all obedient and shit, made him nervous.

  “Not drinks. Schedule us for lunch at noon at Cabana.”

  “Done,” she said without question.

  He twisted his mouth anxiously. He felt slightly odd about changing his meeting with Floyd Bigman from drinks to lunch. Meeting for drinks was perfectly fine and perhaps better, but he was programmed to always come up with a better idea even if there wasn’t one.

  “No, wait. Drinks are fine.”

  “Then done,” Kaneisha said without hesitation.

  Chance felt good about being mature enough to concede to a better idea made by his assistant. One thing was for sure—working first for Jet and then for Lord and Lord Enterprises was changing him in ways he never thought possible.

  Finally, Chance opened his door and apologized for making Manny wait.

  Manny pushed a hand unaffectedly. “No problem, Mr. Sterling. It’s good to see you.”

  A slow smile formed on Chance’s lips as he studied Manny’s sincere smile. Before Manny, Carlos, Manny’s uncle, had worked as the house’s lead valet and chauffeur. Carlos died about four years ago, and Mr. Garcia took over as Grandmother’s lead valet, but Manny became her chauffeur. To his grandmother, those who worked for her in the manor and out in the vineyard had become more than employees; they were friends and family.

  He shook Manny’s hand. “Good to see you too.”

  “Your grandmother will meet you in the sitting room. Teresa will take you.”

  Chance turned toward Teresa, who was standing in the doorway, waiting to escort him to a destination he’d been to more times than he could count.

  He winked. “No worries. I’ll find my way.”

  She blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.”

  The day was shaping up to be one of the best days of Chance’s life. He was thinking it couldn’t get any better as he strolled freely down the hallway. Jack Lord was basically inserting him into his inner circle. Chance had spent years getting shit on by his father and uncles, and here was a man even more successful, and definitely richer, treating him with the respect he deserved. That was all he needed in life.

  He was already trying to think of a way to let his grandmother know that he would have to leave by the next day and miss her big birthday celebration on Sunday. He could promise to return in a few weeks in order to spend some quality time with her. Grandmother liked driving out to her favorite antique shop in Napa Valley or chartering a flight to New Orleans for a day trip. Of course they would both have to clear their calendars. To her sons’ chagrin, she was still the head honcho at Sterling Family Enterprises.

  When Chance reached the entrance to the sitting room, his jaw dropped. Was his mind playing tricks on him? “What are you doing here?”

  Rosalie quickly turned and looked at him quizzically. “Didn’t I see you at the gas station?”

  “You’re Rosalie Stetson, Pete’s ex-wife.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it as she looked behind him.

  “You’re both here,” Grandmother said, sauntering confidently past them. “My two favorite people in one room. Now sit. It’s time we get down to business.”

  Rosalie Stetson was one of her favorite people? Why was he just hearing this? Chance and Rosalie looked at each other. She appeared just as puzzled as he was. And when they sat next to each other on the sofa across from the big throne-sized chair in which Grandmother made herself comfortable, the same energy that flowed through Chance’s body the first time he’d laid eyes on Rosalie returned with a vengeance.

  THREE

  ROSALIE STETSON

  Rosalie was puzzled. She had never seen this man before today. Had she? With every glance to her left, she tried to garner a better view of his chiseled features and soft gray eyes. One thing was for sure—he was definitely a Sterling man. They were all well over six feet tall, and those that didn’t abuse themselves with whichever of life’s poisons they had picked, had an angelic yet manly facial appearance, even if they were more inclined to behave like devils.

  Edna was studying them both shrewdly. “Is that a fact?”

  “Is what a fact?” Rosalie and the handsome guy asked at the same time.

  “You’ve never met?”

  Rosalie opened her mouth to say no.

  “We’ve met,” he replied instead.

  “Oh, that’s right, earlier at the gas station,” Rosalie said.

  “Before that.”

  Rosalie blinked at him rapidly, waiting for him to explain his claim.

  “On your wedding day. My cousin was the groom.” He tilted his head. “Your first wedding day?”

  It took her a moment to realize he was asking a question. “I’ve only had one.”

  He nodded as if her answer satisfied him.

  She looked at Edna. “So he’s Peter’s cousin and your grandson.” She smiled slightly at the grandson she had never noticed. “Then you were a guest at my wedding?”

  His lopsided smile made her heart flutter. “Chance Sterling. Now do you remember writing my name on the guest list?”

  Rosalie looked down at her lap, unable to stop her mind from taking her back to that dreadful time in her life. First of all, she’d had nothing to do with the guest list. Peter’s mother had handled every detail of their wedding. She was such a controlling woman.

  “We met in the alley. I was smoking a cigarette,” he said, as if those details should un-fog her memory.

  Rosalie looked up at him with a blank facial expression. At first, she couldn’t remember walking out of the church on her wedding day. Whenever she allowed herself to recall any part of the day she’d married Peter, a deep ache would form in the pit of her stomach. What was supposed to have been the happiest day of her life was marred by a deep feeling that she was making a big mistake, yet she had no idea why.

  Her mother had been over the moon that she was marrying a Sterling man. Virginia, Chance’s mother, was an absolute bitch to her and everyone else in the wedding party, changing their hair, changing their makeup, and criticizing the bridesmaids associated with Rosalie for being too fat and not attractive enough. Virginia even insinuated that Rosalie had chosen unattractive women as friends because she needed to feel like the queen of the court. Virginia’s assessment of her personality baffled Rosalie. First of all, her friends were not unattractive, and secondly, she had never felt as if she were better than anybody.

  If anything, she used to never feel good enough, especially for Peter. Of course, after completing her law degree, which was the culmination of seven straight years of college, passing the bar, and working as a public defender of white-collar crimes for Los Angeles County, Rosalie had discovered a whole new version of herself, one who could take on Virginia Sterling any day of the week, especially on Mondays.

  But suddenly she was able to see herself on her wedding day, moving down the hallway as if she were sleepwalking and desperately needing to breathe some fresh air. The door, which had been her destination, seemed to fall farther away with every step. So Rosalie picked up her pace to the point where she was almost running. It felt like salvation when her hands pushed the handle and flung open the door. But the outside air didn’t do its job. The clear air hadn’t eradicated the desire to run away.

  “There was someone outside.” She was now staring into Chance’s eyes, lost for words.

  “Well…” Edna said to reclaim their attention.

  Rosalie and Chance ripped their eyes off each other to stare absently at Edna.

  “I suspect y
ou’re wondering why I asked you here today.”

  Rosalie blinked herself back to the present, and the puzzling last line of Edna’s letter took precedence over how embarrassed she felt about Chance seeing her in such a state on her wedding day.

  Rosalie opened her purse and took out the letter. “Right, so…”

  Chance leaned forward, spreading his legs and resting his forearms on his knees. “It sounds as if you’re talking about dying, Grandmother. And you look perfectly well to me.”

  The fact that he moved so abruptly sort of unsettled Rosalie. Suddenly, she felt as though she was sitting alone on the sofa and found herself wishing he would sit back again.

  Edna flopped a hand nonchalantly. “I’m in perfect health.”

  Chance sat up straight. He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to directly challenge Edna but couldn’t.

  Rosalie figured it was her turn to chime in. “Well, that we can definitely see.” She held up the folded page and wiggled it. “But the last line of this letter is…” She shook her head, trying to forget the despair those words had made her feel.

  She could feel Chance’s gaze burn into the side of her face, and although it was slightly distracting, she remained focused on Edna.

  Edna’s thin lips stretched into a sympathetic smile. “I understand your concern, but now that you’re here and you know I’m well, that’s all that matters.”

  “No, it’s not, Grandmother,” Chance said, frowning as if that was his face’s permanent expression. “You frightened me.”

  “Darling, could you close the doors?” she asked him, clearly ignoring his distress.

  Chance sat up even straighter and took a deep breath before rising to his feet and calmly walking across the room. Rosalie smoothly slid the letter back into her purse.