Penthouse Player

by Tara Leigh

  Ah, there it was. The straw that broke the camel’s back. “You mean, my brother?”

  “Is that what you want? You want to be a Van Horne?”

  For a moment I simply stared at him. At this foolish, asinine man I was related to by some cruel quirk of fate. And then I laughed. Not the forced, polite kind. But a genuine belly laugh that had me wiping at my eyes. “You are so full of yourself, it’s hysterical.” But before he could kick me out of his office, I got a hold of myself. “I already told you what I want. Tell your gang next door to tear up the offer they’re putting together for Bettencourt.”

  He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You have some nerve, thinking you can come in here and give me orders.”

  “You’re right, I do. And not only have you decided not to make a play for Bettencourt, you’re planning on investing in the Millennial Fund yourself.”

  He pointed a finger at me. “So you do want my money.”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t take a dime from you if I was living on the street. No. Tristan is a skilled fund manager with the returns to prove it. He doesn’t need your help, and neither do I. But I won’t have you going after him just to get to me. If you want me, I’m right here.”

  There was so much I wanted to say, the words were choking me. “And I’m not going anywhere, either. I let you take my family away from me all those years ago, but I’m done hiding. Whether you like it or not, I have a mother. And a brother. And two sisters.” I took a breath as we glared at each other. “And you’re going to tell them about me.”

  “The hell I will!” he roared, the tips of his ears as pink as boiled lobsters.

  “Oh, you will.” I looked pointedly around at his ostentatious office, finally swinging off his desk and taking a few steps toward the door. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure everyone knows just how much of a family man you are. You think you’ll ever get asked to give a commencement speech again if it’s public knowledge you didn’t even recognize your own daughter’s degree?”

  “You wouldn’t dare embarrass your mother like that.”

  I wasn’t altogether sure I would, but he didn’t need to know that. If there was one thing my upbringing had taught me, it was how to bluff. “You mean the same mother that walked out of my life with a Post-it?” My voice rose several octaves and I forced myself to breathe from my belly. Rounding his desk, I planted my palms on it and leaned forward. “The truth is, you have no idea what I’m willing to do. And it scares the shit out of you.”

  He met my eyes, mutual fury warming the air between us. “Did Bettencourt send you in here to do his bidding?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m here on my own. But he knows exactly who you are, exactly what kind of man you are. And if you don’t want the rest of the world to have as little respect for you as we do, I suggest you follow my instructions to the letter.”

  I got halfway to the door before I turned. “And don’t think I don’t know who was behind that Page Six story.” A wry smile twisted my lips. “Hedge Fund Harlot—I have to hand it to you, it was a catchy title.”

  “I would have preferred that Bryce wasn’t involved,” he said, unashamed. “But he’s no stranger to appearing in society gossip rags all on his own, so it seemed fitting.”

  “Maybe. But appearances can be deceiving. You had better get a retraction before it comes out that Bryce is really my brother. Whatever reporter you fed those photographs to will look like a moron.” I tilted my head to the side, meeting his gaze head on. “Come to think of it, I’m sure he’d love to hear my side of the story. Writing an article about the richest Deadbeat Dad in history would be quite a coup.”

  I almost made a clean exit, my hand less than an inch from the knob when Van Horne’s words sliced through the skin protecting my spine, swiftly delivering their intended jolt. “You know, your mother told me she was pregnant. I figured the odds were even that she was telling the truth, and maybe five to one that it was mine. But just in case, I gave her money. Told her to take care of it. If I’d had my way, you would have wound up in a medical waste incinerator.”

  I arranged my face into a mask of derision before turning, but inside I was a boiling vat of rage and grief. “Then it shouldn’t come as any surprise you’re not going to have your way this time, either. I’m here to stay. Tristan and I are a couple, and I’m working for his company. You impacted my life exactly once, and I’ll never give you that opportunity again. On the other hand, I can put the screws to you any time I damn well please.”

  I turned the knob. “You have twenty-four hours to tell my brother and sisters about me. And I’ll be watching Wendy’s show. If I don’t hear something about how Bettencourt’s Millennial Fund is being deluged with investors in advance of the lock-up period ending this week, it’s off to the DNA lab I go.” The heavy door closed with a boom, my own personal mic drop.

  But not before I caught an expression on his face that I never expected to see, at least not directed at me. If we’d been in a crowded room, I would have assumed he was looking at someone else. Anyone else. But there was only me. It was just for a brief second, but it was there.

  Strength respects strength. In spite of everything, in spite of himself, even . . . there was at least a small part of Gerald Van Horne that was proud of me for standing up for myself. Maybe it was just a glimmer, and a begrudging one at that, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel damn good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  @BettencourtBets: Now there’s a twist we didn’t see coming!

  Reina

  Still dressed in my power suit, a peculiar mix of triumph and terror racing through my veins, I breezed into Bettencourt’s lobby as if I was wearing Nike Airs instead of four-inch heels. I felt like I could run a marathon, or at least a mile, without breaking a sweat.

  Tristan was in his office with the door closed, talking with his father. A pang of jealousy pierced my euphoric bubble. I would give anything to have the kind of relationship with my mother that Tristan had with his father. They weren’t just family, there was genuine affection between them. Tristan lifted his hand as I walked by and I returned the wave, a blush warming my cheeks as his father looked on.

  I wasn’t quite sure how my conversation with Van Horne would affect my mother, but she was bound to get an earful about just what kind of deranged daughter she’d borne. My mother hated confrontation, but I expected hysterics or anger, something.

  I kept my phone within arm’s reach, expecting an irate call any minute. But minutes became hours as I worked at my desk, and still my phone didn’t ring. By six, nauseated by the smell of Chinese food emanating from the conference room, I logged off my computer and decided to hit the gym. Maybe I would attempt that mile now.

  I almost didn’t recognize the immaculately coiffed blonde perched on the white leather couch in the middle of the lobby’s waiting area until she stood up as I drew near. “Mom?” Besides a quick glimpse in San Francisco, I hadn’t seen my mother since my graduation day, and even then it was only for a quick coffee before she ran back to Van Horne, who’d been schmoozing with heavy hitting alumni and senior administrators from Columbia after his commencement speech.

  She was wearing sunglasses indoors, a first. Lifting them from her face, she revealed eyes sparkling with tears.

  My stomach plunged. This was it, I’d finally done it. Cut the last of our fragile ties. Was I ready to truly be motherless?

  “My bold, brave daughter. I’m so grateful you had the courage to do what I never could.”

  I stood still, rooted to the floor by her unexpected words. Until she opened her arms. Then I moved, flying into her embrace the way I’d fantasized about doing since I was thirteen, my watering eyes mirroring hers. “You’re not mad?”

  “Mad? No, of course not. Surprised, yes. Nervous, yes.” She pulled back, moving her hands to my shoulders. “But elated, absolutely.”

  I sniffled. Really? But I wasn’t about to look a gift
horse in the mouth. “I’m glad.”

  “And I’m sorry, Reina. Truly, truly sorry. When I left, I was blinded by love. Gerald represented everything I’d always fantasized about. I thought we would only be apart a few weeks, months at the most. That he would change his mind and acknowledge you were just as much a part of his family as the three from his first marriage. But he didn’t. There was always another reason, another excuse. And the more time passed, the more ashamed I was of my own actions. I couldn’t turn back time, and soon you were in boarding school, then college. I think I convinced myself that you were better off without me, without the Van Hornes.” She gave a tentative half-smile, devoid of any joy. “And after being with them for all these years myself, maybe you were. I don’t know.”

  “Does he know you’re here?”

  She shrugged. “He called, ranting and raving, after you left his office. He’s meeting with his PR team now and has arranged to see his kids tonight. But he’ll be fine. Already has a way to spin this to his advantage, I’m sure.”

  I’d never heard my mother speak so dismissively of Van Horne before. He’d always loomed so large in my mind, I thought of him as an all-knowing Oz type figure. And maybe at the helm of Bull Capital, he was. In reality though, I was learning that Gerald Van Horne was just a man. He had a wife who threw her hands in the air over him on occasion, an ex-wife who couldn’t stand him, and kids who didn’t seem to want to have much to do with him at all. The more I learned about my father, the more I pitied him. “And you? Will you be fine?”

  This time her smile was radiant. “Much better than fine.” Looping her arm through mine, she propelled me toward the revolving doors leading to the street. “Come. I have a car waiting, I’d like to take my daughter to dinner.”

  Despite my stomach protesting at the thought of food not ten minutes earlier, now I couldn’t imagine anything I’d like more. We had a lot of ground to cover, and I had no illusions it would be easy to rebuild any sort of healthy, trusting relationship, but I was more than willing to try. I returned her smile. “I’d love that.”

  Tristan

  “So is that her?” I tore my gaze away from the always impressive sight of Reina’s perfect ass to discover my father studying my expression with narrowed eyes.

  I played dumb. “Who?”

  “Van Horne’s daughter. The one you think you’ve been hiding.”

  Christ. Did nothing escape his attention? “So, you knew?”

  “Of course.”

  “About us? Or about her background?”

  “Son, I realize that your generation thinks they know everything about everything. But I was once young and in love, too.” He grinned. “Plus, I’m your father. One look at your face told me all I needed to know—and that was after I heard about the two of you steaming up every hotel on your trip.”

  My cheeks grew warm. Even as a teenager, he’d always seemed to know everything I was up to, sometimes before I did.

  “And how about Van Horne? How did you know he was Reina’s father?”

  My father gave a low chuckle. “I’ve known Gerry since before you were born. He’s always been a son of a bitch, and I can remember when he was stepping out on his first wife. I’ve met Gayle plenty of times, and Reina is nearly her twin. Even so, I didn’t know for sure until I heard Gerry was gunning for us. Then I knew. It’s just the kind of move he’d make.”

  “He’s never spoken to Reina, refuses to acknowledge her existence.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Secrets that look like her don’t stay buried forever. They’ll sort it out. But more importantly, when are you going to bring her over?”

  “Soon, I promise.” I paused. “Before I do, though, I need to know. Are you going to hold her upbringing against her?”

  His narrowed eyes flashed at me. “Of course not, and you should know me better than to ask. It’s about time I get acquainted with the girl that put that smile on your face. I already like her.”

  I grinned. “Good. There’s nothing about Reina I don’t like.”

  He pressed his lips together, nodded. “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

  “What day?”

  “The day when my only son finally fell in love. It doesn’t happen often for us Bettencourts, but when we fall, we fall hard.” I managed a jerky nod, remembering every word my mother said that long ago day, and in the letter she’d left for me. His voice thickened. “You know, if your mother was still alive, I’d worship her even more than I did the day we were married.”

  “I know, Dad.” Memories of my mother flashed in my mind like old photographs, their color faded, ends tattered with age. “Remember Mom’s smile?”

  “Every day, son.”

  “Me too.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling closer to him than I had in years. “I probably should have known I’d fall for Reina the first moment I laid eyes on her. Her smile blew me away.”

  “The best ones are like that, and Reina’s whole heart is written on her face when she looks at you. It’s the mirror image of yours.” He walked to the door, leaned against it. “Have you told her yet?”

  “Told her what?” I croaked.

  He looked at me as if I was daft. “That you love her.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Just this morning.”

  “Make sure you tell her, every day. You never know how many days you’ll have together.”

  * * *

  “Did you know?” Bryce demanded, the moment I slid into the seat across from him. It was late, but he’d asked me to meet him at a hole-in-the-wall pub not far from my apartment. I knew why he wanted to talk.

  “When I met you at Ceilo’s? No. Reina didn’t tell me about her connection with your family until this morning.”

  He eyed me skeptically. “And how long has she known? Is she working some kind of angle?”

  “Listen, I know how it looks. And believe me, if I was in your shoes I might have some serious doubts about her intentions. She’s known for a while, and so has your father. But for what it’s worth, Reina’s not planning on elbowing her way into a Van Horne family portrait anytime soon.”

  Bryce grunted. “Another sister. I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised. He’s never been good at keeping his dick in his pants.” He reached for his pint glass, taking a long swallow of Guinness. “Maybe tomorrow a bastard brother will show up.”

  I gave Bryce a sharp look. “Hey.”

  “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  I signaled to the bartender for a glass of my own.

  “It’s not that I don’t like Reina. I do, she’s great. But I liked her as your girlfriend, not as a third sister.”

  “I get that.” My father’s second marriage had resulted in twin sisters, now twelve years old. One sister would have been nice, and two was plenty. Three was . . . a lot.

  He drained his glass. Another appeared, along with the one I’d ordered. “Who knows, maybe it’s a good thing. Wendy, Celeste, and I have been dealing with the asshole all our lives, it might be time to spread the love.”

  Bryce had grown up in Greenwich, not far from my own childhood home, and there had always been tension between him and his father. During his first marriage, Gerald had lived mostly in Manhattan while his wife and kids stayed in the suburbs. Not much changed after the divorce, except that the rift had apparently grown even deeper. “How are Celeste and Wendy taking the news?”

  “You know Celeste, she didn’t miss a beat and can’t wait to meet Reina.” He tossed a wry smile across the table. “And you know Wendy, too. She’s a female version of our father—all she cares about is how this will affect her. She nearly had a fit when Dad broke the news, only calming down when he promised her an exclusive on-camera interview after the press release.”

  “Tell him to watch out, she has some pretty good editors on her team. I walked away from what I though was a solid conversation about Millennial to discover that it had been edited into a puff piece.”

  “Honestly, I’m not going to
waste my breath. If there’s anyone who knows how Wendy operates, it’s my father. She was pushing for live, but he only agreed to taped, with pre-approved questions. There’s no way he’ll walk onto the set unless he has final approval over anything they want to air. How’s your fund doing, by the way?”

  Tension rolled down my spine like a slow moving, frozen river. “It’s been a bit of roller coaster lately. But nothing we can’t handle.” Bettencourt would not be sacked on my watch.

  He grinned at me. “I know, man. I’ve been on the receiving end of too many of your hits. But you don’t have to worry about going head-to-head with my old man. It’s not going to happen.”

  My eyebrows knitted together. Bryce wasn’t involved in Bull Capital at all. “How do you know that?” A healthy dose of skepticism laced my question.

  “He made it pretty clear to Wendy. Told her to run a teaser that hinted he was a buyer of Millennial, not the whole company.”

  I nearly choked on my beer. “He’s buying into my fund?”

  “Well, what Gerald Van Horne says and what he actually does are two entirely different things. But he was very clear. Bastard or not—” Bryce raised his hands, palms outward. “Sorry, his words, not mine. No kid of his was going to work for a fund that blew up at the end of their first lock-up period, whatever that is.”

  I tempered my flash of anger at Van Horne’s comment. He’d better never call Reina a bastard if I was within hearing distance. And whatever he thought of her, Reina must have pulled one hell of a number on Van Horne to make him do a complete one-eighty in the span of a few hours. “Millennial is not in danger of blowing up. Never has been.” Van Horne may have scared away a few potential investors, but my returns were rock solid. No one could dispute that.