Banking On Love
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
BANKING ON LOVE
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
About Anna James
Books by Anna James
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published by Markham Cove Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any mean, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system, without the written permission of Anna James.
Banking On Love
Copyright © 2016 by Anna James
www.authorannajames.com
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BANKING ON LOVE
Anna James
Dedication
For Anna, Jen, Julia, Pat, and Rosanne – thanks for your friendship, support, and of course, your insight. You guys are the BEST!
Chapter One
“Mother, please stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
Rachel Sullivan released her death-grip hold on her daughter Emma, eased away and wiped the stream of tears soaking her face. Emma was right. The elite equestrian program she’d participated in, at the private school she attended in northern Connecticut, would end in a month and they’d spend the last two weeks of summer vacation together. But, lord, she’d miss her. A few more weeks with her gone seemed an eternity, especially since she’d been away, at boarding school, for the last year. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”
Emma—a carbon copy of Rachel, except for her long, chestnut brown, curly hair and face full of freckles, the only two things she inherited from her father—folded her arms across her chest, rolled her eyes, then flashed a cheeky grin. The familiar gesture triggered a fresh set of tears, and Rachel gave her a watery smile.
“I’m not a baby, Mom. I’m almost an adult.”
Rachel snorted. At eleven and a half years old, Emma was a far cry from adulthood. No longer a baby, and not a teenager, either, Emma hovered somewhere in between. Although clearly she considered herself much older. Maybe Rachel didn’t give her enough credit. Emma was thriving at this new school. She was the one with the problem. She wasn’t ready for her little girl to attend boarding school. It had been just the two of them for so long now, and the house seemed cavernous with just her rattling around inside. How was she going to get through the next few weeks without seeing her?
She peered around the half-empty parking lot, hidden from the road by several rows of huge oak trees in full leafy bloom. The horse show the school hosted as part of the program ended last evening and most parents had said good-bye to their daughters then, but Rachel stuck around until morning, wanting to spend as much time as possible with Emma before heading home again. Why had she agreed to Emma boarding at a school almost two hours away from her home in Greenwich, to begin with?
Connie Sullivan straightened. With hands on hips, she cleared her throat and cast a withering glare in Rachel’s direction.
Right. She hadn’t agreed. She’d been manipulated into giving her consent when Connie and Frank, Emma’s paternal grandparents, sidestepped her and went straight to Emma with the suggestion last summer. Emma, of course, was thrilled at the idea of attending her beloved grandmother’s alma mater.
Rachel could have said no, had wanted to, and not just to spite the Monster-In-Laws for going behind her back, once again, but Emma had been excited at the prospect, and it was the first real spark of enthusiasm she’d shown about anything since losing her father. How could Rachel disappoint her when she’d lost so much already?
“Yes, do stop blubbering.” Connie’s haughty, condescending voice grated on Rachel’s nerves. “And try to control yourself.”
Pretentious, superficial, uptight… No, don’t go there. Emma adored them. Although Rachel couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why. In all the years she and Ryan were married, never once had Connie or Frank shown any true affection toward their only granddaughter. Still, they were the only grandparents Emma had since Rachel and her parents no longer spoke. “Of course.”
Maddie, Emma’s roommate, arched her eyebrows and gave a come-on-let’s-get-outta-here look, and Emma nodded. “We gotta go. Maddie and I have a riding lesson in fifteen minutes.”
“Good-bye, dear.” Connie leaned down and air-kissed Emma on both her cheeks, then Frank followed suit.
“Thanks for coming to my show, oh, and have fun on your vacation. You must be getting excited. Less than two weeks till you leave.”
Connie nodded. “Yes. Your grandfather and I are looking forward to the cruise, but first we have your father’s memorial service at the end of the week.” She shot Rachel an imperious glance. “We’ll pick Emma up here at school and bring her to and from the ceremony.”
The color drained from Emma’s face. Rachel’s heart clenched, the vice-grip hold making it hard to breath. Emma didn’t want to go to the memorial Connie and Frank held on the anniversary of their son’s death. Last year she’d gotten physically sick at the ceremony and was an emotional mess for days after. They’d witnessed the same the year before. Almost three years had passed since the horrific car accident that ended Ryan’s life and still Emma couldn’t bring herself to so much as mention his name. How could Connie and Frank expect her to attend when they knew how upset it made her? “About the memorial…”
Connie rounded on her. “I—expect—Emma—to—be—there. She’s Ryan’s child. What will people think if she’s not?”
Rachel wrapped a protective arm around Emma and squeezed. Who cared what others thought? Not her. What’s best for Emma mattered most. “Emma—”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll—”
No, it wasn’t okay. Emma’s feelings counted, and Rachel would make sure they were taken into consideration. She turned and gave her daughter another hug. “You and Maddie should go now or you’ll be late.” Emma held on tight for another moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to them,” she whispered in Emma’s ear.
Emma nodded. “I love you.”
Rachel squeezed her tighter. “I love you, too, baby girl.”
Emma smiled and then scu
rried off.
Rachel turned to face the firing squad. “Please try and understand. It hurts Emma to be reminded—”
Connie peered down her long patrician nose and glared. “We do so much for you. For her. You could be a little more grateful and show your support once in a while.”
Rachel stiffened. Of all the… She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I am grateful.” She gestured around at the immaculate lawns and well-maintained buildings rich with history. “You’ve given Emma a wonderful opportunity I could have never afforded on my own. She loves attending this school.”
“Yes, well, Ryan would have wanted this for his precious little girl.”
Rachel wanted to take a page from Emma’s book and roll her eyes at the statement, but didn’t. Who was she kidding? Connie was the one who’d insisted Emma attend this school. Ryan would have cared less. “Well… I’ve got to get going. I have a meeting in the city at ten. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
“Don’t bother coming. It’s Emma we want at the memorial, not you.”
Rachel almost doubled over from the verbal blow.
Connie grabbed her husband’s hand. “Come on, Frank. Let’s go.” She cast one final look of disdain and then marched off with Frank in tow.
They didn’t want her at Ryan’s memorial service? She shouldn’t be surprised. To them, she’d always be the backwoods hillbilly who trapped their son by getting pregnant to get her hands on the Sullivan fortune.
A far cry from the truth, but if eight years as Ryan’s faithful, loving wife hadn’t changed their opinion, she supposed nothing would.
It didn’t matter what they thought of her. She didn’t care. Emma was her main concern. In a few months, she’d make partner at McKenna and Hirsh, the accounting firm where she worked. She’d have the money to take care of Emma on her own and not be beholden to them for anything.
Of course, none of it would happen if she screwed up the assignment at Montgomery International Bank. She glanced at her watch. Her meeting at the bank was in less than two hours. Hell, all of this lamenting had cost her precious time, and if she didn’t leave right now, she’d be late.
Chapter Two
“You’re back early.”
Ethan Montgomery peered up from his leather seat behind the wide, hand-carved mahogany desk at the far end of his spacious office at Montgomery International Bank. The sun dipped low in the evening sky, glinting off the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Jean-Claude Moreau, vice president of operations at the Paris branch, stood in the open doorway. “Yes. I wrapped up the meeting in London earlier than expected.”
Jean-Claude dragged a hand through his dark, curly hair and cast a wary glance in Ethan’s direction. “How did it go?”
“I alleviated Hewitt’s concerns and convinced him to stay with Montgomery.” At least for now. But if the bank’s problems weren’t solved and quickly, they could lose a lot more than Hewitt’s business.
“Good.” Jean-Claude stepped in, walked with purpose to one of the vacant chairs in front of Ethan’s desk and folded his tall, rangy frame into the seat. “How did your discussions go in Tokyo?”
Ethan unbuttoned the cuffs on his white cotton dress shirt, pushed up the sleeves and leaned back against the cool leather fabric of the chair. Before flying to London last evening for an emergency meeting with one of Montgomery’s biggest clients, he’d spent the prior five days in negotiations with The Bank of Tokyo. A merger between the two institutions would allow Montgomery International to expand into the Japanese financial market, something his father had been working toward for years. “We’re… still in negotiations.”
“Sounds like things aren’t going as well as you’d hoped.”
Ethan grimaced. “The issues with the investors in New York have impacted our discussions.” They were also the reason for the emergency meeting with Martin Hewitt.
What started out as discord among a few of the shareholders over lower than normal proceeds had escalated into a full-blown dispute. Questions regarding the bank’s long-term stability followed when the story made international news three weeks ago. He’d been doing his best to address clients' concerns both here and in London while his father managed the situation in New York.
“I heard they’ve filed with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission.”
“Yes.” The grievance was a bunch of bullshit as far as he was concerned. Montgomery International hadn’t reported lower profits than earned. Business revenue was down this past year. And they hadn’t cheated the shareholders out of one dime in dividend payouts.
“What does that mean for the New York branch?”
He drummed his fingers on the wooden desktop. Good question. The truth was, he wasn’t sure. “The Board of Directors hired a forensic accounting firm to go through the bank’s records. They’ll issue a report to the board and file it with the SEC when the team completes the task.”
Jean-Claude nodded. “Any idea how long the investigation will take?”
“Depends on how long it takes to review the bank’s records.”
“How’s your father holding up? He sounded haggard when we spoke this morning.”
Haggard didn’t cover it. Hayden took the accusation the shareholders made personally. And the controversy, worse now that the Press caught wind of it, had taken a toll on him. So much so, Ethan worried for his health. “He’s handling the situation.”
Jean-Claude nodded and then stood. “I’ll be here for another hour or so if you need anything.”
Ethan shook his head. “I’m fine. Go home. Spend some time with your wife and charming daughters and get ready for tomorrow’s festivities.” He always enjoyed the Moreau’s annual midsummer get-together.
Jean-Claude smiled. “That reminds me, Michelle wants to know if you and Simone will be joining us tomorrow afternoon?”
Michelle had issued the invitation to them a couple of months ago when he and Simone were still a couple. They weren’t any more.
After twelve months together, he’d ended the relationship. Simone had been pressuring him to meet her parents for several weeks. Something he wasn’t prepared to do.
They didn’t have that kind of relationship. He didn’t want that kind of relationship. He’d been down that road before and gotten nothing but trouble for his efforts, which was why he’d made it clear, from the moment they met, he wasn’t interested in anything serious if they got together. She’d agreed.
Somewhere along the line Simone changed her mind. A few months ago, she started showing up at the bank, uninvited, two or three afternoons a week, insisting they ‘do lunch’ together. Then, she’d stay over on the weekends. He hadn’t minded at first. He’d even enjoyed her company, but he put his foot down when weekends turned into several days a week and some of her clothes appeared in the bedroom closet.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew where all of it was leading. Marriage, to be precise, and a family. He couldn’t blame her. At thirty-four, her biological clock was ticking. Not my problem.
His life was already complicated enough. As bank president of both the London and Paris branches of Montgomery International, he was on the road almost forty percent of the time. Add in another twenty percent for the traveling associated with the Bank of Tokyo merger. He didn’t mind the constant travel. He liked his job and the challenges it presented each day.
No, he wasn’t ready for a wife and kids.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
“Just me.”
Jean-Claude nodded. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ethan stood, stretched his tired muscles and wandered through the now silent offices to the kitchenette at the end of the hall. The bank had closed hours ago, but he still had work to do. The emergency trip to London put him behind schedule and there were several pressing issues needing his attention. The new government policies slated to take effect in the new quarter topped his priority list. He needed to review the regulations and modify any current operating procedur
es to ensure compliance.
After brewing a fresh pot of coffee, he walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed the sandwich and chips purchased on the way from the airport earlier. He popped open the chips and munched on them while he waited, then poured a fresh cup. He added cream and sugar, grabbed the sandwich and headed back to his office.
His mobile rang when he got back to his desk. He placed the mug, sandwich and a half-empty bag of chips down on the smooth wood surface and extracted the phone from its holder. His brows furrowed when the incoming number scrolled across the screen. “Hello, Mom.”
“Ethan. Oh, thank goodness you’ve answered.”
He drew in a sharp breath. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s your father. He’s had a heart attack.”
Chapter Three
“Who is the drop-dead gorgeous man who’s been behind closed doors with the bank president this morning?”
Rachel glanced up from her computer screen and frowned. A petite blond with short curly locks, a figure-hugging miniskirt and black stilettos stood in the open doorway to the temporary office she’d been assigned at Montgomery International Bank. Her co-worker and friend, Kelly Peterson. “Huh?”
Kelly ambled in, dropped down into one of the chairs opposite Rachel and leaned her forearms on Rachel’s desk. “Come on, dish. Who’s Tall, Dark and Handsome in Hayden Montgomery’s office?”
“There’s someone in with Hayden? Does it have anything to do with the shareholders dispute?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Rachel shrugged. “I have no idea. I was out of town for the last two days, remember?”
Kelly smiled, leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. “Right. How’s Emma?”
“She’s great.”
“And the Monster-in-laws?”
Rachel snorted. “They were their usual charming selves.”
“Ah, so they—”
“Forget Connie and Frank. I want to know more about who’s in with Hayden.”