“Maeve, it’s Lowry. Call me back as soon as you have a minute, aye? It’s important.”
I don’t mean to, but that will surely send her into a panic. It will be a fraction of the agitation that’s gripping me. I feel as though I’m in a tailspin with my skull shaken about, scrambling my brains. I won’t be the reason Starla loses control over Patrick Enterprises. Not after what she’s told me about how the only recent approval her father gave her is about his goddamn business. She could live with parting with it voluntarily, but I’m not sure she’d ever forgive me if our relationship were the reason she lost control of her father’s legacy.
Chapter 35
Starla
Everyone’s heard of morning sickness before, but for some reason it’s hard to believe what a misery it is until you’re waking up to it and hurling over the side of your bed. Not pleasant. It might all be over soon. Who’s to say. I don’t disagree with Doctor Gendron about keeping close tabs on my state of mind but it’s not something I enjoy ruminating about. At least I have a bowl over here because I still felt sick after taking the meds Doctor Gendron prescribed.
In the meantime, I need to get up and make myself presentable for today’s board meeting. I never like them, but today will be particularly unpleasant because I’m going to tell them about Jerome Garrett.
I don’t think anyone’s going to like that, but Tad especially will be seeing red when I make my announcement. Also, unlike the past several months, I haven’t heard from Tad recently. I’d hoped he’d wised up and threw in the towel, but if nothing else, the man is persistent, so that doesn’t seem like him. Probably more likely that he’s up to some shit, but I don’t have the bandwidth to think about what that might be with everything else going on.
After I finish my first-thing puke, I head into the bathroom and rinse out my mouth before doing anything else. I had best not to have to deal with vomiting the entire time I’m pregnant.
Which is a thought I’ve never had. And not a thought I can afford to dwell on now. Not while getting ready to deal with the wolves and the sharks and all the other vicious carnivores I’m up against today. I want to talk to Lowry, but I won’t be a baby about this. I’m going to be a responsible adult. I’ll text my boyfriend/daddy after my horrible meeting so he can tell me what a strong, smart, pretty girl I am. Because adulting. I should totes be in charge of the fate of a multibillion-dollar international corporation.
The shower heats up quickly, thank goodness, because I need a distraction. Washing my hair works, but when I soap up my body… I may be imagining things, because it really ought to be early to tell, but my midsection feels different to me already. Firmer, with more of a curve. But that’s clearly my mind playing tricks on me. It’s far too early for that. Far, far too early.
* * *
Lowry
It startles me that Denny is in the driver’s seat when Maeve picks me up at O’Hare, same terminal where she dropped me off nine months ago. She didn’t say he’d stopped being her chauffeur when they’d started sleeping together, but it seems…unethical, somehow?
Not that I’ll bring that up, given that I’m the one dating a woman who was a patient of mine when she was a minor and now she calls me daddy.
I only brought a carry-on, not knowing how long I’ll be staying, and Denny gestures for it as he pops the trunk. Does this feel as odd to him as it does to me? But I’m not sure what to do aside from letting the man do his job so I hand over the roller board with a “thanks.”
He opens the door to the passenger side back seat and I slide in next to my ex-wife and the woman he’s currently sleeping with. It’s an odd arrangement to me, but it’s none of my business, if they’re satisfied with it. Hell, even if they’re not. I’ve got myself deep enough in my own shit, I don’t need to be taking a flying leap into anyone else’s.
Maeve greets me with a peck on my cheek and a chafe of my arm.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you, but I’m not quite sure to whom or what I owe the pleasure of your company. You were pretty agitated on the phone and aside from your accent making you almost unintelligible—”
I grunt and she laughs.
“—I still wasn’t sure what’s going on aside from it having something to do with Starla. Did you break up?”
“No. I mean…no. Although she might do more than break up with me when she finds out where I am.”
“Didn’t you tell her?”
Yes, it’s the same “you daft arsehole” look that Maeve’s been giving me nearly since we met. And it’s deserved.
“I did not. I didn’t tell her because I need for this right tosser Tad Harding to think we’ve split up until this thing with her father’s company is sorted. The only way he’s going to believe that is if I make it look as though I’ve left, like he scared me off. And I didn’t tell her about Tad because she’s got a lot on her mind right now and if I told her about this sleekit reprobate sniffing around, it’d be too much.”
Maeve raises one of her sculpted brows, unconvinced that I’m not making a royal hash of this. To be fair, neither am I, but I can’t think of any other way.
“It’s not just that, though. This Tad bloke has threatened Starla with some very ugly things. I’m certain no ethical person would take part, but it’s…” It’s none of Maeve’s business why Starla has such an abject devotion to this thing that’s not good for her and she hates, nor why my involvement with Star might contribute to her being forced out of the decision-making process for Patrick Enterprises. So I shake my head. “I take Starla’s safety and happiness very seriously and if I came out here instead of staying there with her, you’ve got to believe I felt like—I feel like there’s no other way, like I have no choice. Not for her to come through this whole, anyway. Maybe while I’m here, you could help me understand the actual risk. You know I’ve never had much of a head for business.”
“Do I ever.” She pats my hand fondly, knowing how grateful I am that all of my jobs have handled accounts for me and that I’d never start my own practice out of sheer terror of the finances of it. Yes, you can hire people for such things, but it makes me want to gag thinking about it. Course Starla’s good at those things. Perhaps she’d help me?
Though I’m playing a dangerous game, coming out here. If all goes to plan, Maeve can give me some sound advice to help douse my sizzling nerves, it will look as though Starla and I are no longer together, and Tad won’t be able to use me as leverage.
I don’t know that Starla would ever forgive me for being the reason she lost control of Patrick Enterprises. It’s one thing to do it in a deliberate way that still doesn’t feel good, another entirely for it to be snatched out of her control, and I can’t be responsible for that. Once this Garrett deal is settled—hopefully that will happen quickly—I’ll go back to Boston and be the rock my little girl needs me to be as she reconciles what her father wanted with the person she actually is. If however, it does not…
Starla could believe I’ve abandoned her. Again. Which I haven’t, I wouldn’t, I… Curse these fucking choices I have to make when there isn’t a good option. Only bad ones, only things that are going to hurt my darling girl. She perhaps won’t see it this way, especially not right now, but she will. She has to.
I have some doubts about how she feels about me—namely whether she would want a future with me—but I know with absolute certainty how much her father’s business means to her, how much he meant to her. I cannot be to blame for her taking on the heavy mantle of her father’s disappointment yet again, I can’t see her forgiving me for that should it come to pass. While I don’t think she should let a dead man guide her decisions, it sure as hell isn’t up to me, either. She’ll make her choices and I will help her deal with the fallout if she’ll let me.
* * *
Starla
I’d like to claim I don’t know what I ever saw in Tad, but that would be a lie. He’s handsome, older, and so sure of himself—those are the things I liked. Shouldn’t come as a surp
rise to anyone. Also, he didn’t ask too much of me, and my father seemed to approve. God knows I like approval. Thirst for it, crave it.
Indeed, I may have texted Lowry on the way here to get a shot of that before my meeting started, but he didn’t respond. Maybe he has an early patient? He’s usually super on the ball about getting back to me unless he’s with a patient. He hadn’t mentioned it to me, but it’s not as though he accounts for every second of every day to me. Nor do I expect him to. I just… Maybe hormones are making me paranoid. Perfect.
Enough fretting about Lowry. I ought to be fretting about the meeting that’s about to start. And Tad. Ugh, Tad. Yeah, I really did think I was…maybe not in love with him exactly, nothing close to the way I feel about Lowry, but I definitely had romantic and sexual feelings toward him.
Now I look at his smug face across the large boardroom table and want to mash it into the platter of muffins and bagels no one will touch, because he’s a condescending Machiavellian dickwad. At least I don’t have to deal with him often, and if things go as I hope, soon I’ll have to deal with him only rarely. Only on occasions when Jerome needs me to make an appearance to shore up our partnership and present concrete evidence of our united front.
The meeting is called to order, and I’m so anxious I want to vomit. Or is that the morning sickness? Whatever it is, I really wish my body would have a fucking useful reaction instead of feeling like I’m going to hurl. I mean, shouldn’t this be all fight or flight? Not fight or having an involuntary personal protein spill? How is that helpful? Dammit.
I clear my throat, hoping nothing comes with it, but I’m safe.
Everyone at the table is looking at me expectantly, and I summon a vision of Lowry, telling me I’m making a good choice. For me, for my father’s legacy, for all of the people who rely on Patrick Enterprises for their livelihood. I am smart, I am capable, and it’s okay for me to let this go, at least a bit so I’m not crushed under the weight of the responsibilities I’d have to assume if I decided to run this company for the long term. I don’t want to, I wouldn’t be good at it. In selling a portion of my shares to Jerome Garrett, I’m making a decision that ensures the long-term prosperity of Patrick Enterprises but also removes a level of responsibility that would be—hell, is—detrimental to my mental health.
“I know everyone has been waiting to see what I’ll do as the newly minted holder of the controlling interest in Patrick Enterprises. After much thought and much discussion with various parties, I’ve come to a decision.”
Breathe, Starla. Just breathe. Because passing out face-first into a tray full of pastries does not inspire confidence.
“Provided that all of the reports return as expected from my lawyers and advisors, I will be selling slightly less than half of my shares to Jerome Garrett of Garrett Industries.”
There’s a collective murmur in the room and the way everyone turns to one another in shock and confusion starts my anxiety spiraling, which conveniently tangles with my depression to make me doubt every decision I’ve ever made. That’s great. But I dredge up my rational brain to try to beat back all of my fears and all the voices yelling terrible things at me. I just have to hold them off for long enough to get through this meeting and then I can have another meltdown.
Would Lowry be willing to skip his workout today and let me cry on his shoulder instead? Maybe meet me at his place so he could do something to make me forget all of this for an hour or so? Center me in my body instead of being all tied up and twisted in my brain? When he’s spanking me, everything is so clear.
“Given the two percent of the stock he already holds, this sale will result in myself holding twenty-six percent of Patrick Enterprises, which still makes me the largest shareholder. Mr. Garrett will then hold twenty-five percent of Patrick Enterprises. After negotiations with Mr. Garrett, we’ve identified common goals for Patrick Enterprises and plan to vote as a bloc when matters come to the board. Which means that between Mr. Garrett and myself, we will maintain control of Patrick Enterprises. Mr. Garrett will be more involved in regular decision-making, however I will be apprised of any major changes and I will meet with him regularly to ensure that he is steering the Patrick Enterprises ship on a course that my father would have approved of.”
The murmur has grown to a dull roar and my face is burning, but I press on because this is the informed, educated decision I have made and I won’t be made to feel as though I’m small Starla Patrick who used to play under the boardroom table who should only be in charge of my paper and crayons, perhaps a doll.
“This sale doesn’t require the board’s approval, I’m fully within my rights to make this decision unilaterally. I’m informing you as a courtesy, and as I said before, this sale will only happen provided I can settle an agreement to my satisfaction with Mr. Garrett. My lawyers are currently reviewing the contract and should be done by this evening. Should Mr. Garrett renege on the tenets we have discussed, the sale will not go through. I’m not taking any questions at the moment, but please send any concerns you have to my attorneys. I’ll circulate the agreement to the board as soon as the details have been finalized.”
I feel as though I’m going to die, but other than that, everything’s fine. Yep, totally fine. Given that no one’s thrown anything or set the place on fire, I’d say that went pretty well. Now if only I could guarantee that I’m not going to start hyperventilating at any second.
Stealing a glance at my phone to see if there’s a little blue blinking light to tell me there’s a text—hopefully from Lowry—I miss Tad rising to his feet at the other end of the table that’s still a cluster of serious people in expensive suits making incredulous noises. But he gets my attention with a clap of his hands, same as he gets everyone else’s.
“I’d like to bring a few matters to the board’s attention.”
Preternatural dread creeps down my spine. I don’t have a good feeling about this. And from the way Tad is looking at me, I shouldn’t.
“Ms. Patrick’s announcement is as surprising to me as it is to the rest of you. Especially given how Jameson Patrick felt about Jerome Garrett. To say they were on unfriendly terms is an understatement.”
He levels me with a look meant to be stern, meant to shame me and reach that little part of me that gets hit hardest by disapproval. Except that Tad’s approval doesn’t mean jack shit to me anymore. I don’t believe he ever wanted what was best for me, nor do I believe that handing him the reins to Patrick Enterprises would be the right decision. He may have played the lapdog and yes-man to my father, but I don’t think he’d stay faithful to my father’s vision on his own.
“As the person who holds a controlling interest in Patrick Enterprises, any decision Ms. Patrick makes will have a profound impact on the prospects of this company and its shareholders. We have a fiduciary duty to ensure that anyone making these types of decisions is fit.”
Fit? Oh my fucking god, this little rat bastard. Death is too good for this fucker. I will show him precisely how fit I am by throwing a goddamn chair.
“I happen to know that Starla Patrick has some interesting fetishes in the bedroom.”
I’d thought blinding rage was an expression. That and seeing red. I knew what they meant of course, but not how they felt. Spending so much of my life being emotionally numb on some level hadn’t prepared me for when I got hit with all of these more vivid, visceral feelings. I’ve learned over time how to manage most of them even if it takes me a while to process them, but now I’m taking fury straight in the face.
How dare he? And how could I have been so wrong about him? I knew he was a dickhead, but I didn’t think he’d go this far. Weren’t these the things he’d told me Jerome Garrett would pull because he was a slimeball? And all this time, it was Tad who was planning to throw my dirty laundry all over my father’s boardroom. Lower than Salacious B. Crumb, this motherfucker.
Lillian Johnson appears to feel the same way, her blond eyebrow raised and the corners of her mouth turned d
own. “I’m assuming you know this from your time as Ms. Patrick’s significant other, which would mean you also enjoy these same things as part of your sex life. So I’m not sure what you think you’re going to accomplish with this stunt. It reeks of sexism, and I won’t tolerate it, never mind consider it when making business decisions.”
Thank heaven for Lillian. She scared me to death as a kid because she looked at me like I was some kind of vermin, but as I’ve grown up, I’ve come to understand she just doesn’t enjoy children. Which doesn’t make her a bad person, and I appreciate her efforts to encourage my father to make Patrick Enterprises a better and more equitable place for women. So yeah, thank goodness for her unabashed feminism because while I’m doing my best to maintain a bored, disinterested expression, my fingers are clutching my pen hard and it will be a minor miracle if it doesn’t snap in half.
Tad puts on that faux-apologetic look of his, and sucks his teeth. What a fucker.
“You can understand I was in a bit of an awkward position. I was dating the boss’s daughter for god’s sake, so if she wanted to call me daddy and have me spank her… I’m not proud of it, and it wouldn’t be something I would engage in otherwise, but you’ve got to keep Starla happy. Everyone knows that.”
Lillian looks almost bored as she glowers at him. “Why are you bringing this up now? It’s obviously been true for quite some time and you’ve never mentioned it before.”
“I would’ve shrugged it off, honestly. Not my thing, but I doubt anyone’s getting hurt so what does it matter? Except that when you put that into the context of Starla dating a gentleman named Lowry Campbell, it gets more concerning.”
Lillian sighs heavily and taps her very expensive pen on the tabletop. “Can we get to the issue at hand? I don’t need to spend any more of my precious time troubling myself with who Ms. Patrick dates or what she does on her own time. It’s never been an issue before, and the fact that it’s an issue now is redolent of misogyny. You’re testing my patience. So make your point or shut the hell up, Tad.”
For Her Own Good Page 38