For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1)

by Caitlyn Coakley

  “Badass Ethan Webb is a fraud. A fake. Like, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain charlatan. You’re nothing but a wimp. You’re...”

  “Shut your piehole, son. We have more important things to worry about right now.” Uncle Brian waited for Aunt Deb to make her way into the room with Pete. He put his arm around his wife. “Miss Irene has died.”

  CHAPTER 43

  STEPHANIE JUMPED AT the sharp knocking over her left shoulder. For the love of God, she’d barely had time to put her car into park after pulling into her reserved space. Who in the hell needed her so urgently that they couldn’t wait until she got out of the car?

  “Unlock the door so I can get Pete.”

  She bit back a groan. Aunt Deb. Of course. Good Lord, how long had she been waiting in the parking garage for Pete’s grand arrival? Stephanie knew she should be annoyed that Aunt Deb was stalking the baby, but truthfully? Today was going to be a difficult day and having her around to keep an eye on Pete would make things so much easier.

  The news of Irene’s death had hit the gossip mill and how it would affect the mood inside was anyone’s guess. She had been by far the most senior of senior employees and had considered herself the unofficial ruler of the roost. Okay, maybe not so unofficial. As the boss’ gatekeeper for more than fifty years, she had always been a force to be reckoned with.

  Stephanie unlocked the car door for Aunt Deb then turned her attention to her phone, which hadn’t stopped pinging all morning. Please, do not be another resume. She opened her email account. And the winner is... another resume. It would have to wait with the fifteen other job applications that clogged her already overflowing inbox. Irene was barely cold, and the vultures were already circling.

  She got out of the car and hugged her aunt. “Ethan is right behind me. He’s cleared his calendar to help me go through Irene’s files to see if we can find any clues about a family or an attorney to contact.”

  Aunt Deb tickled Pete’s chubby chin before freeing his car seat from its housing. “Brian and I talked about that last night. In all the years we’ve known her, she’s never mentioned any family. She never brought a plus one to any company function. It’s almost as if she didn’t exist outside of her office.”

  Yeah, that jibed with what Stephanie knew. It was kind of sad to live seventy-some years and leave nothing behind except ugly memories. Memories that would quickly fade into the occasional, “Remember the witch who used to make our lives so miserable? What was her name? Eileen?” Until, eventually, even that dissolved into nothing.

  Who was Irene Johnson? Was she responsible for altering Stephanie’s prenup with Smitty? And, if so, why? Hopefully, they’d know something by the end of the day.

  Stephanie pulled the stroller out of her trunk, loaded Pete’s diaper bag and her purse into the caddy, then helped Aunt Deb attach the car seat. By the time she’d grabbed her briefcase from the trunk, Aunt Deb was halfway to the elevator. Was this what she had to look forward to when she had her own baby? She made a mental note to light a fire under her brothers to push them into looking for women to make babies with—wedding rings optional. Or she could sabotage their condom stashes. Anything to share the wealth of Aunt Deb’s seemingly limitless affection.

  Stephanie shuddered to think what would happen once Aunt Sandy retired and no longer had to make daily appearances at the courthouse.

  Maybe she could move to Alaska.

  THE ELEVATOR DINGED. Stephanie braced herself for whatever waited for her on the other side. As the door slid open, she threw her arm against it to give Aunt Deb plenty of time to get the stroller out before she followed her into the executive wing’s reception area and heard music.

  Music? Yeah, music. Other than in her own earbuds, when was the last time she’d heard music in the office? Try never. Irene wouldn’t tolerate it. Grandpa Jamison hadn’t allowed it: case closed. But the soft tones of classical piano drifted through the hall, putting a lively spring in everyone’s step, not to mention more relaxed facial expressions and an occasional smile.

  And who had dimmed the lights? Usually, it was bright enough in here to do surgery, but this morning’s soft glow added to the soothing vibe so different from the previously uptight atmosphere. The lights had also been Irene’s doing.

  Who had decided to make these changes? It was almost as if the inmates were running the asylum. Not that their ideas were bad, but she couldn’t let others dictate her company’s direction. Many people had considered Irene the de facto boss, but Stephanie was the one who signed the paychecks—okay, authorized the direct deposits, same difference—and it was time to step up to the plate and act like the boss.

  With a quick twist of her wrist, the lights went from mellow to hello! Well, that certainly got everyone’s attention. “Good morning, everyone. Rachel, please turn off the music.”

  The stunned receptionist glanced around for something or someone, what or who, Stephanie had no clue. “Mr. Bengtsen made the changes about ten minutes ago.”

  Ah, Walter. Chairman of the Board. Was this some kind of coup? Stephanie mentally ran through some figures. Unless something had changed, the board didn’t have the votes to unseat her. But something had changed. Irene. Had this been the purpose of yesterday’s corner conversation at the club?

  Walter stormed out of his office. “What happened to the music?” He shielded his eyes. “And why do I suddenly need sunglasses again? Rachel?”

  The poor girl’s head bounced between Stephanie and Walter like a cat at a turbo tennis match, too terrified to speak.

  Stephanie placed her hands on her hips. “That would be my doing. Before you go reversing a half-century of the status quo, we need to discuss it as a team. There is no power vacuum here. I’m still in charge.”

  Walter crossed his arms over his chest. “Who’s in charge remains to be seen. I’ve called an emergency board meeting for three p.m.”

  “What’s on the agenda for this emergency meeting?”

  Stephanie hadn’t heard the elevator ding, but she plainly heard the annoyance in Ethan’s question.

  “Ah, the man who tortured and killed Irene. I wouldn’t have expected you to show your face around here. No TV cameras.”

  Ethan set his briefcase on the floor next to Stephanie’s briefcase and crossed his arms over his chest to mimic Walter’s stance. “Nice deflection, Wally, now answer my question.”

  Walter growled. “I don’t answer to you, and soon, I won’t answer to her either. Three p.m. in the boardroom.” He pivoted on one foot, retreated into his office, and slammed the door behind him.

  The lights she’d turned to full wattage moments ago attacked her eyes as the room swam in and out of focus. The muffled voices that tried to reach her brain caught in a cotton cloud before reaching their destination. The protein shake she’d sipped during her commute took on a life of its own as it attempted a mini-version of whitewater rafting in her stomach. She reached out to grab onto something. Anything, as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She had no clue what she was clinging to until Ethan pulled her to his chest, tucking her head under his chin. One hand traced slowly up and down her spine while the other massaged her head. She closed her eyes to steady herself.

  God damn it, that archer was up to his old tricks again, but this time, he’d added flaming arrows to his repertoire. And, thanks to him, her whole world was about to be reduced to ash.

  “It’s okay, baby, we’ll work this out. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  His deep voice rumbled through her, taming the renegade waves that threatened to swamp her. Wrapped in his strong arms, letting the steady rhythm of his heart center her, she burrowed into him, wishing with everything she had that she could crawl inside of him and let him fight her battles for her.

  But she couldn’t do that. This was something she had to do on her own terms. She was a fool to think she would be able to fight this battle alone—she would take all the help she could get—but she was calling the shots.
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  She pulled back, opened her eyes, and took a deep, cleansing breath. Then another. Like a Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon, she willed herself to rise up, to meet the challenge. She turned to Aunt Deb. “Get Uncle Brian. We have work to do.”

  CHAPTER 44

  ETHAN SET ANOTHER BANKERS Box on Stephanie’s conference table. “Why would Irene keep all of this information at the office?”

  Stephanie took the lid off one box and started pulling out the orange interoffice mail envelopes that had been neatly stacked inside and fanned them out on the table. “If I had to guess, it would be to have them close at hand in case she needed them. Knox was right. She has a file on every board member.”

  He picked up the faded orange interoffice envelope marked Brian Tobin and handed it off. “I don’t want to know what’s in there or why it’s twice as thick as everyone else’s.”

  Uncle Brian grasped the red string that held the envelope closed. His eyes met his wife’s pained gaze. He nodded and fed the envelope into the locked receptacle destined for secure shredding. “What else do we have in there?”

  Ethan let out a short breath. He’d done the right thing. Whatever was in that envelope would have hurt Deb. Obviously, Brian hadn’t been a saint, but she didn’t deserve to suffer for it.

  What the hell had happened to his go for the jugular and damn the consequences philosophy? It—he—lay sleeping in the portable crib in the corner. Ethan’s life wasn’t about him anymore. Or him and Megan. In the past few days, he’d taken his place in the family he’d desperately wanted but never had. That required more sacrifices—different sacrifices. He’d do what he had to do to nurture his new little slice of normal.

  Ethan picked up the next envelope and pulled out its contents. “Winston Sinclair Pettingill the third. An arrest for indecent exposure resulting from public urination. Looks like daddy got to the judge, and the case was dismissed. A drunk and disorderly, a few DUIs, also squashed by daddy, and restraining orders filed by a dozen or so women. On the grand scheme of things, not all that bad.”

  Stephanie glanced through the file. “It is if your father-in-law is the pastor of the largest, most powerful Baptist church in the area. This kind of information could destroy his marriage and cost him millions.”

  She picked up Samuel Grady’s envelope and opened it. “Possession with intent to distribute. They busted him with enough weed to keep Willie Nelson high for a year. His grandfather was a city councilman; now, his father holds the seat. He expects to inherit it eventually, but this would torpedo his chances.”

  Deb reached over Ethan’s shoulder for another envelope. “Carl Granger has a stack of arrests for shoplifting all conveniently withdrawn when mommy paid restitution to the merchants above and beyond the value of the merchandise. Remind me to lock up the good silver the next time we have him and Gretchen over for dinner.”

  Ethan grimaced. “It looks like Matthew Reynolds likes to play ouchie, and I’m guessing the stunning African American woman holding his leash isn’t Mrs. Reynolds.” He handed the picture to Stephanie.

  “I’ve wanted to stick a ball gag in his mouth a few times, but the nipple clamps are a bit much for me. I hope she washed that riding crop after she pulled it out of him.” She set the picture down. “What else do you have?”

  “Glenn Edwinson...” Ethan flipped through page after page in the thick stack. “This is disgusting. There must be at least twenty rapes documented here, along with detailed notes on the threats he made to keep the women silent. The statute of limitations has run out on most of them, but a few could still be prosecuted.”

  Stephanie laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sounds like those women need a hero.”

  Was she calling him a hero? On the surface, his actions did have a tinge of heroism, but deep down, his motives had been anything but pure. He’d always done what he’d done for himself. For the money. For the notoriety. For revenge. A handful of clients had benefited from his skills, but at the end of the day, it had always been about him, to combat the festering sense of inadequacy that ate at his soul.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll take that under advisement.” He reached for another envelope. “Let’s see how bad Walter Bengtsen has been.” He pulled his hand back immediately. “Damn, I hate papercuts. It’s like the envelope bit me to protect its contents.”

  Stephanie took the envelope while he wrapped his finger in a tissue. “Oh, my. Walter seems to have quite the gambling problem, and he owes a lot of money to some unsavory people. Maybe that broken leg he had last Christmas wasn’t from a skiing accident after all.”

  Brian took off his glasses. “We have plenty of information here. The question is, what do we do with it?”

  Was he kidding? The plan was so clear in Ethan’s head, he could practically touch it, and from the wheels he could see turning behind Stephanie’s beautiful green eyes, she was one step ahead of him.

  “We do what Irene was doing. We blackmail them with it. We use this information to get them out of my hair once and for all. Come on, Aunt Deb, it’s time to put your rusty MBA to use to help me find the money to buy these bastards out. We’re going private.”

  Make that two steps. Ethan was so proud of her, he nearly burst. “Figure out how much you need while Brian and I work out the legal details. This is going to be fun.”

  He moved the unopened boxes to the floor. Whatever was inside them could wait.

  CHAPTER 45

  STEPHANIE BROKE HER pencil in half and hurled it across the room. What was the sense of being a redhead if you couldn’t throw an occasional temper tantrum? “I’ve raided every account I can, but it’s nowhere near enough.”

  So much for her grand scheme. With the way her life had been going lately, why had she thought this was going to be easy? As a united front, they almost had the numbers to oust her.

  Is that why they’d courted Irene? She had always protected her shares fiercely, never granting a proxy. Over the years, she’d played kingmaker more than once and had collected a few favors along the way. Had they gotten to her yesterday? Had Irene given the board the votes they needed to unseat her? But why would she side with the board after all these years? It didn’t make sense.

  Stephanie stifled a smile at the comic relief unfolding across the conference table from her. Ethan fiddled with the disposable chopsticks that had come with their lunch in a vain attempt to get food close enough to his mouth to eat it.

  “A person could starve to death with these damned things.” One chopstick fairly flew out of his hand, landing in the middle of his lunch. He glared at it as if he could intimidate it into doing his bidding. His frustrated hrmph was almost loud enough to register on the Richter Scale.

  He pushed the Styrofoam container away. “Brian? Deb? Can you come up with money?” Pulling his food back, he stabbed a piece of his Kung Pao beef with the other chopstick and stuffed it into his mouth.

  Deb handed him a fork then dipped her egg roll into the plum sauce. “I’ve pulled every penny I can from all of our accounts. I could liquidate some assets, but that would take time.”

  And time was the one thing they didn’t have. Hell, if the clock hands moved any faster, they’d set off a breeze. Wasn’t time only supposed to fly when you were having fun? Nobody in this room was having fun. Unless you counted Pete, but he was asleep.

  Stephanie laid her head on her aunt’s shoulder. She’d always been able to count on the Tobins, and now that they’d come up short, she knew it was killing them that they couldn’t help more.

  “What about you, Ethan? Got a few million laying around you don’t know what to do with?” Aunt Deb asked.

  Ethan shot an uneasy glance at Uncle Brian. “I would if I could, but our post-nup forbids co-mingling funds. It also prohibits me from purchasing stock in Kerrigan Financial Services. Brian didn’t trust me. He wanted to make sure Stephanie was protected. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  Whoa! Stephanie had seen that look in Aunt Deb’s eyes a time
or two. It could reduce her brothers to sniveling seven-year-olds without a single word. She’d unleashed it on Shane last month, and it was affecting Uncle Brian the same way it had affected Shane. Once this whole mess was behind her, Aunt Deb was going to have to give her mom lessons.

  A red-faced Uncle Brian bumbled through a quick explanation of the prenup fiasco with Smitty.

  “Don’t blame Brian; I would have written basically the same contract if Stephanie had been my client,” Ethan explained.

  Aunt Deb looked at her husband with pursed lips. “Okay, you’re out of the doghouse. For now.” She turned back to face Ethan and Stephanie. “So, somehow, Smitty is the key to this whole situation. And if Irene was the one who altered the prenup, which seems likely, what was her connection to Smitty? It doesn’t seem logical that she would jeopardize everything she’d worked so hard for without a damned good reason.”

  Bingo. Leave it to Aunt Deb to cut through the tough outer shell to get to the sweet meat inside. Yeah, Stephanie was going to need lessons.

  “Smitty didn’t have money, so he couldn’t have paid her. He could have had dirt on her. There’s a kind of poetic justice when the blackmailer ends up being blackmailed,” Stephanie said.

  “I should have run a full background check on him as soon as Megan introduced us, but that happened to be her wedding day.” Ethan picked up his phone to send a text. “I’ll get my investigators right on it, but with a name like Peter Smith, it won’t be easy. A middle name or Social Security number would help.”

  Stephanie stood and headed toward her desk. “His middle name was Jak: J A K. It was mash-up of his father’s name, Joshua, and his mother’s name, Kerry.” She retrieved a file from her desk drawer and handed it to Ethan. “Here’s our tax return. It should give you the information you need.”

  Ethan completed his text and put his phone back on the table. “Better late than never, I suppose, but I can’t help thinking if I’d listened to my gut earlier, I could have saved everyone a lot of heartache.”