by Rebecca Rode
A flush spread across Alan’s cheeks, and his eyes widened. Only when he glanced over her shoulder did Shelby sense that the room held someone else. She turned and stared into the face that had haunted her dreams for the last four years.
Chapter 3
IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, SHELBY HAD been a fighter. Not just a fighter for causes, but a knock-down-drag-out fighter. She’d come home so often from school with black eyes or busted lips that her mother had refused to let Shelby get her ears pierced because some other girl was bound to rip out an earring. Shelby had given and received plenty of punches growing up.
Staring at Wade—in Alan’s conference room with Alan’s consent—she felt like she’d been sucker punched in the gut. All the air rushed from her lungs, and she stood frozen in place for a few seconds. Then, with a loud noise, her lungs sucked in air again. Now she knew why Wade had come to San Francisco.
Shelby spun around and faced Alan, her betrayer. She couldn’t believe he’d set her up.
“How could you?” Shelby hissed. She turned and strode to the door.
Philip still held it open, his eyes wide in surprise. She blasted past him and into the waiting room, where Shang Junior had jumped to his feet, his eyes darting between her and his father.
“Shelby, come back.” Alan hurried up behind her and grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn around to face him. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“And yet you know what it looks like.” She brushed at her eyes, hating the weakness of tears.
“His company sent him as the replacement architect working on the project you’ve been assigned to.” Alan released his grip and rubbed her arm where his hand had clutched her so hard.
“You couldn’t warn me?”
“Would you have come?” He had her there, but she didn’t answer. Alan leaned closer and lowered his voice. “This really is the job you’ve been hoping for. If you can turn this project around, you’ll have your pick of employers.” He stepped back. “Don’t blow it because of old issues. You told me yourself he was history.”
Shelby took a deep breath, opened her purse, and pulled out a mirror and tissue. The day had already turned into a disaster, and she held responsibility for part of it. Fine. She could own that. Pretending a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she fixed her makeup. By the time she felt more in control, she also looked the professional. She shot Alan a scathing look and headed back to the conference room.
***
Wade stood frozen in place as he watched Shelby storm from the room. No way would a Love Potion hot chocolate have softened up the look of loathing she’d directed at him. She must hate him.
He turned to stare out the window onto the vista before him, the Bay Bridge off to the right, with its connection to Yerba Buena Island. Shelby had once talked about hiking on the island, about how fun it was to have a view of both the Oakland skyline on one side and the San Francisco skyline on the other. Someday, she’d said, they would tour the City together, and she would take him to all her favorite haunts—Pier 39, The Cannery, Ghirardelli Square, Alcatraz, Golden Gate Park, China Town, Golden Gate Bridge, riding a cable car. She’d talked all the time about the many museums in the City and even the opera, though he knew for a fact she wasn’t a fan of opera music. She’d insisted it was a bucket list experience to visit the theater.
Letting out a breath, Wade tried to decide what he should do. He didn’t want to say something to make things worse. All his dreams of having a chance to talk with her, to get to know her again seemed like simple flights of fancy when held up against that look. Something niggled at the back of his mind, a memory of something his mother had said right after Shelby walked away and Wade had realized she wasn’t coming back. What was it? Something about emotions, even negative emotions. She’d thought he should keep trying for Shelby, if he really loved her.
Any strong emotion can be turned around. Shelby’s hurt. She’s furious with you now, and I imagine she thinks she hates you. That’s powerful, Wade. You can’t fight indifference, but hate you can turn around. She loved you once; she can love you again.
Wade had held on to that thought ever since. Now, faced with the memory of Shelby’s fury, his confidence withered. How could he possibly turn that around? He wasn’t anything special. Not to her. Not anymore.
At the sound of voices moving closer, Wade turned around. He closed his eyes for a second, as he always did before an important presentation. He needed to look and sound like the confident and talented architect he knew himself to be. Yes, he might be his company’s second choice for this job, but he knew the only thing he lacked was seniority.
When Kepnes’s wife had been diagnosed with cancer, Wade had finally understood why the man had seemed so distracted. It also helped explain why the job’s problems had continued to mount. A lot more rested on Wade than his personal happiness, but, as Shelby entered the room, that stayed in the forefront of his mind.
She gave him a single nod of acknowledgment before taking one of the chairs. Wade turned to Mr. Bradley for direction, but the older man simply walked around the table and took the chair facing Shelby. Wade stepped forward and sat in the seat beside hers. He lifted his briefcase and removed the large tablet that contained the files for the project. His hands didn’t even shake as he typed in his password. Not much, anyway. He tried not to inhale too deeply. She still wore the same perfume.
Closing his eyes again, he worked to ground himself. If Mr. Bradley decided Wade wasn’t the right man for the job, all hope at a chance to connect with Shelby again would disappear. That must not happen.
“So what do you have me working on this time, Alan?” Shelby asked.
Wade opened his eyes and found that she had also opened a tablet. Same make and model as his. Even the same color. He almost remarked on it but decided to keep his mouth shut until Mr. Bradley wanted information.
“Shelby, I know you’ve heard about the island resort project,” the attorney began, “because it’s been in the news. If you recall, the development will have four distinct villages from different parts of the world.”
“You’re giving me that?” Shelby shifted in her chair, excitement coloring her voice for the first time.
Wade straightened a little, frowning. Kepnes had confided some concerns about the project, one being a lack of information sharing. Wade struggled to imagine being shoved into a project with no advance information. It seemed a poor business practice.
“Do you have a question, Mr. Masters?”
“Uh ...” Wade fumbled for something to say, not sure how to put his discomfort into words. If he wanted to tick Shelby off, he only had to imply she needed someone to speak up for her. They might be developing the cultural immersion resort in phases, but it still required an overarching perspective. “I had the impression Ms. Nash was already on board with the project.”
Mr. Bradley sent Wade a piercing glance before turning to Shelby. “Ms. Nash is good at what she does. I have no doubt she will step in with her usual finesse. Now, about the development—” He straightened his papers. “We have smaller-scale project managers for each of the individual phases. Shelby, you’ll have a couple of responsibilities. One is rather discreet, and you’ll get your instructions in an email. The other will be to work with the lead architect.” The attorney nodded to Wade.
“What kind of problems have you been having?” Wade wanted to know the Grantham position in order to compare it with what Kepnes had told him.
“I thought you were up to speed with the project,” Shelby said, her brow arched.
“Kepnes complained about not getting all the information he needed to do the job.” Wade cleared his throat. “I confess I find it disturbing that Ms. Nash is just now finding out about this assignment. That means she’s even farther behind than I am.”
“Alan trusts me to do the job the way he wants it done.” Her voice stayed soft and calm, but her closed body language, crossed arms and legs, practically dared him to disagree with her.
Wade had faced that unscalable wall before, so he knew better than to try. He shifted back to Bradley. “Sir, I have every confidence in Ms. Nash’s abilities—I attended school with her, as you know—but it’s highly irregular to dump someone into a project of this scope with no preparation.” He couldn’t shake the sense that something else was going on. What hadn’t they told him?
When Shelby started to bristle, the attorney held up his hand. “The development, overall, is proceeding well. Yes, it’s had its share of challenges. We have a good team there now, and they’ve developed a rhythm. The first phase is nearing completion, and the second phase is about halfway done, with preliminary work underway on the other two villages.” Bradley’s shrewd gaze seemed to challenge Wade.
He swallowed, understanding where Shelby had gotten that look. His mind raced. Nothing Bradley had said added anything to what Wade already knew. His gut told him there was more, so why not share? Charles Grantham had a legendary reputation for paranoia. Did his staff operate that way too?
“What aren’t you telling me, sir?” Wade asked, his voice soft.
Bradley glanced from Wade to Shelby, keeping his gaze on her longer, before letting out a deep breath. “You already know this island resort is to be Charles Grantham’s signature project. His legacy, if you will.”
“Right, like Disneyland is for Walt Disney,” Wade said. “And?”
“You don’t get to be as big as Grantham Industries without making enemies.” The attorney folded his hands on the table before him. “We believe there’s been some sabotage on the island.”
Wade’s stomach lurched. Everything he’d read about the project and even one of Kepnes’s cryptic comments fell into place. “Then why are you sending Shel— Ms. Nash there?”
“Why not me?” she asked, irritated.
Wade continued to meet the attorney’s gaze, seeing in the older man’s eyes the same concern. Wade understood. Bradley didn’t want Shelby to know ... what? The way she seemed to accept the assignment, it must be the attorney’s normal mode of operation with her.
“We’ve increased security, and it is an island,” Bradley said. “What better place to keep her safe?”
“Wait. What?” Shelby lurched to her feet. “You’re only sending me so you can get me out of the way?”
“Of course not. Sit down, Shelby. Please.” When she did, Mr. Bradley rubbed his face. “Mr. Grantham was debating which of his two top project managers to send in when Philip’s staff confirmed the latest event was no accident. When your father heard that, he wasn’t going to send you.”
As she shifted in her chair again, Mr. Bradley raised his hand. It seemed a practiced motion.
“Philip assures me,” Bradley said, “that with everything he’s put in place, it’s safe now for you to work this project.”
“Sorry. I’m not sure I understand,” Wade interrupted. “Are you saying that Shelby’s a target?” He looked at her then. She rolled her eyes, of course.
“Yes.” Bradley said. “She was identified in a threat that came in yesterday.”
“Because of a cultural island retreat in Southern California?” Wade couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.
“No,” Philip Shang said from behind them. “Because she’s seen as a way to force her father’s hand.”
“To do what?” Shelby asked.
“Grantham Industries is a diverse company with many different holdings.” Philip didn’t look at anyone but Mr. Bradley. “Some have uses that the US government has found ... convenient. Not everyone is happy about it.”
Wade studied the attorney, who frowned, like opening up about this bothered the man. Wade’s uneasiness at the direction the conversation had taken continued to grow. His father had ranted for years about big businesses that did whatever they wanted and didn’t care about people hurt in their pushes to dominate the market. And now he was working with one that had secret contracts with the government? Wade felt like he was in an espionage movie. He didn’t like it at all.
“Okay,” Shelby said as she crossed her arms, “this is starting to make me feel slimy.” She pinned first Mr. Shang and then Mr. Bradley with one of her pointed looks. “I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with a company that does secret contract work with the government.”
“You have no need to worry about that,” Mr. Shang said. “It’s technical in nature and highly classified.”
“Then why are you a target?” Wade asked.
“Grantham Industries is always a target,” Mr. Shang said. “As is any large corporation that has a presence around the world. I will not go into details and neither will Mr. Bradley. Just know that we are aboveboard, and you have no cause to be concerned in your scruples.”
Wade glanced at Shelby, surprised to find her watching him, her expression as worried as his must be.
“Mr. Bradley,” Shang Junior said from the doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I have a word with you and Mr. Shang out here?”
When the two men had stepped from the room, Shelby went over to the window that overlooked San Francisco Bay. Wade took his time getting to his feet and walking slowly to stand beside her. He shoved his hands in his pockets, not looking at her. In the distance, a few sailboats slipped across the bay. Shelby knew how to sail and used to talk about teaching him how.
“What are they hiding?” he finally asked, his voice low. “Because, to be honest, my instinct is to go back to Chicago and suggest my firm pull out of this project. How well do you know these guys?”
“Alan has been like a father to me and Philip a stern uncle.” Shelby looked up at Wade with a troubled expression. “I trust them not to do anything that might hurt me.”
“That’s not exactly saying you trust that Grantham Industries is on the up-and-up.” He considered her upturned face for a second, recognizing the change in her expression, the hardening set to her jaw. He asked, “You’re going to take the project, aren’t you?”
She nodded and turned back to the window.
“Just like that? They still haven’t told you much of anything about it.”
The old Shelby he knew so well shot him a shrewd sidelong glance. “You think I let my paranoid father dictate how much I know?”
Wade let out a deep breath. Something felt wrong about the whole thing, something about Shelby herself. He couldn’t shake the feeling she needed something. But he wanted very much to find out what.
“All right,” he said. “This should be interesting.”
Chapter 4
SHELBY SLIPPED INTO ONE OF the reclining chairs and reached for the seatbelt. She hadn’t flown in her father’s private jet in years, insisting on flying business class instead. It looked more like someone’s living room than the inside of an airplane. Kind of a combination living room/office. She used to wonder who used it besides Alan and his staff. She couldn’t imagine her agoraphobic father leaving his house, much less getting on a plane. It looked like the same one she’d ridden on with Philip and Alan all those years ago.
Wade took the seat next to her, leaving the couch for Shang Junior and the female guard from that morning. Of course, Shelby’s chair faced the couch. Awkward. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. She didn’t like takeoffs and meant to focus on work once they were in the air. When she’d told Wade she knew a lot more about the island project than she’d been told, she hadn’t been kidding.
Plenty of information could be found on the internet. Grantham Industries, after all, had been required to get permission from the federal government and the state of California in order to expand the little slip of land off the San Diego coast to create a manmade island. The aerial photographs Shelby had studied, taken during the process, reminded her of a science-fiction terraforming project. Hopefully without evil aliens.
The captain announced they had been cleared for takeoff. She shifted to see out the window better, not wanting to miss the view of the Bay Area from the air.
She tried to igno
re Wade beside her. He wore her favorite cologne, the one she had first introduced him to. During the meeting, she’d managed to ignore it, but now ... It brought back so many memories. She’d liked the fragrance well enough at the mall, but when he’d put it on, he’d brought his own something to the smell.
Her pulse quickened at the memory. Irritated, she tried to analyze her reaction to the smell, thinking of the science behind it, of the molecules of the fragrance responding to a person’s skin and hormones, the complex mixture of all those chemicals—water, fat, acids, sugars, salts, proteins ...
What she really wanted was to snuggle against his neck and breathe him in.
Shelby leaned away from him, as far as she could, and rested her cheek in her palm. Didn’t she hate him? Hadn’t she told herself that over and over again for years? He’d rejected her because of who her father was. Like she had any control over that. It was absolutely ridiculous to still respond to him in this way. It made her feel weak, a simpleton who let hormones control her. She wouldn’t do it.
From the side, she sensed movement from him, and a whiff of his cologne hit her again. Was he doing that on purpose? She straightened, prepared to say something. He sat with his laptop open, earbuds already in his ears. He glanced at her and pulled out a bud.
“Sorry, is that blowing on you?” Wade reached up, shifted the air vent a little, and returned the earbud. He leaned over his computer, like he’d already forgotten her.
Shelby pulled the dagger from her heart. All these years she’d grieved the death of their love, vilified him, and agonized over what they might have had. Apparently, he hadn’t even given her a second thought.
Glancing up, she found Shang Junior studying her. He no longer had the disdain in his expression, so her little face-off with him must have done something. The project reminded her of the first one she’d taken after graduation. She’d felt surrounded by enemies then too. But the years of working with lots of different people in many countries had taught her a few things.
