by Alice Gaines
“Never mind,” he said. “Something just popped into my head.”
“You need to be thinking of better things,” she said. “Like my latest idea. Should we trade our shares in Morrow for Westmore stock and take over Westmore?”
“I don’t want to give away my company.”
“It’s our company, darling. You know who gave you the funds to make your first big push.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” For all he knew, those funds had come from Vivian’s divorce settlement—using Maurice Westmore’s money against him. It had been sweet irony at the time. Unfortunately, if Nicole found that out, she’d never forgive him.
“I’m sure you don’t want to give our company away, either,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be an even trade,” she said. “Maybe one share of Morrow for ten shares of Westmore. After all, we’ve done such a good job of convincing everyone Westmore is about to fail.”
Stuck. He needed time to figure this out. Emotions sucked when you were trying to conduct business, and his feelings were definitely involved. Maybe taking over Westmore would be the best thing for everyone involved, including Nicole. In any case, he’d own half of whatever stock in Westmore Vivian managed to acquire, and he could use it to Nicole’s advantage if things came to that. Or he could wrest control from Vivian and handle things himself. God, he was sick of these maneuvers.
“Okay,” he said finally. “But don’t give away too much.”
“That’s better, darling.” Her expression brightened, but that wasn’t entirely reassuring, either. “Oh, and while I’m here, I have a wonderful tip on a good investment. Sinclair Foods is about to announce a new product that will take the country—and the international market—by storm. You want to jump on their stock now. I just did.”
“How do you know this?”
Her smile grew even brighter. “I serve on their board. Maurice got me the position, and I’ve kept it for just this sort of opportunity.”
“That’s insider trading.” Lord, the woman was outrageous. “It’s illegal.”
She waved a hand. “Pfft. Everyone does it.”
“Well, I don’t.” He ought to turn her in and let the police deal with her and her demands for a while. No, he’d do best to stay out of it altogether.
She rose and grabbed her purse from his desk. “Will you finally be coming to the Hamptons this summer?”
“I have business to conduct.”
“I know, but even you take time off,” she said. “Like this latest junket you won’t tell me about.”
“I’ll see,” he said, which meant the opposite. He was definitely not letting his social life mix with Vivian St. James’s. “It’ll depend on my schedule.”
“I’m going to keep pestering you,” she said.
“I know you will.”
She laughed. “I’m off to do evil.”
Then she left, finally, but her perfume hung behind. Now that he was finally alone, he could head home to put a more pleasant plan into action.
Chapter Nine
Nicole sat at the computer in her office at home. The stockholders’ meeting was two days away, and she and Peter had been working day and night on the presentation, ever since she’d returned from the island. It was make-or-break time. She had to sell her concept of Savvy to the stockholders—make them see her baby the way she did. If she didn’t, they’d very likely vote her out of her own company, and she would have failed both her father and herself. If only she knew what Adam was doing. Had he backed off on his attempts to sink Westmore Hotels? They had agreed on a truce, even shaken hands on it. And no new threats had appeared.
One by one, she went through the slides of Savvy for her presentation at the meeting and rehearsed out loud what she was going to say. She’d done it so many times she knew the script by heart. She might need to rely on being able to do it automatically if something went wrong. Peter kept telling her she was all right. The majority of stockholders had great confidence in her, but her natural shyness made things difficult. She had to appear in complete control at all times. And she’d do it—because she had to.
A knock at the front door of her condo pulled her attention away from the slides. It was loud, as if someone had been trying to get her attention for some time. She went to answer and on the other side found a young man in a messenger’s uniform and her building manager, Harold. The messenger held a box from one of Manhattan’s most exclusive boutiques. Nicole hadn’t ordered anything, but her name and address were on the parcel.
Harold stood next to the delivery kid with an apologetic expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Ms. Westmore. I called, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
“I was distracted.”
“I would have taken the package myself, but this young man said he had to give this to you personally,” Harold said.
“Our customer insisted.” The delivery kid pushed a clipboard with a form toward her. “Sign at the X, please.”
“But I wasn’t expecting this.”
“It’s a surprise, then.” He smiled, still holding the clipboard toward her.
She took the package and hefted it. It weighed so little it might have been an empty box. Maybe someone’s idea of a joke.
“I’ll take it to the management office and check into it if you want,” Harold said.
“Thank you, but I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said.
“We normally wouldn’t let you be disturbed,” Harold said.
“I’m not. It’s fine.”
“Please, lady, I have other deliveries to make,” the kid said.
“Sure.” She signed the form, and he tore off her copy and handed it to her.
“I’ll see this young man out.” Harold cleared his throat, and the delivery kid took his cue to leave, Harold right behind him.
She checked the receipt and the box one more time before stepping back inside her apartment and closing the door behind her.
She’d have to take the box into her office to get scissors to open the outer packaging of the mystery delivery. When she did, she discovered another box, more ornate and covered with scarlet silk. A snap on the front allowed her access to that, and the contents made her gasp.
Scarves. Brightly colored and long. The very ones she’d used to tie Adam to the bed in their cottage. She dug some more in case there might be a card, but the only thing other than the scarves was a camisole and tap pants set in her size. It was also scarlet silk and deliciously sinful.
Adam had to have sent this, of course. No one else would have had the scarves, which, of course, meant he’d kept them. She hadn’t thought of them much after Vivian’s phone call, but he’d obviously retrieved them from their bedroom at the cottage and brought them home with him.
It was the gesture of someone who cared, someone who was thinking of their time together—especially those intense moments when they’d been joined completely. And someone who was thinking of a future between them, or he wouldn’t have included the camisole set.
She sat at her desk and let the memories flood her, starting when he’d caressed her on the terrace at the wedding. Within a few minutes, he’d made ten years of separation disappear, bringing out a passion in her that no other man had ever touched. And then, her mind wandered to their days on the island, sharing every moment. Sleeping wrapped around each other. It had been heaven, until she’d let a phone call from Vivian end it all.
She brought one of the scarves to her face, and damned if she couldn’t detect his scent there. Was that even possible after a long trip back to New York and days spent apart?
He wanted her. Maybe he even loved her a little. She’d have to confront him about Vivian, of course. She should have done that immediately—to hell with her fears of what she’d discover. He might have a logical explanation for why he and Vivian were in touch. Or if there was a problem, maybe they could fix it. Together.
She rested back in her chair, closed her eyes, and let relief flood through her. Everyth
ing would turn out for the best. Savvy would be a huge success, and she hadn’t lost Adam for a second time. They were adults now. They could move past any obstacles in their way and at least be friends with the best benefits in the world.
The phone on her desk rang, pulling her back to reality. She picked up the headset. “Westmore.”
“Ms. Westmore, it’s Harold again,” the building manager said. “You have a couple of visitors.”
“Right now?” She ought to be on the phone with Adam. He’d arranged for a special delivery, and he’d have to know she’d already opened his present.
“A Mr. Baxter and Mrs. Gregory,” Harold said.
Peter. What could be so important he couldn’t call? And he’d brought Mrs. Gregory, one of her father’s biggest investors. She couldn’t put them off. But she could finish with them quickly and then call Adam. “Send them up.”
“Will do.”
She hung up and stuffed all the silk back into the boutique’s box, which she stashed in a side drawer of her desk. Then she went to her front door and opened it. In a few seconds, the elevator opened, and Peter and Mrs. Gregory got out. She ushered them inside and closed the door.
“So nice to see you,” she said as she shook both hands.
“We’re sorry to bother you at home,” Peter said. “But we thought it was important.”
“Please, sit down.” Nicole gestured toward the living room.
Once they were all seated, Peter glanced briefly at Mrs. Gregory and then cleared his throat. “We think we have a better idea what’s been going on behind the scenes with the rumors about Westmore hotels.”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, my dear, but I’m afraid there’s bad work afoot,” Mrs. Gregory said. She was a tiny person but lovely despite her advancing age. Normally, her blue eyes sparkled, but not today.
“Peter and I have known that for some time,” Nicole said. “We just don’t know who’s behind it.”
Peter said nothing, even though they’d both suspected Adam’s company from the start. Mrs. Gregory looked at him again, and he nodded, encouraging her to speak.
“You see, I had a visitor this afternoon. I thought it odd. Certainly, I knew all of Maurice’s wives.” Mrs. Gregory covered her mouth with her fingers. “Pardon me, my dear. That sounded crude.”
A lump started to form in Nicole’s stomach. “Not at all. Please go on.”
“Of course, I haven’t seen Vivian…what is her name now?” Mrs. Gregory said.
“St. James?” Nicole supplied.
“Yes, that’s it,” Mrs. Gregory answered. “We’re not exactly friends. Not even acquaintances, really.”
Nicole did her best to breathe. Nothing Vivian did was good, but this might not prove a complete disaster. Maybe it had nothing to do with Adam. But her gut was telling her the opposite.
“She said terrible things about Maurice’s company.” Mrs. Gregory shifted in her chair. “That it was going to fail and we’d all lose our money unless we acted quickly.”
“That’s Vivian,” Nicole said.
“She’s not the most…pleasant person, is she?” Mrs. Gregory said.
“You’ll need to tell her the rest,” Peter said softly.
Mrs. Gregory tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “What Vivian suggested was a trade of stock. Ten shares of my Westmore Hotels for one of Morrow Properties.”
“Morrow,” Nicole repeated as the air around her took on a chill.
“She assured me Morrow is a thriving company with potential for growth and that I’d make more money with fewer shares than if I kept my stock in Westmore Hotels,” Mrs. Gregory said.
Nicole stared at Peter, who simply met her gaze. They both knew the reality of the situation now. Vivian St. James and Morrow Properties were trying to dismantle Westmore Hotels and doing an impressive job of it. They’d laid the groundwork with the rumors, and now they were moving in for the kill. Only Peter didn’t know that Nicole had as much as given her heart to Adam Morrow—again. And she had given him her body.
Her mind immediately went back to the silken box in her drawer filled with memories of sex so intense a person only had it with someone they loved. And a promise for a future. But it was all a lie.
“How could Vivian offer you stock in someone else’s company?” Nicole said, making one last attempt to find a chink that would make this horror fall apart.
“I asked her the same thing,” Mrs. Gregory said. “She said she had authority from Morrow Properties.”
“And Mr. Morrow?” Nicole’s own voice seemed to come to her from a distance.
“She said she was acting on his behalf,” Mrs. Gregory said.
“And this happened when?” Nicole asked.
“Just a few hours ago,” Mrs. Gregory said. “Of course, I told her I wasn’t interested in losing my Westmore Hotels stock, and I immediately contacted Mr. Baxter.”
“We’re very glad you did.” Somehow, Nicole managed to keep words coming out of her mouth while the rest of her body felt wooden. All the air seemed sucked out of the room, and she had to remind herself to breathe. The pain threatened to become overwhelming, and she could only keep it at bay by becoming wooden. Numb. Empty.
Case closed. He was a liar and deceiver, worse than she’d ever imagined. He’d left her before, but he’d never done anything underhanded to hurt her. And this after they’d spent all that time together… She thought of all the meals she’d made him. All the times they’d had sex. They’d obviously never made love, even if she’d believed otherwise.
Thank God she hadn’t called him. Peter and Mrs. Gregory had saved her from making a complete fool of herself over a man who had no conscience, someone who could send presents to make her fall for him again, all while he was working to betray her. Very likely, he’d had that package sent at the exact time when Vivian had been with Mrs. Gregory, pouring poison into her ear. Could he sink any lower?
She still had her dignity. It wasn’t much, but she’d cling to it. Right now, she’d have to get them to leave so, if tears fell, no one would see them.
She rose. “Thank you so much for letting us know.”
Mrs. Gregory also got up and approached Nicole. “I’m so sorry, dear. This must be very distressing for you.”
“It’s business,” she said. “You have to expect these things.”
Mrs. Gregory patted her hand. “You’ll overcome this. I have faith in you.”
Nicole made her face smile even as ice surrounded her heart. Breathe, breathe. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Gregory sighed and headed toward the door. For a moment, Peter came up to her and bent his head toward her. “Are you all right? You’re as white as a sheet.”
“We suspected, but it’s still a shock.”
“I’ll be in the office if you need me,” he said.
Another word would not have come out of her mouth, so she nodded and stood where she was until she heard the door close. Then she crumbled, sinking into her chair.
She’d been fooling herself that she hadn’t fallen in love with Adam. He was an addiction. One tiny taste of him and all the old feelings had come back. And for a second time, he’d betrayed her, this time much worse than the first. Then, he’d left. This time, he’d deliberately set out to hurt her, and man, had he succeeded.
It was all dust. Everything she’d hoped for. Her company. The joy when she’d opened that package. Her ability to feel again, to reach for happiness. Gone, every last bit of it. As the emptiness closed in around her, she realized that, once again, she was completely and totally alone.
…
Nine years earlier
“Hey, isn’t that your girlfriend?” Nate, one of Adam’s roommates, called to him.
Adam took the energy drink from the fridge, closed the door, and went into the apartment’s living room. The TV was on, and Nicole’s face appeared in a photograph to the side of a narrator behind a desk.
“What is this?” Adam asked.
“Perso
nalities—a show about interesting and famous people. I could have sworn she looks just like that picture you have of your old girlfriend.”
“It is her.” Only she wasn’t an old girlfriend. She was the reason he was busting his butt so hard in business school—to prove he could support her in the same luxury her father did. He’d build a better house with a bigger pool. It was just going to take time, which she didn’t seem to understand.
“Looks like she’s getting married, dude,” Nate said. “To some prince.”
Adam sat on their worn-out couch and watched the show. The woman he loved was sitting with some guy named Holst—the prince of a small European country. And she was smiling. Smiling!
His chest suddenly felt filled with ice. He’d been faithful to her, no matter how horny he got or how many temptations crossed his path, while she’d been sleeping with another man and had gotten engaged to him. What a fool he’d been. The energy drink slipped from his hand and rolled, unopened, on the floor.
“You still care for her, huh?” Nate asked.
“Not anymore.” Oh hell, yes, he did. But that “care” or, better put, “love” would burn a hole in his chest. None of it had been real. She’d probably thought she loved him, but she’d been too young to know her own mind. Her father was obviously behind this—finding a husband good enough for her, instead of someone who used to drive his car.
She hadn’t waited for him. She’d gone for the first guy who came along with a lot of money and a title.
That settled it. As of right now, his heart was closed—to her and anyone else. He was all business. “I just figured out what field I’m going to go into—hospitality.”
“Hotels?”
“Her father owns a bunch of them. I’m going to start my own company. And in the end, I intend to take him and his daughter down.”
…
Present day
Adam’s little group got the most isolated booth at the Tap Room. It matched his mood. He was on his second Scotch, but it hadn’t had any effect yet—at least not that he’d noticed.