The Tycoon's Hidden Heir

by Yvonne Lindsay

  She noted with relief that Patrick’s office door was closed as she made her way to her office. Evan must be inside, but the fact he had the door shut meant she needn’t face his demands or his filthy double entendres right now—thank goodness. She slipped out of her jacket and hooked it onto the coat hanger behind her office door and sank down into her desk chair, finding comfort in the organised chaos that reigned across her desk and every available surface. Here was where she felt most alive. Most useful.

  The business management degree she’d attained through part-time studies after Brody had been born was, next to her son, the thing in her life of which she was most proud. Patrick had insisted she continue with her studies when they’d married, giving her coaching and tips with her assignment work that had seen her graduate in the top ten percent of her class. Attaining her qualification had made everything worthwhile—even what she’d done to survive that awful year when she’d discovered her parents had mortgaged their home to put her through varsity. That in itself wouldn’t have been so bad but when her dad lost his job teaching at the small country school where they’d lived due to a Ministry of Education downsizing, she’d been frantic to make the money back for them.

  They’d sacrificed their retirement dream to see her enrolled into University without the hassle and financial pressure of a student loan, but the responsibility had lain heavily on her shoulders. When a friend had suggested she sign up at a modelling and escort agency to earn a few dollars, the idea had been a godsend. The money was good and she only worked when she could fit it in around her lectures and exams. Besides, it wasn’t as if it was in any way taxing—she’d been no more than a pretty, conversational arm adornment for out-of-town businessmen. Until that last time, when her client decided to breach the terms of his contract with the agency and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It had been that one final unpleasant incident that had blessedly led her to Patrick, who’d been staying at the same hotel where her client had made the ugly scene.

  Patrick’s calm command of the situation had despatched the other man in no uncertain terms and she’d spent the rest of the evening in his company, letting him coax her story from her and accepting his assurance that everything would work out okay.

  Tears pricked at her eyes and she reached for the silver-framed family portrait, taken only weeks before his heart attack. He’d kept it in the library at home, the room which had doubled as his office. Since he’d passed away, she’d kept it here on her desk. It made her feel as though he was still there for her somehow. She reached out a finger to trace his features. She had so much to be grateful to Patrick for, and now she’d never be able to let him know.

  Lost in her memories, the buzz of her phone startled her.

  “Yes, Mandy?”

  “Sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Davies, but you’re wanted in Mr. Davies’ office.”

  “Thank you, Mandy. Let Evan know I’ll be right along.”

  Helena fought to quell the rising dread in her stomach. Dealing with Evan always made her feel ill. His dislike of her had been cunningly veiled during her marriage to Patrick, but since his father’s death he’d been a thorn in her side and had made her life—and Brody’s—as difficult as humanly possible. His vicious contempt, coupled with the lascivious way he always looked at her, made her wish she’d worn something with more coverage than the deep V-neck midnight-blue collarless blouse and matching tailored skirt which skimmed her knees.

  Oh well, she sighed, there was nothing for it but to face him. The short distance between the offices was covered all too quickly. She hesitated a moment, smoothing her hands over her hair, which fell in a waving chestnut waterfall to her shoulders, and then her clothing to make sure she looked okay before rapping sharply on the door and letting herself in.

  “You wanted me?”

  “Good of you to turn up this morning. I trust you have a good reason for being so late,” a deep well-modulated and all too familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

  Mason! What was he doing here? Her eyes raked the stony-faced self-made tycoon as he sat in his designer suit behind her dead husband’s desk. If she’d found him remote—even for a moment—over the weekend, his demean our now supplanted any such memory. He was as impassive and impenetrable as a Mount Cook face and, judging by the stern set of his mouth, just as dangerous.

  “Surprised to see me? Good. This way we can avoid any false expressions of your questionable work ethic.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my work ethic. You don’t even know what I do around here.” Helena’s spine stiffened in outrage. How dare he turn up at her company office and accuse her of not doing her job? What the heck was he doing here anyway?

  “Ah yes, what you do around here. I’ve gathered some idea.” He snapped closed the folder of bank statements he’d been perusing and leaned forward on the desk. “What kept you this morning?”

  “I was finding out about the paternity testing—it wasn’t something I wanted to do here at work.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “God! I don’t even know why I bother to answer you. You don’t control me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” A smile stretched across his face and she was certain it had nothing whatsoever to do with pleasure.

  “What do you mean, wrong?” A sick feeling of forewarning settled in her stomach, a lump ascending in her throat.

  He swivelled round in the chair and rose to his feet, dominating her easily as he came around to the front of the desk. His proximity forced her to tip her head up to meet his black gaze. “I had an interesting time after I dropped you home on Saturday. A very interesting time indeed. You never told me that Evan was in the market to sell his shares in Davies Freight. Any particular reason you chose to not to let that snippet of information out during our…discussions?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you don’t. Did he, or did he not, approach you on Friday to buy Brody’s share of the business?”

  “He did, but he never said anything about selling his share.”

  Mason rose one sceptical eyebrow, bringing Helena’s blood to boiling point.

  “What? What lies has he spun you?” Helena heard her voice rise in pitch, sounding frantic even to her own ears. “He’s only after whatever he can get and if he thinks you believe him then he probably got exactly what he wanted.”

  “Oh, yeah. I think he got what he wanted.” Mason drawled the figure he’d paid out to Evan. Helena’s breath caught in her throat.

  “You bought him out?”

  “It was worth every cent. I’ve spent the past twelve hours assessing the position here and, Helena, it’s not looking pretty.”

  “Of course it’s not. I told you on Friday he was ruining the company. I asked you for your help.”

  “It’s not that simple. I’m requesting a full audit.”

  Helena’s shoulders relaxed in relief. Thank goodness she’d finally have some proof of Evan’s scurrilous dealings. Once they found out what, exactly, he’d been doing, they could put into action a recovery plan. The sooner she could get onto that, the better. “I’ll get you our accounting firm’s number.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be calling in my own team of experts.”

  “But we’ve dealt with Flannigans for years. Patrick went to school with Ed Flannigan, for goodness sake.”

  “Which is exactly why we need a fresh eye on the books.” Mason leaned a hip against the side of the desk and crossed his arms. “There’s one other thing. Until the audit is completed you’re suspended from your duties.”

  “Suspended? Why?”

  “I don’t want any question about your involvement, influence or otherwise, with this audit.”

  “So can I continue to work from home?”

  Mason’s brow furrowed and his eyes trapped her piercing intelligence. “Do you usually work from home?”

  “Sometimes, yes. Patrick often did and I’ve found it necessary sometimes since he p
assed away. The computer at home is linked to the mainframe here. It just makes things easier, especially if something unexpected crops up after hours.”

  “I’ll bet it does.” Mason’s comment was spoken so softly Helena wasn’t even certain he’d said anything, but his next words rang loud and clear. “No. You won’t be working from home anymore.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Who’s going to do my work? With Evan gone as well there won’t be anyone here in authority.”

  “Except me.”

  “You? You have your own business to run. When will you have time?”

  “You forget. This is my business now, at least half of it, anyway. I have perfectly capable managers at BKT who can reach me if they need to.”

  Helena kept her hands firmly at her sides—difficult to do when all she wanted was to bunch her fists and let loose some of the frustration bubbling up inside of her. “And will I still be on full pay during this suspension?”

  Mason let out a laugh that had nothing to do with humour. “Money. It’s always about the money with you, isn’t it? Surely you have enough to manage on, or have you burned through all of Patrick’s funds already?”

  “Of course not! Patrick’s estate is frozen, awaiting the grant of probate from the High Court. In the meantime I rely on my salary to meet day-to-day expenses. Brody’s boarding fees are due this month, too.”

  “Well, they may not be your worry for much longer.” Mason paused before continuing. “If the money’s that important to you, then yes, you will still be on full pay.”

  “Thank you.” He’d never have any idea how much it galled her to be discussing money like this right now. All through her childhood, they’d scrimped and scraped. She’d sworn she’d never be a victim of straitened financial circumstance again.

  Mason leaned across the desk and flipped the switch that put him through to reception. “Mandy? Would you send up the security detail I brought with me this morning?”

  “Security?” Helena could only manage an incredulous whisper. “Is that really necessary?”

  Mason ignored her question, his expression stony.

  “The guards will take you to your office where you can get your bag. When you’re done, I’ll escort you home.”

  “Why are you doing this? It isn’t what I asked of you at all.” What lies had Evan poisoned him with? Now that her stepson had what money he wanted by selling out his shareholding to Mason, did he have to try to destroy her, too? The answer was painfully simple. Of course he did. It’s what Evan did best. But even he probably couldn’t have imagined that Mason would treat her this way. Like a criminal.

  “You need to learn, Helena. I do things on my terms, no one else’s.”

  A knock sounded at the door and two burly uniformed guards came in at Mason’s request. Helena caught the Black Knight Transport logo on their sleeves, leaving her in no doubt that Mason meant every word he’d said. Already he was infiltrating Davies Freight with his staff. How long before her son’s inheritance disappeared into the ether?

  “You can’t do this, it’s…it’s underhanded. You’re raiding Brody’s inheritance—robbing him. Stealing your own son’s birthright!”

  “Birthright? Isn’t that exactly what’s under examination? Right now, Helena, I’d advise you to be careful about who you hurl your insults at. Until Brody’s parentage is confirmed keep your opinions to yourself, or you will find out exactly how underhanded I can be.”

  Helena stiffened at his threat but it wasn’t enough to dampen the blaze of red-hot fury that flashed across her eyes. The old Helena would not have thought twice about lashing out to score her nails across that stony visage. The new Helena had to satisfy herself with imagining it. As if he could read her mind, Mason stepped forward, a tiny smile curling up one corner of his mouth.

  “I wouldn’t do it if I were you.”

  Helena shook with suppressed anger and clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides. She thrust her chin up and demanded, “Do what?”

  “Whatever it was that made your eyes flash green fire just then. You know, Helena, if we’re going to sort this out, you’ll have to learn to control your temper better. Your expression is a dead giveaway to exactly what you’re feeling. Don’t ever take up poker.” He nodded over to the guards. “Please escort Mrs. Davies to her office and see that she only removes what she arrived with this morning. Everything else is the property of Davies Freight.”

  “You’re no different than him, no different at all,” Helena spat before turning for the door.

  “Than whom?”

  “Evan. He always wanted what was Brody’s, now you’re doing exactly the same thing. I should never have asked for your help. Never!”

  “Perhaps you should have come to that conclusion earlier, or maybe you should have approached one of your other lovers for help instead of me.”

  Other lovers? Nausea rose in her throat and she swallowed against the lump that lodged there. She dragged in one deep breath, then another.

  “I beg your pardon. I don’t think I understand you.” She was relieved to hear her voice sounded measured and level, especially when she felt anything but. Was he accusing her of infidelity during her marriage to Patrick?

  “Come on, Helena. What happened? Did they all say no? Was I your last resort?”

  Helena stiffened her spine. She wouldn’t dignify his accusations with an answer. Last resort? He’d been her only resort and that fact alone was enough to now make her truly fear, not only for her son’s future, but also for her own.

  Six

  Lost for words, Helena spun on her heel and stalked to her office, followed closely by the guards. The gall of the man to even suggest that she’d take anything that wasn’t hers, let alone suspend her from her job. A pain in the region of her heart made her reach for the portrait photo. This would never have happened if Patrick had listened to her and slowed down a bit more. If, for once, he’d done as the doctor had urged. Helpless tears filled her eyes but she willed them back and pressed her lips together to hide their telling tremble.

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am, you can’t take that.”

  “What?” Helena paused as the guard removed the framed photo from her hands and set it back down on the desk. “You must be kidding me.”

  “Orders from Mr. Knight. Nothing but what you came in with this morning.”

  “That’s just ridiculous. Let me sort this out right this minute.” She moved past the desk and made for her door, only to have her passage blocked by the unyielding form of one of the guards. “Move out of my way—now.”

  “If you’re ready to leave, we’ll escort you to the lobby.”

  “I am not ready to leave. I demand to speak to Mr. Knight. Get out of my way.”

  The door behind the guard opened and Mason’s imposing figure filled the frame.

  “Sorry, sir. But she wants to take the picture.” The older of the two guards gestured at the portrait on her desk.

  “Causing trouble, Helena? Why am I not surprised? Thank you, gentlemen, I’ll see her out from here.”

  Helena stood in absolute silence as the two men left the room, her seething gaze locked on Mason’s impassive face and her mind tumbling the words that clamoured for pole position out of her mouth. Without breaking eye contact she reached across the desk to where the guard had replaced the frame, and picked the photo up. She clutched the picture to her chest with one hand while grabbing at the strap of her shoulder bag and hooking up her suit jacket with the other.

  “Now I’m ready to go.”

  Mason put out his hand. “Give it to me, Helena.”

  Oh, this was crazy. There was no way on this earth she was leaving here without the portrait. She pressed it more firmly against her breasts.

  With an exasperated sigh, Mason’s hand reached forward, his fingers brushing against hers as they curled around the frame. The proximity of his fingers to her skin, masked only by the silky blouse she wore, didn’t go unnoticed either. Her breasts swelled in th
e lacy cups that held them, her nipples tightening almost immediately into hardened nubs. Her mouth dried as a visual image of his dark head bent over her breast burned across her retina. The moment’s inattention was her undoing as he gave the frame a tiny tug, causing her to lose hold of it. She gave a small exclamation of dismay as the picture dropped from their collective grips and struck the corner of the desk with a sharp crack before hitting the carpeted floor.

  “Oh, look what you’ve done.” Helena bent swiftly to retrieve the picture before it could be cut by the shards of glass.

  “Stop. Don’t touch it.” Mason grasped her hand just before she could lift the photo from the debris.

  “It’s all right, Mason. I think I can lift the photo up without cutting myself.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” He bent down and flicked over the backing of the frame, exposing a folded sheet of paper which had been tucked behind the photo.

  Carefully he unfolded the sheet, the set of his mouth growing grim as he read the rows of numbers on the sheet.

  “Let me see that.” Helena reached for the paper.

  “I don’t think so. Was this what you were trying to smuggle out of here, Helena? Is this where all the money’s been going?”

  “What on earth are you talking about? What money?”

  “Don’t play the innocent with me. If there’s one thing I’m sure you know all about, it’s money.”

  A sick feeling settled deep in the pit of her stomach. “You’re talking in riddles. I just want our photo. It’s the last one I have of Patrick with Brody and me.”

  “I’ll have it reframed for you and delivered to the house. Now come on. I want you out of here.”

  “Surely you’re not suggesting I deliberately hid something in that frame?” A mirthless laugh escaped her tightened throat. The sound flitted across the room before falling flat when she realised by his gaze that that was exactly what he was suggesting. “You’re wrong. You have it all wrong.”