Coup: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 2)

by Brooklyn Knight

  I scratched my chin. “The truth is, I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted in a whisper, “but I will be by the time this goddamn meeting is over.”

  THE HAMILTON ASSOCIATES emblem stood tall and shone bright against the midnight sky, but as Ignacio pulled up in front of the building, something deep inside me sank. Over the past twenty-four hours, all I’d done was think; so much so, that my head was congested with a muddle of thoughts and emotions. Fury percolated inside of me when I thought about Michael Sawyer and the way he’d uprooted my stability. He’d had it out for me since college, but I never imagined he’d go to these lengths. More than that, I never thought he’d win. Sawyer had invaded my professional and personal life. He’d systematically dismantled everything that I loved and had worked my ass off to establish, but what bothered me most was that he’d effectively destroyed me. He’d taken my woman and he’d taken my livelihood.

  My jaw clenched as the troubling thoughts radiated through my body.

  What Michael had done wasn’t the worse of it, I thought to myself. There was one thing that debilitated me beyond reason; the fact that the sole person I needed by my side was nowhere to be found.

  Laila had run before, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. When the going got tough, Laila had proven she’d be the one to get going and leave me confused and angry. In the grand scheme of things, losing Hamilton Associates meant nothing to me. It would take minimal effort for me to put up another shingle and build another multimillion-dollar empire. Michael Sawyer would never be able to take my expertise and my talent.

  But Laila...

  Papa had told me she’d come back to me, but as the minutes transformed into hours and days, my hope of any such thing happening diminished. I was a lone soldier, and that would have to be okay. I’d been on my own before, and I would quickly adjust to being on my own again.

  Ignacio opened the rear door and I placed a firm foot on the ground. I ran my hands over my lapel and entered my firm, for what might be the final time.

  The boardroom was full when I arrived. All of the men were seated in position, and upon seeing me, Max jumped out of his seat.

  “Thank god you’re here,” he whispered, ushering me to my seat.

  “Of course I’m here,” I muttered, trying to maintain my aggravation. I peered around the room, not surprised to find each of the men glaring back at me. I trusted no one around the table. I barely trusted Max, but I needed an ally in this war, and he was the only answer.

  “Where’s Sawyer?” I snapped.

  “He’s not here yet,” Max responded, dry-washing his hands, “but apparently, he’s on his way. And he’s bringing his team with him.”

  I frowned. “Who’s on his team?”

  “I’m not sure,” he replied pulling his tight shoulders up to his ears. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  I took my seat at the head of the table as Stella made her rounds, handing out the meeting agenda, which I’d approved via email the week before; however, in addition to the standard documents, she handed out a draft contract. I scanned it and grimaced when I saw Michael Sawyer’s name listed as the intended chief shareholder.

  I looked at my watch and then the clock on the wall.

  “Good evening gentleman,” I greeted everyone. I took my time eyeing each of the members of my board. The atmosphere was thick with aggression and contempt. I rested my elbows on the table, and steepled my hands in front of my face. “We’re scheduled to start in three minutes, yet the guest of honor is not present.”

  I turned my gaze to Brenneman, who grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, don’t worry. He’ll be here,” he assured me raising a confident brow. “There’s nothing on earth that would keep him away from this meeting. Practice patience, Dylan.”

  “Lucky for you, I’ve been practicing patience for ten years,” I shot back. “My patience should be the least of your worries.”

  Brenneman pursed his lips and Max grabbed my arm. “Perhaps we should approve last quarter’s minutes,” he suggested, trying to dispel the hostility.

  “Fine,” I agreed. My tone was stiff and so were my hands as I pulled the relevant documents close to me. I reviewed the document before the members, who all approved without challenge. Then I looked at my watch.

  The time had expired.

  I stared at Brenneman, but before I could say anything, the double doors opened wide and Michael Sawyer marched into the boardroom. Our eyes locked like competing bulls in a Spanish stadium, and the energy bubbling in the pit of my stomach was enough to propel me out of my seat and into his smug face; but when I saw the members of his entourage, and my heart stopped beating.

  Thirty-Three

  Laila

  ‘Lead Shareholder’

  I couldn’t look at him.

  The pain painted across his face was enough to crush me to bits. He looked hopeless and defeated and I knew, deep in my heart, that it was all because of me. The intensity behind his eyes was enough to pierce holes through my shaking body.

  Against my better judgment, I stole a glance at him. I hadn’t seen him in a month and my body reacted spontaneously. His hands, both hard and tender; the perfection of his mouth and the bronze hairs bursting on his chin made me hot with want. His thick body, even though it was rigid in the chair, produced lascivious visions in my mind, of how he’d crawl over me like a ravenous lion and take hold of my sexuality.

  At the sight of him, every nerve in my body fired off. His stormy, hazel eyes gripped me, and I was at his mercy for what felt like an eternity.

  Betrayal and anger made the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he glared at me, most likely unable to believe what he was seeing. His mouth was tight, but I could tell he wanted to open it. There were questions he wanted to ask me. There were things he wanted to say. He wanted to know why the hell I was walking next to his sworn rival like a traitorous bitch. He wanted to know where I’d been and why I had taken so long to respond to his text messages. He wanted to know if I still loved him...

  I swallowed and focused on keeping my shoulders erect as I matched Michael’s determined pace. He strutted into the boardroom like a show horse, flanked by Sasha, me, and two of his business partners as if he’d already signed the dotted line; as if he already owned Hamilton Associates. A cocky grin was slapped over his mouth, and he stroked the hairs on his chin like he was one of the three wise men. The sleek material of his fine Italian suit swished independently around his polished shoes, and his cufflinks glistened against the artificial lights. An intimidating essence swirled around him like a funky mist.

  Michael placed his hand on the small of my back and Dylan lifted from his seat, but Max’s firm hand in his shoulder forced him to settle. I hurried to a vacant seat, grateful that it was miles away from where Dylan sat at the head of the table.

  “I told you he’d be here,” Brenneman noted with a sly smirk. “And look. He brought company.”

  “So I see,” Dylan muttered, but it might as well have been a clap of thunder booming in my ears. “How about you introduce yourselves and the capacities in which you operate?”

  The scowl, set deep in his face, made him almost unrecognizable.

  Michael’s partners and Sasha informed Dylan of their position and their purpose, but when it was my turn, Michael’s voice rose.

  “Of course, you know this beautiful young lady very well,” he said. “She used to work for you.”

  Dylan spoke. “And if I remember her correctly, because of course I haven’t seen or heard from her in quite some time...” he let the comment settle, “she is well able to speak for herself.” The men stared at each other, one grinning, the other with a countenance so flat, I could have set a teacup on it.

  I cleared my throat. “Mr. Hamilton, I’m here in the capacity of an employee of Sawyer, Inc.” My voice was little more than a squeak.

  He pressed his back against the chair. “I didn’t realize commonplace employees were eligible to attend business meetings of this nat
ure.”

  “Allow me to elucidate,” Michael requested sitting forward. “Miss Renaud is more than a commonplace employee, as I’m sure you can relate.”

  Dylan bubbled.

  My jaw locked.

  Michael continued. “I’ve given Miss Renaud access to privileges which increase her value at my firm, which makes her presence here today especially relevant.”

  “I see.” Dylan’s eyes moved in my direction and the sensation of arrows piercing my flesh jolted me. I wrung my hands in my lap.

  Sasha leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Stay focused,” she advised, barely moving her lips. “This is what you decided to do, so keep your head. Don’t get sucked into this game of who-has-the-biggest-balls.”

  I nodded and tried to straighten my shoulders and resolve at the same time.

  Michael leaned over. His lips grazed my ears as he spoke, and I bristled. “Are you ready to do this?”

  I set my jaw. “More than ready,” I responded.

  My eyes rose, and my breath caught in my lungs when Dylan’s eyes caught me again. Heat from his rage scorched me, even at a distance.

  He ripped his eyes off me and they fell to the table, searching.

  My heart pulsed in my chest.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Max said. “Now that we’re all here we can get started.”

  Dylan’s assistant handed us some documents and I looked at them blindly, trying to distract myself from the uncomfortable scene, but it was the devil’s own job. I was feeding off his energy. His anguish was consuming me whole.

  Max inhaled. “We’re here because it is our standard, end of quarter board meeting; however, as we’re all aware, there’s an additional order of business which needs to be attended to.”

  No one said anything.

  “The last meeting’s minutes have been approved. Let’s move to the first item on the current agenda.”

  Brenneman raised a finger. “I’ll begin,” he informed. He looked around the room, taking his time to assess everyone around the table. When he looked at me, he smiled. “We’re pleased to have with us Mr. Michael Sawyer, one of Miami’s finest businessmen, who comes to us with a wealth of experience and expertise. As we are all aware, Mr. Sawyer is the owner of Sawyer, Inc., a rival reinvestment firm which has seen exponential growth over the last five years.”

  Dylan gripped his chin and shifted in his seat.

  Brenneman continued. “At our last gathering, we expressed a few concerns to our current CEO, Mr. Hamilton, as it relates to the management of Hamilton Associates. We questioned his business acumen. We questioned his focus and his drive, and as a result of these concerns, we brought a motion to the table to seek alternative leadership.” Brenneman gestured to Michael. “Mr. Sawyer presented himself and currently is in a position to acquire an astounding fifty per cent of Hamilton Associates’ outstanding shares. At this time, I’d like to invite him to discuss his personal vision and plans for Hamilton Associates, should a vote indicate that he will be our new lead shareholder.”

  A round of applause erupted in the boardroom as Michael ran his hand over his expensive tie and rose to his feet.

  Dylan sat straight in his chair and pressed his back against the seat. The heat from his anger licked across the table and I wondered if I was the only one being consumed by his fire.

  “Firstly, I would like to thank those around the table who have made this venture possible. To Elton Brockton and Joseph Brenneman, who received my invitation graciously; to the men who worked with me to acquire the shares necessary for this clean sweep; my dedicated assistant, Sasha Goddard, my partners, Phillip and Arnold, and last but not least, the wonderful woman who is sitting next to me, Laila Renaud.”

  Dylan’s mouth bunched as Michael ran a hand across my shoulder.

  “It’s because of the unwavering support I’ve received from these individuals, which has given me the boost I needed for this sweeping acquisition,” he said. “It’s been no secret that many of you have been displeased with the current administration’s performance. Part of the reason you deem me a suitable replacement is because I make the deals Dylan Hamilton was afraid to make. The companies he is afraid to do business with, they come running to me. I’m the one who has secured the firms that he has turned down, and in doing so, I’ve amassed enough capital to buy him out and take over this firm.”

  Dylan scrubbed his brow and repositioned himself in the chair.

  “My plans are to take Hamilton Associates further and higher than it has ever gone,” Michael said. He pinned his eyes on Dylan. “My goal is to meet the needs that Dylan Hamilton was unable to.”

  A terse silence descended in the room.

  Sasha turned her eyes on me.

  “If I may...” My voice rose to the fore with a tenor of authority which surprised even me.

  I blinked and ran my fingers over the bridge of my nose. I rubbed my elbow.

  Dylan stared at me and his mouth slackened.

  “As Mr. Sawyer mentioned, he and I have worked together for almost three months. During that time, he has provided me with opportunities to flourish by allowing me to manage high-performing portfolios, such as Af-Tech and a few other companies, which Hamilton Associates saw fit to pass on.” I sucked in a sharp breath before continuing. “And, Michael was right. Those companies had a lot of potential, and my increasing experience allowed me to manage those portfolios in such a way that those businesses have thrived, even in the short time I’ve been working with them. I’ve built trusting relationships with these clients, so much so, that they believe in my guidance and my expertise.”

  Michael’s chest puffed out.

  Sasha lifted her chin forward.

  I paused and scanned the room. It was deathly silent. The sound of my heart beating resounded in my ears, alongside the sound of Dylan’s.

  I steadied my jaw and turned to look at Michael, who was peering at me, admiration and misappropriated affection falling off his chiseled countenance.

  “Despite the wonderful and timely opportunities Michael has ushered my way, I would like to announce my resignation from my post at Sawyer, Inc.”

  Gasps lifted across the room.

  Dylan sat motionless in his chair, yet the heavy rise and fall of his chest was evident.

  Michael’s eyes thinned. “What did you say?”

  I stared at him and repeated my statement in another way. “I quit,” I said.

  “You can’t quit,” he said. “You’re under contract.”

  “Not quite,” I educated him. “My probationary period would have ended next week.”

  “And her contract clearly states that her terms of employment can be rescinded by either the employee or the employer, should either party choose to do so,” Sasha added. She cocked her head to the side and glared at Michael. “I know. I’m the one who gave it to her.”

  Michael’s lip curled as he glared at Sasha and me with a look of disdain. “You can quit if you like,” he said through an angry chortle. “That won’t stop me from taking your boyfriend down.”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” I said easily. “Not only do I quit, I’m taking Af-Tech and Janus with me.”

  Michael’s hands clenched, and his eyes narrowed. “That still doesn’t impact what I’m about to do to your weak CEO boyfriend,” Michael alleged. “You’re missing the point, sweetheart. A few of the wonderful men around this table have agreed to sell part of their shares to me, and all I need is fifty per cent of the public shares to own more than him. Sasha has already submitted the paperwork.”

  “About that...” Sasha lifted a firm finger into the air.

  Michael’s eyes turned to saucers.

  “I didn’t submit any paperwork,” she informed him. She raised an eyebrow. “I became so busy chaperoning, it somehow slipped my mind.”

  Michael grimaced. “You stupid bitch,” he growled. “You didn’t forget. You did it on purpose!” He glared at me. “The two of you worked together to try
and sabotage me. And for what? For him?” He flapped his hand in Dylan’s direction and scoffed. “What do you think he’s going to do for you, Sasha? Especially now that you’re unemployed?”

  “I’m not concerned about that, Michael,” she retorted. “My resignation letter has already been drafted and is sitting in my briefcase.” She pointed at her briefcase, sitting on the floor next to her. “You can’t fire me, because I also quit.”

  Michael grunted. Indignation flashed across his face, making his eyes dark and stormy. “I’m disappointed in you,” he whispered. “I already know why Miss Renaud would turn against me. She’s just as stupid as he is. But you...”

  “Be careful there now, Mr. Sawyer,” someone warned.

  Michael’s head whipped around, his eyes ablaze.

  One of Dylan’s board members pulled himself to his feet. He must have been one of the oldest men around the table, in his mid-sixties, perhaps. His name was Jack McHardy, and he was one of the men Sasha had arranged for me to meet.

  McHardy took his time, eyeing the men around the table.

  “I’ve been quiet for weeks,” he said. His voice was low, and I almost had to strain my ears to hear what he was saying. “I’ve sat back and listened to the rhetoric and mumbo-jumbo about this young man, who I happen to believe is doing a phenomenal job running this company, the way he has done for the past ten years.”

  I glanced at Dylan.

  His eyes were fixed on me, his expression blank and stark, despite McHardy’s critical contribution.

  McHardy continued. His eyes narrowed. “Now, Brenneman; Brockton, you know full well that not all of us were in agreement with this coup.”

  Brenneman threw his back against his chair like a child. “And you know full well that it doesn’t matter.” He pressed his hand against his chest. “Remember, my vote is worth more than yours.”

  McHardy chuckled. It rumbled deep in his chest. “That might have been true, but Miss Renaud approached us late last week seeking counsel.”

  “Counsel?”