Oh wow.
“Olivia, I need someone I can trust, someone always by my side. But the job will require a lot of hours, as well as travel. I’m opening a new club in Vegas soon, and I’d need you there with me. We’d probably go to Vegas a lot.” His lips quirked into a quick smile but faded as he stood up. “I respect you, Olivia. You’re not like most of the women who work here.”
Yeah, I’m almost thirty. I cover my cleavage. And, oh yeah, I don’t want to sleep with you.
“I know I have a certain reputation at the office.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “And it’s not that I’m not attracted to you.” He grinned, exposing his bright, almost too-perfect, teeth. “You’re by far the sexiest woman here, in fact. But I need to exercise restraint when it comes to you because I see big things for your future.” He walked around behind his desk and took a seat in the leather chair, which looked so much more comfortable than the tiny red one on which I was perched.
“What are you trying to say?”
“My goal is to groom you to run one of my nightclubs someday. Maybe even more than one. Business is booming for me, but it’s exhausting to directly manage my manufacturing companies as well as my entertainment ones. It’d be nice to bring you up in the ranks so that you could help me out.”
“Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe it. Not really.
He nodded. “You have an MBA—you shouldn’t be wasting your time as an admin.” He scratched his chin and tilted his head. “I have no idea why you took the job to begin with, but I’m glad you did. I have greater plans for you.”
“I don’t know what to say, Mr. Reid.” I did know what to say, but I figured I should act meek. Maybe bat my eyelashes a few times for added measure.
“Say you’ll start now. And stop calling me Mr. Reid. From here on, I’m just Declan to you.” He reached into his desk drawer. “Here.”
I reached out and caught the set of keys he tossed my way.
“One is a key to my club, The Phoenix, and the other is to your company car. I hope you don’t mind driving an Audi?”
Was that supposed to impress or excite me? “Wow. I’m a little shocked by this.” I stood up and set the keys on top of my tablet. Fortunately, after the last eight months, I’d mastered the level of flattery required to impress such a narcissist.
“You can go ahead and pack up your desk. You won’t be reporting here anymore. I have an office set up for you at The Phoenix.” He looked pleased with himself as he leaned back in his seat.
“Thank you,” I bit out.
“Be at the club at eight. We’ll have a briefing to discuss your new roles and responsibilities before we open.” Declan glanced down at his ringing cell and waved me away with his hand.
“Well, what did he want?” Claire asked as soon as I returned to my cubicle.
“Don’t you ever work?” I motioned for her to get out of my seat.
“Did he mention me?”
“No, Claire.” Clearly she didn’t intend to heed my earlier advice. “He offered me a new job.”
“What?” she gasped. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. What job?”
“His personal assistant. I guess I’ll be helping him with his nightclubs.”
Something that sounded like a squeak escaped her lips. “Oh my God. I’m so jealous. Can you get me on the guest list for a VIP booth at The Phoenix this weekend?”
“Um. Sure.”
As I sat down at my desk, the red logo of Reid Enterprises swirled across the screen of my computer, ricocheting against a black backdrop. For the first time in eight months of working at Reid, a bubble of hope swelled inside of me.
Chapter Three
Connor
“I still can’t believe he died of a heart attack.” Mason scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I mean, I know he had heart issues in the past, but I just didn’t expect this.”
“Technically he died of a stroke to the brain,” my dear old mom chimed in.
I stood in the doorway to the lawyer’s office, not overly enthusiastic to hear my father’s will. “Why are you here?” I snapped at her. “And why are we having this meeting right after the funeral?”
My mother looked up at me from her seat. She ran a hand through her auburn hair and wet her red lips. Really, Mom? Fire engine red? At least she had managed to wear black. I’d half expected her to show up in glitter and feathers.
“I have to get back to Scottsdale today. Jerry has an important golf tournament.” She pressed a hand to her chest as the lawyer cleared his throat behind me. I stepped aside and allowed the lawyer entrance to his office.
“You shouldn’t even be in this meeting. You really think he put you in his will?” I tried not to laugh at the absurdity of my hard-ass father leaving anything to my mother, who was now his ex-wife—the woman who gave up custody of my brother and me in exchange for the yacht and a home in Aspen. Well, maybe that wasn’t quite what happened, but it was pretty damn close.
She ignored me and directed her attention toward Mason, who was a lot less jaded than me. He didn’t know what I knew about our parents, however. He didn’t have the privilege to see how ugly they could be.
Guilt pulled at me as I fought the continued urge I had to be angry with my father. The man was gone—there was nothing left to say.
“How are you feeling, sweetie?” My mom rested her hand on my brother’s shoulder, but his attention was still on me.
“Let’s just get this over with.” He gestured for me to join them.
“I’ll stand.” God, I didn’t want to be there. Even if my father put me in his will, I didn’t want anything from him.
“Connor? Mason?” The lawyer perched his black rimmed glasses on his nose and slid two envelopes in Mason’s direction. “A man dropped these letters off the day after your father passed away. He told me that your dad wanted you to have them.”
Mason reached out and grasped the envelopes. “Take it,” he urged, pushing his arm toward me. My name was written on the envelope in black capital letters.
I sighed and grabbed the letter, feeling the slight weight of it in my hand, then folded it in half and stuffed it in my back jeans pocket without more thought. I swallowed the lump in my throat, crossed my arms, and moved to the window, which overlooked 5th Avenue.
“Who delivered the letters?” Mason asked.
“I believe it was your father’s personal driver,” the lawyer responded.
“Tyson?” I turned back around. I hadn’t seen Tyson in years. He was a good man, a former Marine. My father had hired him over twenty years ago, and Tyson had been with him ever since. Where was he now? Who would he work for now that my father was gone? “Do you have a contact number for him?”
The lawyer looked at me. “I don’t, but I’m sure your father’s office will have his information.”
I nodded and turned back to the window, making a mental note to call my father’s secretary, Elsa. God, I hadn’t seen her in years, either. How long had I been away?
Still not long enough . . .
“I really must get going. Perhaps you could go ahead and start?” My mother’s voice grated on my ears. Was it wrong that my own mother got on my damn nerves?
“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 righ
t. 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.
Buried Lies (Hidden Truths) Page 2