Penelope didn’t need me rushing in to save her; she had already saved herself and taken care of the situation in the best way she could with the options available to her. But I sure as shit wasn’t going to sit back and watch Constance and Toddrick take something from Penelope that she had earned fair and square. Penelope had worked too damn hard to have a conniving witch like Constance and her limp-dick husband take that job from her by force.
Penelope had done what she thought was best, to protect her future when she was offered an impossible choice. Now I had to do what I thought was best, and that meant only one thing.
“Moira!” I shouted, and the woman was in the office so fast, I could only assume she had been standing right outside the door. I knew she and Penelope had gotten close over the months, so her concern was warranted. And I had been doing a lot of shouting in this office tonight, even for me.
“Yes, sir?”
“I need a flight to New York as soon as possible,” I barked, my usual gruff manner now even more pronounced.
Moira didn’t seem to mind, if the smile that split her face was any indication. “Yes, sir!”
“Wait,” Silas said, causing both Moira and I to turn to him. “Make it two.” Moira nodded and hurried away.
Silas looked at me, not speaking, but expressing more than words could ever say all the same. Silas was my best friend, we had stood with each other through everything, and I had fucked it up with my stubborn attitude. It was time I made amends, for real, not just the bullshit non-apology I gave him earlier.
“Silas, man, I…I’m sorry. I was such an asshole.” At that he snorted, some humor entering his gaze. “I know you’d never do wrong by Daphne. I know she’d never meet someone who would treat her better or with more respect than you would. I’ll keep my nose out of your business from now on. I promise.”
He stared at me for a bit, then shook his head. “Thanks for that, Stone, but I am afraid that ship has sailed.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I broke it off at Daphne at your request, she got pissed. She accused me of being a coward and not fighting for what I wanted, and she was right. Best friend or not, I shoulda knocked your ass out over her. But I didn’t, and she deserves better than that. She deserves a man who would fight for her. Like I should have.”
He was sad, I could hear it in his voice, but like me, his pride got in the way. I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed, not saying anything, but conveying everything I could in that one gesture. When he smiled at me and punched me in the arm, I knew we were gonna be okay.
“Alright, jackass,” he said, shaking me off. “Enough of this emotional shit. At least one of us has to get the girl in this story, and it looks like it’s gonna be you. Let’s get our asses to New York.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Stone
“I just can’t believe she would do such a thing.” Harold paced in front of the fireplace, his face contorted in a frown. I scoffed and he looked up, meeting my eyes, then he sighed. “Alright. I can. I can totally believe it. But I just don’t understand why. I gave her anything she ever wanted.”
“You couldn’t give her this.” I was sitting in one of the wing-back chairs my father kept in his study, enjoying a bourbon and the fireplace as well. It may be the end of April, but it was definitely not warm in New York. “Not if you wanted to keep the company alive. Toddrick is an idiot. Having him as VP of Marketing would have been a disaster and the board would have had your head.”
Three days had passed since Penelope had resigned from Pennington Hotels, and Harold was still struggling to come to terms with Constance’s treachery. Hack had come through, delivering all the information we needed to nail Constance for a litany of cyber crimes, as well as a few real-world ones, like blackmail and sexual harassment, just to name a few.
The problem was, I wasn’t sure that was the best choice anymore. If we went public with her crimes, people would need to know details, and I wasn’t willing to put Penelope in a position to have to deal with all that public scrutiny. More often than not, it didn’t matter how innocent a woman was in a situation like this, people thought the worst of her, regardless. I didn’t want that for Penelope.
If there was a chance that Constance could be made to pay, without having to involve the police, and, by necessity, the press, that would be ideal.
And I really wanted her to pay.
I had been having fantasies of my father completely disinheriting her, forcing her and Toddrick out onto the street, and making her have to actually get a freaking job for once in her life. She wouldn’t be so stuck up if she had to put in a forty-hour week like the rest of the world.
I thought of Penelope’s parents, hardworking everyday people who, while they had admittedly struggled, had probably been happier than Constance had ever been a day in her life. My own mother, though she was often lonely and maybe even a bit sad, was still full of light and joy more often than not.
Then there was Penelope. Through hard work and dedication, she had earned a scholarship, a prestigious position, and, according to Harold, the VP promotion as well.
“Shit,” Harold cursed, slamming his fist on the mantle as he made another pass. I’d never seen him this agitated; kind of reminded me of my own temper. As I watched his face, scowl firmly in place, it occurred to me that I was more like Harold than I knew. Our mannerisms, our actions, even our facial expressions, all so similar. I hadn’t spent as much time around him growing up as he’d wanted, and that was on me, but even with our interactions being minimal, I’d turned out to be just like him in so many ways.
I guess blood really was thicker than water.
“How do you want to handle this?” I questioned, knowing that as CEO he had a lot riding on this situation and how it was handled. Harold turned to me, his face scrunched in concentration, and I noticed, really, for the first time how old my father was. How much time I had let slip by and all the opportunities we’d missed to be, well, a family. I set my glass down and stood, moving to him and waiting for him to decide the fate of Constance and Toddrick. Once I knew what he wanted to do, then I would go talk to Penelope. I would tell her that she was getting justice and her job back.
What she wanted to do about us would be another conversation all together. Because as far as I was concerned, there sure as shit was an ‘us’, and I wasn’t her giving up without a fight.
Finally, Harold seemed to come to a decision. “Give me a few days. Is your friend in California available for a little additional contract work? I think we will need his assistance.”
“I’m not sure he does the kind of work you’re looking for,” I replied. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what kind of work he did, but I knew it was likely not the same sort of stuff Harold was used to dealing with.
“You let me worry about that. Just get in touch with him and let him know I will make it worth his while. I will compensate him handsomely for both his speed and discretion.”
A grin split my face as I watched Harold, seeing the wheels turning in his head. “You devious old man,” I chuckled. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
He smiled wide at me for a moment, then his face fell. “I think there is a lot we don’t know about each other, Stone.”
I blew out a breath, feeling my chest constrict at the direction this conversation was going, but, if being with Penelope had taught me anything, it was that there was no time like the present. You never knew when your whole world would change, and I had wasted enough time trying to prove a point that didn’t need proving.
My father loved me, regardless of how his relationship with my mother turned out. As a son, I had come to realize that that was enough.
It was time I told him so.
“Harold, I owe you an apology.”
“No, you don’t Stone,” he started, but I raised my hand.
“Yes, I do. I never gave you a chance. What happened between you and mom, that should have stayed between you and her. Yo
u never did anything but right by me, and I turned my back on you every time. I am so sorry for that.”
Harold stared at me in open-mouthed shock as I spoke, and by the time I had finished, his face had crumpled, eyes wet as he fought back tears. He took a deep breath, and then another, before he responded.
“I loved your mother. I truly did. When I had to leave Austin, I asked her to come with me, but she refused. She told me she didn’t want to tie her life to a man and not have anything for herself. That she wanted to be someone before she became someone’s other half. I should have respected her for it. Instead, all I saw was a person who wouldn’t do what I wanted, what I thought was best. So, I left, and I left her behind. I thought that my loving her should have been enough for her. It was foolish and impulsive and I have regretted it every day since.
“I thought about her so many times,” he said, his voice catching. “I wanted to see how she was, what she was doing. But I didn’t want to look weak, so I intentionally stayed away. Actively refused anything to do with the Austin location, until I couldn’t make any more excuses. I returned to Austin, and there you were.” His eyes shone with love as he took me in, reaching out to grasp my shoulders, and I took a deep breath of my own.
“I swear to you, Stone, if I had known, I would have been there in a heartbeat. You are everything I could have hoped for in a son, and I could not be prouder to call you mine.” With those words, something inside me shifted, clicking into place where previously there had only been a void, a black hole filled with anger and resentment.
He was proud of me, proud that I was his son.
I wasn’t a mistake.
He wanted me.
I closed my eyes against the tide of emotion battering against my insides, feeling whole and complete in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. When I opened them again, I looked at my father and for the first time, I felt nothing but love. There was none of the resentment, none of the pain that I had spent a lifetime collecting, using it as a shield to hide the broken kid I was.
The broken kid that I made myself into by refusing to accept that what my father’s actions weren’t intended to hurt me. That he had done the best he could, the best I had allowed him to do.
I lifted my hands, shaking slightly with the energy flowing through me, and placed them on Harold’s shoulders, imitating the way he held me. I couldn’t remember a time when we had touched like this, affectionately, and the longer I held on to him, my fingers clawing at his shoulders, the more I realized I had been missing it.
Suddenly, like neither of us could wait a second longer, we wrapped our arms around each other. I stood there, grasping him like a lifeline in a turbulent ocean, and at that moment, there was nothing in the world that could make me let go of him.
My dad.
* * * *
It was the first time I had been to the Pennington Hotel corporate headquarters, and frankly, it was underwhelming. The hotel, the flagship building in the Pennington Empire, was impressive, of course. It was old-world class, the epitome of uptown style and sophistication. Over one hundred years old, the build looked like something out of a fairy-tale, all white and shining in the middle of the typical Manhattan gray. Designed in the French Renaissance style, with gorgeous Corinthian columns lining the entire frontage, each column standing almost three stories tall. The grand limestone steps at the center of the building opened in a sweeping arc to the street and as a result the entire thing looked like it had been picked up from the French countryside and dropped into the Upper East Side. Taking up an entire city block, it contained thirty floors of rooms and suites. Some of the most expensive suites were owned and used like apartments, the occupants taking full advantage of all the amenities of staying at a hotel, but with the ability to put their clothes in the closet permanently.
The top of the building was done in a series of castle-like turrets, topped with domed and faceted roofs of hammered copper, now showing their green patina after so long exposed to the elements. The windows were all of repetitive size and shape, with the top floor showcasing incredible Palladian styled windows, arching dramatically toward the sky.
It was through one of these monster windows that I now watched as the traffic below crawled along, no one looking particularly excited to be going wherever it was they were headed. Couldn’t say I blamed them, with every block looking just like the next, this place truly was a concrete jungle. If it wasn’t for the gorgeous spread of Central Park in front of me, I might start feeling a little claustrophobic. As it was, I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this town. I’d never thought I would miss Las Vegas, but having spent almost a week in the eternal fog that was Manhattan, I was ready for the bright lights of Sin City to welcome be back into their lively embrace.
Turning my back on the view, I faced the boardroom housed on the top floor. Technically, this was more like a mezzanine floor, as the guests were told their penthouse suites were on the top, but this was a taller, and smaller floor, that you couldn’t see from the ground, caged as it was behind the towers with their copper roofs. It provided the executive staff with a nice view, but didn’t take away from the pomp and circumstance of the penthouse guests, because, lord forbid they not feel like they were at the top of the world. But all told, the head office area was probably smaller than the building we had been working from at the back of The Alamo property for the last few months. But space was always at a premium here in The Big Apple, so the residents didn’t tend to bemoan their small digs the way people in the rest of the country might.
The table in the conference room held a dozen men and woman, with room for more. The board of directors for Pennington Hotels, they were the ones dad called when he needed to make big moves. He may have been the CEO, but the board of directors was in charge of the purse strings, so to speak, and anything that affected the bottom line had to be put to them first.
I’d gotten well acquainted with them over the last four days, to say the least.
Things had happened so quickly, I could hardly believe it myself. Personally, I wanted to march right up to Constance and tell her exactly what I thought of her bullshit behavior, but dad had reasoned with me. In order for this to work, things had to be done correctly, and that meant following protocol. I hated it, because all I wanted to do was get to Penelope, but in order to protect her, protect both of us, this had to be done right.
I was still standing with my back to the window when the door opened again and Constance breezed in, looking for all the world like she owned the place, even though she never would.
And that thought made me inordinately happy.
I had never wished her ill, not really. Sure, I laughed that time she fell in the mud, but come on, that was what siblings did. But I had never actively interfered in her life. But she had crossed a line when she messed with Penelope, and I was about to show her what that meant in the way that would hurt her the most.
Her pocketbook.
The haughty look on her face fell for a moment when she saw me standing there, but she was quick to replace it again, moving towards our father and pressing an air kiss to his cheek before turning her narrowed eyes on me. We just stared at each other, neither giving anything away, until Toddrick slumped into the room, his red-rimmed eyes staring down at his phone.
“Thank you for coming, Constance,” Harold started, completely ignoring Toddrick as he flopped down into the nearest chair. I watched as Constance’s nostrils flared as she saw him rubbing at his nose, but she kept her perfect socialite face in place and took a seat closest to the action.
“Of course, Daddy,” she simpered. Shit, she was really laying it on thick. “You said it was important. I knew you wouldn’t have pulled Toddrick from the Atlantic City project for the day for nothing.”
“You’re right. It is important.” Harold cleared his throat, his eyes going to me. I knew this was hard for him. Having just gained a relationship with me, he was now risking what he had with Constance, because there was no way she
was going to take this lying down. I didn’t push him, just sat quietly and let him come to terms with what he was about to say.
“As you know, I have been thinking about the future of Pennington Hotels for a long time. It was always important to me that the company be kept in the family. I built this empire for my children, and I wanted to be able to pass it down to them when the time was right.” He paused, and I could see Constance’s pupils dilate as he talked. I knew the woman liked money, but she was actually turned on at the idea of taking over. As if dad would pass the reins to either her or Toddrick. Constance had never done anything in her life more difficult than choosing a plastic surgeon, and Toddrick, well, he’d never really done anything. If it weren’t for the fact that his own family was absolutely rolling in money, Constance would never had looked twice at the lazy lout. But Constance being what she was, she didn’t choose her husband for his shining personality, she chose him because he was in line to inherit a significant fortune from his father, who ran some sort of investment company.
“With this in mind, and with the unanimous approval of the board, I would like to announce that the new Chief Executive Officer of Pennington Hotels will be my son, Stone Pennington,” Harold finished with a smile and a gesture to me. The board members gave a light round of applause, and I nodded my politely.
I could have done without that, to be honest.
But the whole time I never took my eyes off of Constance. Her face, usually so bland and expressionless, was now morphing into a look of pure rage. Her lips curled back, showing her overly bleached teeth, and her cheeks burned an angry red under her expensive foundation.
“What?” she shrieked, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Except, Toddrick, of course, who appeared for all the world as if she hadn’t spoken. “Father! This is preposterous. Stone can’t be CEO. He’s not even a real Pennington!” she growled the last part as if the fact that we shared any blood at all was fundamentally offensive to her.
The Cowboy and the Bombshell Page 23