“Yes, of course,” the lawyer responded.
A guttural noise riveted my attention; my brother was clearing his throat.
With my back against the windows, I kept my arms crossed and focused on the cream carpet beneath my shoes. The lawyer began reading, but my mind was elsewhere, tuning him out.
“He what?”
My mother’s shrill voice knocked me out of my daze. “What?”
“He left me nothing. After all those years—really?” She pushed to her feet, clutched her purse and bent over the desk. She snatched the file from the lawyer’s hand.
“Mom.” Mason grabbed the document and handed it back to the lawyer. “You need to get a grip.”
“Easy for you to say—he left you and your brother everything.” She did something ugly with her mouth. I don’t even know what you’d call it. A scowl?
“Listen, I don’t want whatever he left me.” Everyone looked at me as their mouths edged open.
“Connor,” Mason began, and I already knew my younger brother was about to lecture, “I need your help.”
“Since your father’s business was privately held, it looks like you two are in charge of everything.” The lawyer stood up and removed his glasses, resting them on top of his paperwork. “Matthews Tech hovers around two billion dollars.”
“Did you just say billion?” Mason pushed a hand through his dark brown hair. “Wow. I didn’t think it was worth more than a few hundred million.”
“It wasn’t until last October when your father signed a two-billion-dollar contract with the Saudis.” The lawyer reached for his tie and tugged. Did he hate wearing the noose of a tie as much as I did?
“As in Saudi Arabia? Where my troops are currently stationed?” Mason’s brows pinched together as he stood.
“Aren’t we missing the point here? He didn’t leave me anything,” Mother dodged in. “Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake?” She glanced down at the file.
I’ll take bullets in Mexico over my mother’s entitled attitude any day.
“Were you a part of the deal with the Saudis?” Mason asked.
“I wish.” The lawyer chuckled somberly. “No, I just handle your father’s personal assets.”
Mason approached me, and I pushed away from the window. “So, you’re going to help me run the company, right?”
My brother knew I was against everything my father stood for—did he think I would wear a suit and sit in board meetings all day? Hell, no. “You’re kidding?”
Mason’s silvery gray eyes appeared empty. Sad. We’d just lost our father, but I couldn’t bring myself to shed a tear. What did that make me? Watching Mason stand over our father’s casket at the funeral, his normally steely composure broken by sadness, had been as close as I came to crying.
I know that makes me a prick, but our father was a Grade A asshole.
“Connor.” Mason rubbed the back of his neck. “You know I always wanted to take over Dad’s company. But I still have almost six months left on my tour. Can you, at the very least, run the company for me until I’m back home?”
Fuck. How in the hell was I supposed to say no to that? Risk my brother worrying about the business while he’s off fighting fundamentalists in the Middle East?
A whistling noise escaped my lips as I blew out a breath. “I don’t know how to run a business. You know what I do, right?”
“Why don’t you sign everything over to me, Connor? Jerry’s a businessman; he can handle the business until Mason’s back. And Mason and Jerry can run the company together.” The wheels were spinning in my mother’s head. “Everyone would be happy.” She pressed a hand to my forearm.
My eyes locked on her hand, which looked like that of a thirty-year-old, rather than that of the sixty-five-year-old woman my mother was. What money could buy . . .
Mason immediately interjected with, “Hell no.”
My mother’s arm dropped to her side as she spun around to face him. “What do you mean, no?” She puckered her lips. “I’m your mother, Mason. Why wouldn’t you want me to be involved?” she drawled.
Now where in the hell had she developed a Southern accent? We grew up in Manhattan, for Christ’s sake. Mason ignored her, focusing on me, his eyes pleading.
“Mason, I don’t have a clue about business, and college was a decade ago. I don’t remember anything.”
Ask me how to disassemble an automatic weapon—I’ll do it for you in record time.
“Perhaps I should leave you alone to talk,” the lawyer said on his way to the door.
Mason shifted his attention to me once again. “Connor, I need you.” There was a rasp of desperation in his voice.
Six months. Could I run a billion-dollar business for six months without tanking the whole damn thing? Or losing my mind?
“I’ll do it.” My own words surprised me.
Mason flung his arms around me.
“Jeez.” I stepped back from him. “Only until you’re back. Then the company is all yours.”
***
“You should’ve called me.”
“You were on your honeymoon, dude. I wasn’t about to get in the way of that.” I reached for the tie around my neck and fidgeted with the knot, loosening it. “How do you do it, Michael? How do you wear these damn things?”
“Wear what?”
“A tie.”
A light chuckle rose and fell. “Hi, Connor.”
It was Michael’s blushing new bride. “Hi, Kate. Sorry—I didn’t know I was on speakerphone, or I would’ve said hi earlier.”
“Connor?”
How did she manage to do that? Say only one word, my name, but pack it full of such emotion that it made the hair on my arms stand up. “Yes?” I leaned back in my seat and squeezed my eyes shut.
“Michael’s right, you know. You should’ve called us. At the very least, you could have called us when we got back a week ago. Mason sent Michael an email saying to check on you. I can’t believe we had to find out that way.” Kate huffed.
“Hey, you’re not allowed to be pissed at me. I get a pass, don’t I? Since my pops passed.”
“Stop joking around, Connor. You don’t have to be that guy right now,” Kate shot back, her voice ringing a blow of honesty I didn’t want to deal with right now.
“I’m fine. Really.”
I’d come to terms with my father’s death. I just couldn’t get myself into his office until this week.
“How does it feel to be rich?” Michael quipped, easing the tension, for which I was grateful. It had been six years since we’d both been in the Marines. God, time flew by.
I cleared my throat and opened my eyes. “Oh, it’s fucking great. But the hours are shit.” I moved closer to my desk and tapped a few keys. An email with a red exclamation point popped up. I really hated this. Emails. Seriously? I never would’ve thought this would become my life. How’d I go from bullets to board meetings? “Sorry, Kate.” I try not to make it a habit of cursing around women, but sometimes I forget.
“Is there anything you need? Can we visit?” Kate’s voice slipped through the line.
“No, I’m okay, but I’m swamped right now. I’ve only been in the office three days, and I’m ready to throw in the towel.”
“Just hang in there. Your brother needs you.” Michael, the voice of reason. Damn him.
“All right. I’d better get back to work. I’m sure I have some mind numbing meeting to attend to. I’ll be in touch. Later.” I hung up before they had a chance to respond. I didn’t mean to come across like a dick, but I wasn’t in the mood to discuss my feelings today. And I knew Kate—she’d find a way to peel back the layers, while I preferred to keep my skin thick.
I looked up to see Elsa, my father’s secretary—well, now my secretary—tapping on the frame of my open office door. “Elsa, you don’t need to knock. Come on in.”
“I still haven’t been able to get ahold of Tyson.” She pushed a hand through her short white bob and took a seat in front of
my desk.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, sir. I’m just worried about Tyson.” She removed her red framed glasses and shifted in her seat.
“Me, too. You’ve called his phone?”
She nodded.
“Has anyone checked his home?” I pushed to my feet and shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Yes—no answer. No one has seen him since your father passed away.” Her voice cracked. How close had she been to my father?
“Do you need some time off, Elsa?” The thought had never crossed my mind before. Had she cried when I hadn’t?
“I took some time off before you started.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, but thank you for your concern.”
“All right. Well, keep trying to reach Tyson. I don’t need a personal driver, but I do miss him.”
“Of course.” She glanced down at her lap for a brief moment before looking back up. “You have a meeting with Lauren Tate now, the director of sales and operation. She just got back from Saudi Arabia this morning.”
I’d lost count of how many people now worked for me and what their names were. I guess I needed to learn them and soon. “Sure. Send her in whenever.” I sat back down and gave a slight nod to Elsa before she stood and left the room.
“Connor Matthews?”
An attractive brunette was standing in my doorway a few minutes later, wearing a figure-hugging, sleeveless black dress that revealed her long, toned legs. “Lindsey?” That had been her name, right? My mind was a garbled mess.
Her lips quirked at the edges as she approached my desk, her eyes studying me. “Lauren.”
At least I had remembered it began with an L. “Hi, Lauren. Nice to meet you.” I stood up and extended my hand. “You’re so young.” She couldn’t be any older than twenty-five. “And in such a high up position . . .”
Her brows lifted as her lips parted.
“Shit.” I pushed a hand through my hair, mussing it up. “I’m going to get myself sued or something, aren’t I?”
She cracked a smile. Whew.
“I’ve seen pictures of you before. Your father showed me—”
“He did what?” I shook my head in disbelief. “He showed you pictures? Why the hell did he do that?”
I probably wasn’t supposed to swear at work. Or check out her legs. I needed the HR department’s number on speed dial.
She blushed a little, and her dark brown eyes focused on me with laser-like precision. “Your father was proud of you guys.”
Her words reminded me of the envelope from the lawyer. I hadn’t read my father’s letter, which was still in the glove compartment of my Jeep. That’s where I’d stashed it after the reading of the will. For a brief moment, I wondered what it said. I’ll read it, at some point, I promised myself.
“You seem surprised.” The way she said the word surprised, with both R’s rolling a bit, I wondered if she was born somewhere else. If so, she didn’t seem to like her accent. It was as if she went out of her way to over enunciate things.
“Lauren, I’d prefer not to talk about my father, if you don’t mind.”
Her forehead creased, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. “We have a meeting tonight.”
“Tonight?” I scratched my jaw, the stubble pricking my fingers. I had just shaved off my beard the other day, but damn did my facial hair grow fast. When I had showed up to the office on Monday in jeans, a T-shirt, and a full beard, the looks I got . . . well, I decided I’d better look the right part. And so I’d shaved, bought some suits, and have been trying to trick everyone into believing I actually belonged.
“We have a meeting with Declan Reid at The Phoenix.”
“The Phoenix?” I shook my head. “Why do I have a meeting at a nightclub?” I reached for my coffee but noticed Lauren’s gaze on my chest.
Did I have a stain? I looked down, adjusted my red tie, and checked my white dress shirt. Nope, everything looked good.
“Sorry, what was I saying?” She blew out a breath and forced a tight-lipped smile. “Your father was in the midst of a major business deal with Declan Reid. Did you want me to cancel?”
I thought about it for a moment, trying to filter through the barrage of facts in my brain. Had I heard of Declan Reid before? For some reason, the name sounded vaguely familiar. “No. I’ll go.” I couldn’t help but picture my father at a club. The thought was almost funny enough to help me forgive him. Well, not really.
“Did my father always do his business at nightclubs?” I joked.
She smirked. “Declan owns The Phoenix and many other companies, but he preferred meeting with your father at his club and at night.”
“In the Meatpacking district, right? I thought that place was on the verge of closing down years ago.”
“It was, but Declan turned it around. It’s always packed with models, actors, and trust fund babies. A great place to people watch.”
“Sounds weird to meet at the club, but okay.” I sipped my black coffee—the third of the day.
She stood up. “Meeting’s at eleven. My car’s in the shop. Mind picking me up?”
“Eleven?” Was she serious?
“Yeah.” A smile teased her lips. “I’ll text you my address. See you tonight.”
I waited for her to leave, before I rested my elbows on my desk, and pressed my hands to my face. God, I was going to lose my mind if I kept at this much longer.
Chapter Four
Olivia
Various shades of light ping-ponged off the walls in the club as the music poured through the speakers. The DJ waved his arms around, moving to his music. Whatever happened to the days when DJs spun vinyl?
Leaning against the bar closest to the dance floor, I shut my eyes and tried to seal out the sounds of the music I had once loved. I’d managed to avoid listening to it for almost ten years.
But it was hard to ignore the loud thumping base. The DJ was pulling off a unique blend of talent—Maroon 5 and Tiesto, maybe? God, did I want to dance. But not only was I working, I hadn’t moved my feet to music since—
A sharp, stabbing pain pricked the walls of my chest, deflating me of the oxygen I desperately needed in the hot crowd. No, I couldn’t think about that. I’d never survive this job if I let my memories haunt me every time I came into work.
It had been a little over three weeks since I began my new job with Declan. It was much better than being at the office, but I still didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere.
“Olivia, can we talk?”
It was Declan. “Sure.” I followed him out of the main room of the club, down a long hallway, and into his private and absurdly lavish office. I’m not sure if Declan thought he was Hugh Hefner, but there were two women in his office, decorative fixtures in tight, revealing getups. Then there were the two metal cages he had set up in the corners of his office. Did this place turn into some kind of DOM club after hours?
My skin flushed, like it always did, every time I walked across the red carpet and past his two, um, ladies to sit in front of his desk.
It was all just very . . . odd.
I cleared my throat and tried to focus.
“Veronica. Summer. We need some privacy.” Declan slid into the seat behind his modern black desk, and the two women sauntered out of the room in their death trap heels. The one called Summer pulled the door closed.
“I have a meeting tonight.” Declan lifted his iPhone from the desk and used his thumb to unlock it. “There’s a big deal I’ve been working on, which pertains to Reid Enterprises, but we usually meet here instead.” He tapped at his smartphone and slid it away before focusing his dark eyes on mine.
“Okay.” What was he expecting me to say?
“I need you to sign something.”
I reached for the paper he slid across the desk. A non-disclosure agreement. “What is this about?”
“Anything you may hear at this meeting must never be shared with anyone. The information is sensit
ive. Classified, even.” He leaned back in his leather chair and clasped his hands against his chest.
“I would never share anything about my job, anyway.”
“Of course not. Nevertheless, I need you to sign this.”
“Sure,” I managed and grabbed a pen from his desk. “Who are you meeting?”
He scratched the back of his head and narrowed his eyes at me. “Actually, the man I was working with died of a heart attack a few weeks ago.” There was a slight pause and a twitch to his lips. “I’ll be meeting his predecessor tonight.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, is there anything I need to do to help prepare for the meeting?” I fiddled with the pen in my hand.
“No.” He reached for the paper I’d signed. “You probably won’t be in on the meeting, actually. You could serve us drinks, though.”
I dropped the pen and shot him a look. “So, why did I need to sign—”
He held up his hand, stopping me. “In case you overhear anything. Or, if the deal is resumed, as I hope it is, I might bring you in. Just covering my bases.”
“Sounds good.”
“You’ve been dying to ask me about those for weeks.” A smile skirted his lips. “Go ahead.”
I must have squinted in some lame attempt to act like I had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m sorry, what?” I stood.
He glanced over his shoulder at one of the metal cages. “You sure you don’t want to ask?” His eyes were back on me, assessing me.
“Nope, I’m good. Let me know if you need me for your meeting.”
“Have Bobby make three gin and tonics. The meeting starts in five minutes.” He smoothed a hand over his black dress shirt.
“Of course.”
I left the office, walked down the hall, and made my way to the main bar on the ground floor. It was massive in size with a sleek wall of glass behind it, allowing the light in the room to reflect off it. “Hey, Bobby. Boss needs three gin and tonics,” I hollered over the noise as I pressed my hands on the sticky counter.
“You’re looking good tonight.” Bobby’s brown eyes focused on me as he poured the gin.
He was always flirting, even though he was probably two or three years younger. I wondered how much those years mattered, now that I was one year away from thirty.
Innocence & Betrayal Page 25