by Nicole Snow
I give her my nicest, sexiest smile. Deep down, I'm laughing my ass off.
Someday? Is she joking? It's like she doesn't know what she does to me.
How can she be blind to the crazy spell she casts? The one that's got me planning everything, right down to the four kids I'll put in her, year after year, once I've given her a first class wedding she'll never forget. Now, if I'm just able to fix the intrigue with her asshole father first...
I look over at my brothers as the opening concert begins, four guys on their stringed instruments, serenading us with the classical, civilized crap mom used to love. Not so long ago, her death screwed up my youngest brother. I thought he'd never get it together, especially after he lost Robbi the first time.
There's a wicked irony in what's changing all around us.
Now, Luke would probably hook me up with the shrinks getting cash from his mental health fund if he knew what's on my brain. Hayds would go along with it, too, hoping to triple check me before I make a critical mistake.
They're jumping to the wrong conclusions.
Their eyes drift over while the music plays. Catch them staring at Bekah several times, muttering a few words to each other, trying to figure us out.
They're suspicious of my little moscato. I get it. Even if it pisses me off, I appreciate them trying to look out at me, but they don't really understand a damned thing.
This isn't about getting my dick wet in a woman almost half my age. That kind of sex comes easy without even buying it, as I used to do every time I went up to Chandlersport, and left old Mack chuckling to himself as he watched me round up another prize.
It's so much more than temporary pussy. More than an office tryst.
It's real.
I taste it on my tongue just looking at her, feel it in my veins, have to close my eyes from the heat warming my blood every time our fingers twine.
She's mine, damn it. Beautifully, fatefully, irrevocably mine. Letting her go becomes more unthinkable with every breath, every day we're together, every scorching kiss.
I've found my missing piece. Filled the dark hole in my life. It's more perfect than I ever imagined. So fucking perfect it's leapt up with jade green eyes, and slapped me across the face, leaving my ears ringing.
Or is it my heart that echoes? My soul? Everything telling me this delectable woman is what I've been waiting for?
I can't believe I'm thinking half the cheesy, flowery crap rolling through my head. But I am when I lean over, just before the auction begins, whispering in her ear.
“We need to get away this weekend. Celebrate the end of the summer. Think we ought to revisit a certain lodge up north, maybe catch up with my boy, Jack?”
“A getaway won't hurt. I've only got a few weeks left at Neolithic, anyway. Now's as good a time as any to do some thinking about what I want next.” Her smile tells me it's on. It also says she might have figured out I'm ready to give her the world, and all she has to do is ask.
No, but it's more than that, too. Maybe it's the soft white light from the stage, or the rare peace we've bought ourselves tonight. Maybe it's temporarily blinding me to the wolves I haven't scared off us yet, but God, how the hell could it be any other way? Her face looks more perfect than ever.
I can't wait to spill my biggest secret. Can't wait to see her more gorgeous than she looks tonight.
And she will be, when we're in Maine again, and I take her on my back porch. Her eyes will make the stars weep jealousy when I get down on my knee, show her the ring, and make our loving delirium official.
The next week burns through itself fast.
We spend the weekend catching up with my family, before they head back to Chicago and L.A. I think my brothers feel better before they head to the airport on Sunday after spending more time with Bekah. They see us arm in arm, stealing kisses while their women look on, happy and approving.
Penny pulls me aside at one point, her eyes drunk on joy. “You've found yourself a keeper. Tell me we'll be planning a wedding soon?”
I don't say anything, just crack a grin. She pats my cheek, ruffling my beard, but she knows. Good thing this woman's a safe choice for a secret.
Then Bekah keeps me company the next four days, pulling long hours in the office. We break more than once for quickies on my desk. At night, we talk over our trip, and I make sure the housekeepers in Maine have an ample heads up to get the place ready for us on Friday.
Nina lets her leave early that day to pack. I tell her I'll meet up with her in a couple hours, and we'll hop in the car for the long drive up the Atlantic coast. Should put us in by midnight, back in the place where our magic began, and where I'll work it again to make us a hundred times as happy.
No, I still haven't figured out how badly I'm fucked with the merger. It's happening at full speed, and I'll probably dismiss Bekah from her internship a week early to make sure we have enough desks for absorbing Corbin's people.
My boys and girls are already groaning about how much more cramped we'll be, taking on their technical specialists and traders, plus new HR hires, to help oversee the transition. I'll probably be looking at renting out another floor of the building by the end of the year, or else relocating entirely, perhaps to a bigger venue closer to Wall Street.
Normally, it's the kind of growth I like to oversee personally. But not while I'm walking on the landmine Corbin planted, without knowing where the damned thing is, or when it'll go off in my face.
Screw it. I tell myself I'll worry more after we come home, engaged, and we start figuring out a date to get hitched before Christmas. I don't want to wait.
I'm hoping the new development will knock some sense into Jeremiah Corbin's head. There's nothing he can do as my father-in-law except come clean, or else come straight for my throat. Either way, it draws him out, ending this stalemate we've had since he showed me his teeth on the yacht.
I get off the phone an hour later than I'd like, dismissing my team. We've been busy doing conference calls with a partner pharma who wants to do a whole lot more with the money we originally invested than they said up front. I'll need approval from the new jackasses who are supposed to be my partners to give them the nod, but I think it'll do us all good.
Everybody scatters like flies to leave for the weekend. By the time I take a quick break to grab some water before I head out, there's nobody left in the office except Nina, who stops me as she's picking up her purse.
“You have a visitor, Mr. Shaw. Would you like me to stay awhile longer in case it's urgent?”
“Who?” I ask, stopping in my tracks.
“Mr. Corbin. He said there's business he'd like to discuss personally, so I let him into your office. Told him you'd be by in a couple minutes.”
“Shit!” Nina does a double take as the expletive drops like a bomb in the lobby. I run my palm over my face, knowing if chief dick himself is here, it can't be good. “Go home. No point in bogging you down. If anything comes up I can't handle myself, I'll call, but I'm confident it won't.”
“Good luck!” She gives me an awkward grin and runs for the elevator.
Who the hell can blame her? I toss my cup in the silver waste bin and bring my fists to my sides, heading for my office, ready to get whatever the hell is waiting for me on the other side over and done.
I rip the door open. Corbin stands, stiff as a board, his charcoal suit smooth against his silver tie, a perfect match for his salt and pepper hair. Sleek as the devil himself.
Behind us, there's a stern looking, tight lipped bull jammed into a suit standing against the wall. A personal bodyguard, who's tagged along to put me in my place if I try anything stupid against his boss, no doubt.
I wonder for the thousandth time just who the fuck he thinks he is? Nobody brings a strong arm into his business partner's office, even when they're on as rotten terms as we are.
And yet, he just did.
“Why are you here?” I walk toward him, hoping I'm able to hear the next lies out of his mouth ov
er my heartbeat roaring in my ears.
Forget polite. There's nothing worth holding back anymore. This isn't an ordinary partnership built on trust, and he damned well knows it.
“Certain reactions are too priceless not to see with my own eyes, Shaw. I'm very interested to know what you think of this.” He slams a folder down on my desk, plopping into the seat across from me.
Clenching my teeth, I take my chair, and pull out the two white pages. My eyes flick over the words, each more unbelievable than the last, turning my blood to molten steel in record time. “This has to be a fucking joke. You can't get away with this!”
The papers go flying. I shove them off my desk, onto the floor. He watches, a wry smile on his face, as they crash near his feet. Reaching down, he takes his sweet time picking them up, and then lays them gently on my desk again.
I have a cruel urge to find out if it's possible to decapitate a man with the world's worst paper cut. It might even be worth the broken bones I'm sure to get from his hired fist, if I so much as lay a finger on him.
“It's as much a joke as your legal team,” Corbin snaps. “You should've had them picking over the fine print, rather than sending them after Fabius' dirt like headless chickens. Perhaps they'd have noticed the disparity in our share structure sooner, and made sure you didn't lose your 50.1% majority on a technicality because you'd failed to sign off on the last bonds to Fabius in a timely manner as agreed.”
No share majority, no serious voting rights. I'm fucked.
“Leave,” I growl, flexing my fists on the desk. “You've made your move, and I'll counter it in court. There's nothing else to say face-to-face like civilized men when you're trying to steal what's mine out from under me.”
“Unpleasant, no? I think you know a thing or two about it, you wretched thief. There's a benefit to keeping my daughter on the same phone plan. A well placed bribe or two tells me exactly where she's been.”
“Nice to know you found out like a sneaky bastard, and not from the Parisian asshole whose nose I wrecked weeks ago.”
His wicked smile disappears. “Count your lucky stars. You're fortunate Ethan didn't press charges. I assured him it would be a foolish move, and we'd find better ways to get even in the end. No, no, don't thank me now,” he says, holding up a hand. “You haven't seen how big a favor I'm doing you, Shaw. How enormous a break I'm cutting us both.”
“Fuck you, and your favors.” I point my finger at him, doing my damnedest to keep the rage erupting inside me from causing me to tremble. “I'm asking her to marry me this weekend. There's nothing you can do. Go ahead, dismember my company from the inside like the parasite you are. Give the Feds the biggest financial bust in history, whenever they're able to find the Fabius dirt I can't. I'll be there to testify against you. None of it matters. As long as I have Bekah, I've won. Everything else is expendable.”
For the first time since we sat down, I see anger wrinkling his brow. “I thought you'd react this way. So predictable, Shaw. Won't you at least make a run for me? Try to break my jaw, or something? I'd love to watch Cade dole out some justice for poor Ethan's nose, demolishing your good looks so bad my little girl never looks at you with bedroom eyes again.”
“I'm not your pawn. I'm done here, asshole. Show yourself out, and wait for your wedding invitation in the mail,” I tell him, each word slurring with more hate than the last.
I'm serious about this being over. I have to get the hell out of here before I do something monumentally stupid, like throwing this fuck through the window, and letting him find his justice on the busy New York pavement below.
“No, don't bother. After tonight, you'll never see her again.”
I'm halfway to the door when the wolf says the only combination of words forcing me to give him a minute more of my time.
“What?” It flies out like a curse, and I stare his smug ass down, re-thinking whether or not violence will really make this worse.
“She's learning the truth right now. In, oh, about five minutes, give or take,” he says, glancing at his expensive gold watch. “I planned this perfectly, you see. There's no one to blame except you, Shaw. When we first lined up to do this partnership, I decided to do my homework very thoroughly, as I do with anyone I decide to get in bed with. You'd be surprised how much a person winds up on cameras these days. How easy it is to catch them at their worst with the right bribe in the right place, or remind the wrong people how absolutely fucked they are if they cross me. Like your bartender friend up in Maine. He folded, turned over everything he had on security tape. Years' worth.”
Jesus.
Fuck.
Not Mack, too. I contemplate covering my ears, shutting out his heinous voice before I get myself killed trying to silence him forever.
But the demon moves his lips again, and I'm paralyzed, hearing every dagger word. “Cade said he practically smelled the shit rolling down his leg when he told him how easy it'd be for me to buy out the town cemetery, and throw his dead wife's remains anywhere I damned well please. Isn't that right, Cade?”
“Yes, sir.” The bodyguard nods.
I see it out the corner of my eye. It's the final straw.
I'm lunging, screaming like a lion, bowling the soulless, manipulative prick over. He goes down like the empty suit he is, calling for his help.
My fist goes up, ready to do as much damage as I can in one punch. Too bad the bastard he's hired knows what he's doing.
He catches my hand, twisting it back with a sickening crunch.
Pain hits my brain like an atomic bomb. My hand is torn or broke, completely fucked up, but it's not half as bad as the sinking, helpless feeling settling in.
I grunt once, trying to move. Corbin scuttles out from under me, wiping his trousers. His smirk returns in record time as his bruiser pins me down, crushing the air out of my lungs, until I can't even curse him.
He puts his hands on his knees, leans down, and pats my cheek. “There, there, little axe. Hurts to be blunted, doesn't it? You're lucky I don't completely break you. Face it, you've been outsmarted. Time to take your losses like a man. Move on. Forget her. I'll still let you run the little things at Neolithic, if you're smart, if you swallow your pride, and manage to avoid a prison cell. Don't try to find my Rebekah, or me. If you do, she'll be certain to spit in your face, after she sees the awful truth tonight. Remember, you brought this on yourself.”
He steps on my shattered wrist, grinding his shoe over knuckles that feel like they've been turned into pebbles.
I can't hold on. Bekah, please, I fucking can't.
I'm screaming internally for about ten seconds longer. Then there's just blackness.
10
God No (Bekah)
One hour earlier
I take a break from packing to read the latest text from Grant. He tells me he'll be late, and I should eat something before we head out.
He isn't wrong about my need to stay fed. Just wish I could tell him why.
I order a sandwich from a local delivery place, something light and scrumptious to tide me over until we stop for a late dinner somewhere between here and Chandlersport. Ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door. I'm expecting the delivery guy when I open it.
Instead, there's two hallow-eyed ghosts who stop my heart. “Mom? Ethan?”
It's like taking a baseball bat across the knees. I grab the frame to prevent a full collapse.
“Don't scream, cheri. Please!” He throws his arms around my waist.
Of course, I scream bloody murder with all my might.
“Hold onto her, but be careful!” mom yells, shutting the door, getting in my face as the Frenchman holds me in a death grip meant for a wild dog more than a person. He's still got what looks like a white cast across his nose, a parting gift from the last time he tried to do this. It should've been the last time if anything in this world made sense.
They're both here. My own mother is helping him do whatever horrible thing he's after. Two incomprehensible facts
that give me a blinding headache.
“Honey, please! Stop before you hurt yourself. Calm down. We just came to talk.”
I don't know how she's watched as many dramas as she has without realizing the phrase calm down never works. Still, I somehow quit shaking just long enough to open my eyes, without trying to tear the skin off Ethan's palm with my teeth.
“I'm not talking about anything as long as he's here. Get this psycho away from me. Now!” Struggling, my hands go to his chest, and push as hard as I can.
Sighing, mom nods. “Go,” she says.
Monsieur Creep-o takes his hands off me and backs up reluctantly, idling by the door, a defeated shine in his eyes. “I'll respect your space, cheri. But please, give your mother a chance, if you won't do the same for me. She's sincerely trying to help you.”
“Somewhere we can talk? Preferably with good lighting?” Mom asks, taking my hand ever-so-gently.
I'd slap it away and run, if only the animal I never wanted to see again wasn't guarding the door. There's nothing I can do before Grant comes home. I have to pretend I care what this is about
Motioning her to the reading nook under the staircase leading up to our master suite, I run through the short list of reasons why lighting could possibly matter in this situation. I draw a total blank.
“Why are you really here?” I ask, knowing there's no easy answer.
“We want to stop you, honey, before there's a terrible mistake. I can't tell you what to do, but what kind of mother would I be if I didn't let you see the truth? I know about you and Grant, honey. So does your father, and Ethan, too.”
“And it's none of his goddamned business! He isn't even family, mom. He isn't anything!” I'm shouting in her face. God help me, the sad, wounded look on her face is the only thing that stops me from walking away.
“Three minutes, Rebekah. Please. All I ask. If you think I'm still wasting your time when they're up, I'll leave with Ethan immediately. You'll never hear from us again.”
