by P. Dangelico
You Can Have Manhattan
P. Dangelico
You Can Have Manhattan
Copyright © 2019 by P. Dangelico
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-578-52919-6
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover: Najla Qamber, Qamber Designs
Proofreading: Judy’s Proofreading
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by P. Dangelico
Chapter One
Sydney
Life-changing moments rarely announce themselves. They prefer to sneak up and sucker punch you in the face by way of greeting. That’s how it happened to me. It started as a day like any other. Until it wasn’t. Until it turned into both the best and the worst day of my life.
“Look at me, Sydney,” Frank calmly ordered from across his desk.
Frank Blackstone was always calm and always giving orders which was why I ignored the request and continued typing on my smartphone. A small snag in a contract for a property we were acquiring––and what I mean by “we” is Blackstone Holdings––needed my immediate attention. In all likelihood, it was going to keep me working throughout the weekend once again, but such was life as general counsel of this company. Frank was always either buying or selling something, and I’d known what I was getting into when I took the job. Not only did it not bother me, but I relished it.
“I said look at me, Sydney.”
Holding up an index finger, I continued to type one-handed. I’d tried to reschedule our usual Friday morning meeting only to be told in no uncertain terms to get my butt over to his office pronto. So here I was––butt in the chair across from him pronto even though the contract snag had to be untangled before the end of the week.
“Wilson & Bosch is trying to sneak in a last…minute…clause…bastards…”
Being a woman in a male-dominated business meant I was often underestimated and seldom given the respect I deserved. It didn’t bother me. On the contrary, I used it to my advantage and laughed all the way to the bank. I was accustomed to this nonsense and had remarkably thick skin when it came to business. This eleventh hour BS, however, was a downright insult to my intelligence and they were about to find out who they were dealing with.
“I’m dying.”
“Just give me ooone more minute, Frank…”
“Put it down, Syd. I’m not going to ask again.” The impatience in his voice told me to wrap it up. Frank was not the type you wanted to keep waiting.
Hitting send, I placed the phone on the antique walnut desk that separated me from my boss and glanced up, my eyes meeting the dark eyes belonging to the man I worshipped and adored. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. Like the man, Frank’s office was eclectic. The furniture American Colonial antiques, the art on the walls from the surrealism period, and the rugs Persian.
“Done. You were saying?”
He adjusted the white French cuffs of his signature Turnbull & Asser shirt, laced his hands together, and placed them on his trim midsection. “I said I’m dying.”
My smile dropped as I processed the claim one letter at a time. This had to be a joke. “Is this one of your pranks? Because I have a long day ahead of me and I really need to get some food before I go through the updated proposal and make sure they didn’t booby-trap it.”
I couldn’t keep the skepticism off my face, nor out of my voice. And I wouldn’t have asked if the man in question wasn’t famous for pulling pranks. Frank once threw a ridiculously lavish party for a thousand of the world’s richest people, then sent them a bill for their share of the cost. True story. When they refused to pay, he threatened to publicize it in his newspapers. Frank owned three. Everyone promptly wired the funds and Frank donated the ten million dollars to Child Find of America.
Was I privately pleased? Damn right, I was. Needless to say, Frank’s pranks were hilarious when I played accomplice. Not so much when the joke was on me.
“With a little luck I could live another twelve months…” He sighed. “…but I’m not betting on it.”
I couldn’t wrap my arms around all the feelings I was simultaneously experiencing. Whatever force was holding me up vanished. Slouching in the leather wing chair, I began to sweat in my black Jill Sanders suit while my mouth ran dry. Mostly because I knew Frank better than I knew myself and his expression told me he wasn’t fooling around.
Frank Blackstone was not only my employer, but a many other things as well. Mentor. Friend. Father figure. The closest thing to a father I’d ever had. And most importantly, the only person who had never let me down. I loved him. He’d taken a barely-out-of-law-school graduate and given me every chance to succeed. And succeed I had thanks to him, quickly climbing up the ranks at Blackstone to become Frank’s right hand. Being named general counsel of Blackstone Holdings at age thirty-four was an accomplishment few people could speak of and I would eternally be grateful to him.
“How?” Mired in shock, my voice sounded hollow.
As we stared at each other, the silence thickened. So many unspoken truths hung between us. Neither of us wanted to acknowledge that moments like this one, with the two of us sitting across the desk from each other, like we’d done for years, would soon go extinct.
“Melanoma.”
Frank cut an imposing figure. He was large-framed and big-boned, a Mt. Rushmore of a man with the gravitas to match. Standing an easy six foot three at seventy-one meant that Frank had been even taller at one point. And not beyond getting his hands dirty. I’d once watched him change a flat on his Rolls-Royce Phantom in under half an hour on the shoulder of the FDR––during rush hour. Even his driver, who had thrown out his back, was amazed.
And yet he looked smaller to me in that moment.
For the first time since I’d met him, sitting in the oversized custom chair made to accommodate the bravado of a man who had built a global company from the ground up with a mere fifty thousand dollars, Frank Blackstone looked his age.
“But…you beat it…”
His attention wandered out the floor-to-ceiling window, the Manhattan skyline gray and soggy. Only roofs were visible from this height. He’d purposely d
esigned the executive suite on the top floor to make sure his adversaries knew he would always look down upon them. I had thought the story over-the-top, dramatic as fuck, but that was Frank in a nutshell.
“It beat back.”
Seeing him look so calm and accepting of the situation bothered me, made me feel powerless. And that was one emotion I didn’t handle very well. “Frank…”
He looked at me and his expression shifted, the change in him lightning quick. I wasn’t sure what triggered it, but stone-cold resolve replaced the vulnerability he’d worn only a moment ago. It was a look I’d come to know well, the same one Frank donned when he was going for the nuts on a business deal. I didn’t know what to make of it, my own emotions being on a rollercoaster and I hadn’t strapped in for the ride yet.
“I want you to do something for me.”
The inflection in his deep voice shook me out my heavy thoughts and sparked a heightened sense of awareness. Frank’s requests routinely ranged from just short of committing a felony to fetching him a glass of water and you never knew which one was coming because he delivered both in the same innocuous tone. “I need to know that Blackstone will stay in family control. I don’t trust the board to do right by Marjorie.”
Marjorie…my heart broke for her. Marjorie and Frank were inseparable. They still held hands at public events. Frank’s wife was one of the kindest ladies I’d ever met.
“Does she know?”
“Yes…we’ve known since September.”
It was the first week of December. My confusion quickly switched to anger and betrayal. Frank never withheld anything from me. At least, he hadn’t until now.
“You’ve known for months and didn’t tell me––your general counsel? I gotta say, I’m kind of pissed.”
The chair squeaked as it tipped back a fraction, Frank’s stare flat. “I needed time.”
It was as cryptic a reply as he’d ever given me.
“Time for what? What did the doctors say? And why aren’t you at MD Anderson right now? You need to fight this!”
The best defense was a great offense. Frank had taught me that. And yet he didn’t look like he was gearing up for a fight at all. “Attack first worry about the consequences later. Remember? You filled my head with that junk for years. Years, Frank. And now you’re just going to go quietly into the night?”
“Calm down,” he softly admonished. “I don’t have a lot of time left and I’m not about to spend it arguing with you.”
That knocked the fight out of me. With it went my frustration and my strength. “I’m sorry. I just…I can’t believe it.”
“I’m going to miss you too, kid.” A heavy dose of sympathy filled his eyes. An understanding passed between us. Bittersweet nostalgia. Neither of us was the type to emote and here we were, both emoting as all get out. “I want to make sure the line of succession is clear, that it won’t end up in court once I’m gone.”
Wallowing in my own grief, already mourning the loss of the one person I could always count on, I absently nodded. There wasn’t even a question––anything Frank wanted I would grant. Anything in my power to give was his to have.
There was only one heir available to step in. His son, Scott. Whether he deserved it or not didn’t matter. Devyn, his daughter, was happily married to a tech wunderkind and living in Silicon Valley. A mother to four girls, she had less than zero interest in Blackstone Holdings. I had little to nothing good to say about Scott because…well, to put it bluntly, Scott Blackstone was a loser. As much as I hated the word, it was properly awarded in this case.
I’d met the heir apparent over a decade ago, at Frank’s daughter’s wedding, and had thankfully seen little of him since. Scott was a walking cliché, a proud club-carrying member of the caveman association, addressing every woman––whether he knew her name or not––as babydoll. I mean really, who did this in 2019 the year of our Lord?
Basically, he was a rich asshole who spent his time fucking and fighting, traveling the world in search of the latest party and the next adventure. The opposite of everything I deemed good. Not to mention the oversized ego on him, which was record-breaking.
According to Scott, every woman who had the good fortune of crossing his path fell at his feet in a puddle of overwrought hormones. He’d even accused Frank’s longtime secretary, Diane, of “fondling his package” once. Right before, God rest her soul, Diane passed away of a heart attack at the tender age of sixty-nine while sitting at her desk.
Yeah, the man was unbearable. But I would bear him––for Frank. I’d help Scott transition into the role of Blackstone’s honorary CEO. And that’s all he’d be because no one on that board was going to allow Scott to do anything other than decide which restaurant the company holiday party should be held at. And even that was iffy due to the very real danger of Scott choosing an upscale strip club.
“Have you spoken to Scott?”
“I haven’t been able to reach him.” Frank’s lips thinned and the lines around his eyes became more pronounced. He exhaled tiredly, which often happened when he spoke of his only son.
“How’s this going to work? Is he going to handle day-to-day decisions?” It was intended as a joke and Frank knew it. Scott had not done an honest day’s work his entire worthless life. Frankly, I had my doubts about how long he’d last in an honorary position. And it wasn’t even for lack of intelligence. The only thing Scott lacked was character.
“I’m giving you controlling interest, to act as Marjorie’s proxy…I want you to take my place.”
There was a loud buzzing in my ear, then a pop. Like my brain had overheated and shut down. I started laughing. Partly relieved, partly nervous. “Now I know this is a prank. Woosh.” I gestured a swipe of my brow because no one loved drama more than Frank, so I gave him some. “What a relief. You got me, Frank. But seriously. I have a shitload of work to do––”
A paw-sized hand landed on the desktop, the slap exploding throughout the office. Surprised, I flinched, the amusement draining out of me all at once.
“This is not a prank.”
“Okay…okay,” I said, backpedaling as fast as I could. “I apologize…” A deep breath later, I tried again. “You know I love you, Frank, and I’m flattered. I would do anything for you. Anything. But putting me in charge will guarantee this ends up in court.”
“Correct. Which is why you’re going to marry Scott.”
The buzzing was back. I couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. “Come again?”
“You’re going to marry my son.”
Had the cancer traveled to his brain already? That’s the only plausible excuse I could think of. “You can’t be serious.”
“As serious as melanoma.”
“Frank––” I said as gently as I could. The word tippy-toeing out of my mouth. One could only push Frank so far. Then he transformed into something akin to Juggernaut, complete with a head made of metal he liked to bludgeon people with.
“Sydney,” he countered, cutting me off. “This is a business arrangement. You will marry Scott. You will stay married to him for three years. During that time the two of you will behave as a married couple in public. You will not do anything to besmirch the Blackstone name. You will manage this company successfully thus ensuring the board will shut the fuck up about it. After which you two can do as you please. Get a quiet divorce. Whatever your heart desires. Scott can go back to doing whatever the fuck Scott does and you will continue to helm this company as a Blackstone. Have I made myself clear?”
He hadn’t been kidding when he said he needed time––and he’d spent that time drawing up the plans from hell. Frank, however, had always valued my opinion and my metaphorical balls. He would’ve never made me second-in-command otherwise. I had never shied away from giving it to him straight before and this time was no different.
“I…can’t.”
Frank frowned. More a puzzled look than one of disapproval. After a meaningful pause, he asked, “Are you in love?”
Doubt softened his tone. As if it only now occurred to him that I could be unavailable. Then again, in all the years I’d known him I’d never brought anybody to any of the numerous company events I’d attended. And he had no idea about Josh.
“No.”
“Dating anyone worthwhile?”
I almost laughed. Dating? What was that? I hadn’t had time for a date in double-digit months. Working seventy-hour weeks wasn’t exactly conducive to a kick-ass social life. “No, of course not––”
“Then what’s the problem?” he said, jumping in. “Or is it the marriage you take issue with? Do you consider it sacred?”
That pulled a smile out of me. “No.”
“So there’s no ideological reason you’re refusing to close the deal of the century?”
Frank and his hyperbole. I had to put a stop to this thing before it gathered steam. “Permission to speak freely?”
“Permission granted.”
“How can I put this nicely…Scott’s a pig. I wouldn’t marry him if I had a gun to my head.”
Frank chuckled. “He’s rough around the edges.”
Understatement of the century. “I’ve always loved your ability to look on the bright side. He’s the worst misogynist I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
His grin widened. “He’s a man’s man.”
“C’mon, Frank. Even you know––”
“Fine. He’s not your type. I get it.” He leaned forward in his chair. As if everything he was about to say next was going to be of the utmost importance. “He doesn’t have to be, Syd. He only needs to be your husband for enough time to show the board that you’re more than capable of taking charge of this company. And for that to happen without them trying to undermine you every step of the way, you have to have Scott at your back. He’ll be a powerful ally.”