Takeover: A Step-Brother Romance (The Legacy Book 1) (10 page)

“What if...” I leaned into the table. “What if Darius no longer led the Bennett Corporation?”

Samuel chortled. “Darius Bennett? Retire? Son, he’ll be older than me and still guarding his office with a bottle of whiskey and a loaded gun.”

“Not necessarily.”

For the first time in the seven years I had known Samuel, he sharpened. He wagged a finger at me, rasping a dry cough.

“Now you sound like your father.”

“The Bennett Corporation impacts many people’s lives. My family, but also our stock holders and investors and their families. Their...bunnies.”

“Very true, son.”

My voice lowered. I had no reason to protect hypotheticals. My back ached, an imaginary pain I would ignore. The strain tightened along the largest scar tracing my shoulders, itching as though it had ruptured.

“If the stock holders aren’t pleased with the direction of the company, changing leadership is the easier and more rectifiable choice. I can’t have all our voting members selling stock because of a presented offer that seemed more tasteful than dealing with the issues at hand.”

Max hadn’t moved. I ignored the text message buzzing in my pocket. The adrenaline flooded my blood. Our blood. Bennett blood.

Either excitement or betrayal would poison me.

At least it wouldn’t target my brothers.

“What are you proposing?” Sam asked.

“Stop the sale.”

“Why?”

“Because I can offer you better than the Atwoods.”

“How?”

“A different vision for the company. Safer investments. More sustainable profits regardless of environmental conditions which may impact our largest customers.”

“You’ll need help.” Sam scratched his chin. “And a majority of the shareholders are loyal to your father.”

“The company is mine by right.”

“Not yet, my boy, not yet.”

I sipped my water. The thrill that shocked through my body wasn’t fear. It was pleasure. Pure strength.

A newfound
freedom
.

“I’ll put the company’s interests before my own. Blood forgives, profits do not. If you give me your support, grant me a little time to speak with our other voting stock holders, I believe I can present you with a profitable solution. I’ll guarantee your continued growth within our company.”

“And Darius?”

“He’s a businessman.”

“He’s also your father.”

A fact he never let me forget. What was a more damning sin—the loss of profits or the destruction of a family? The Bennett family thrived on the power granted by our name, the influence of the men in our bloodline, and the shared secrets taught father to son. Generations of Bennetts wielded family like a sword and armor, and success was our ultimate victory.

But times changed. Economies changed. Politics changed.

And some Bennetts abused the honor in our name.

So why not herald the change and assume what belonged to me before the generations of success and wealth, power and glory turned to the same dust choking our customers’ farms?

Sam nodded. “The stock stays.”

Max stiffened. Even my brother—a man strengthened by every martial art money could train—folded under the implication. He frowned, but he said nothing. Like all Bennetts, he knew his place.

But mine wasn’t right for me anymore. I wanted more. Something conquerable and profitable that would grant me more power than my father ever dreamed.

I liked it.

Too much.

“You won’t regret this,” I said. “And neither will the Bennett Corporation. A change like this benefits us all, Samuel.”

He chuckled, shaking my hand—the age old business standard which sealed more than just a gentleman’s agreement.

It offered me the opportunity to have everything.

To control everything.

To own
everything
.

Samuel clapped my brother on the shoulder. “Matt. Nice to see you again.”

Max didn’t correct him. His gaze burned through me, but the wine was cool, a rich vintage that the Bennetts preferred. I swirled the crimson and waited as Samuel shuffled from the table. Once, my brother’s silence might have concerned me. But now?

I relished it.

He wouldn’t be brave enough to offer me congratulations, nor would he break a rigid code of conduct and interrogate me in the restaurant.

A waitress fluttered past. I snapped a finger, and she nodded, hurrying past her other tables and darting into the kitchen to fetch another bottle of wine.

“I’ll attend your investor meeting tomorrow, Max.” I thanked the server with a hundred from my jacket pocket and nodded for her to leave. She studied Max, her lips parted ever so slightly, but he ignored the brunette as she shimmied away. “You don’t have to come.”

Max downed his wine. “No. I think I should be there. What the hell are you doing?”

“What’s best for this company.”

“What about the family?”

“One and the same, Max.”

He didn’t believe me, but it was the first moment in twenty-nine years I thought clearly.

I wasn’t protecting the family anymore. The only way we’d survive was if someone
saved
it—from within and from the external threats that would only further destroy what control we held over the market, the investors, and our customers.

A change in ownership would preserve the standards we upheld.

And holding the girl captive? It eliminated the Atwood threat, but my father’s long-term solution was cruel. Still, ruining Sarah to seize her company would win the war. Other options must have existed, but we didn’t have time for the battles it’d require.

Sarah was almost twenty-one, and that made her dangerous. Her heir would secure us for generations, fortifying a legacy built of darkness, lies, and undeniable wealth. But a single mistake and she’d have the legal and moral power to rip us apart.

But I’d fix it. And I’d do it before only the ashes of success remained.

But a real plan required time. Management. Escaping the impenetrable will of my father.

Max stole the bottle and poured another glass. He preferred hard liquors, but it was unsightly for a man to drink more than a single whiskey at a business lunch. He chugged the wine instead.

“If Dad finds out what you just did, he’ll kill you,” Max warned. “What the hell possessed you to be that fucking reckless?”

“When have you ever known me to be reckless?”

“First Sarah Atwood, now this? You aren’t acting sane.”

“If I can secure enough investors to vote for a change in leadership, maybe the girl will go home. Eventually. Once this is done.”

“Eventually?” Max ground his teeth. “What the hell do you mean
eventually
? Just tell Dad
no
.”

And enrage him? He’d take his vengeance out on our prisoner, then he’d have my actions and correspondence, meetings and parties monitored and scrutinized by his own private investigators and personal associates.

No. We had one option, and I pitied the girl I couldn’t rescue.

Sarah Atwood would save the Bennett Corporation in two ways.

She would either bear a child we created to secure a future which joined our assets—or her presence and inevitable resistance would distract my father while I forged a partnership to depose him.

Neither future offered the girl much hope, but I’d never ask forgiveness from an Atwood, even if she was beautiful, young, and completely innocent to the sin trapping her within our beds.

My phone vibrated once more. The message was just another complication. Max read my expression and stood as I did.

“Problem?” He asked.

Slight. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

“Sarah Atwood has escaped.”

The mansion was easy to escape.

The estate? Not so much.

The Bennetts prided themselves on extravagance, independence, and privacy. Their home wasn’t just a decadent manor comprised of dozens of rooms, wings, and glamour. They owned nearly as much land as us. But instead of planting crops or tending animals, they wasted good, fertile soil on meticulously crafted gardens with sculptures of dark creatures, aggressively coiling roses, and an endless path which stretched beyond the courtyard and into an overgrown forest of shadows and menace.

The Bennetts lived in the wilderness by choice, and they were rich enough to buy time. A car took too long to deliver them to San Jose. They installed a helipad on the roof of the estate.

A
helicopter
.

The Atwoods were wealthy, but my father wouldn’t dare let his children gallivant across the world in a
helicopter.
My brothers had to wait for his death before they even felt comfortable traveling in a private jet.

The jet that ultimately claimed their lives.

Maybe Dad was onto something.

I stole a bottle of water before I bolted, but I drained it in a coughing fit as soon as I passed beyond sight of the house.

I couldn’t run. A day without medication and the stress of the kidnapping scoured my lungs. The cool water helped, but nothing would combat the hardening of my chest. Even if I had my inhaler, I wasn’t getting far.

My feet crunched against broken twigs and scattered pine needles. The cobblestone path wasn’t used often, but I hoped the road beyond the private property would be populated. Tourists explored even the most scenic road routes, and the Bennetts lived just outside wine country.

Someone would find me. When they did, I would reward them for the opportunity to call the police, my stock holders, and my doctor.

My main priority was getting the hell off their property. Once I was home, I’d figure out how best to torch that prison to ash.

I coughed. The path blurred as the dry wheeze prickled me with a headache. I groped across the road and leaned against the base of a redwood.

The redwoods teetered over their estate, and the air chilled in the shade of the trees. Redwoods and firs, oaks and scrub, ferns and stones littered the forest. The view was more exotic than the acres of corn surrounding my home, but the mid-summer pollen stuck to my throat.

I’d have to go slower.

The Bennetts had no idea I suffered from asthma. For all I cared, they’d assume I died of starvation trying to crawl my way across their endless property. Some secrets were too important to reveal.

My hike wasn’t the act of defiance I planned. My escape shifted into survival. I had to contact my doctor and fill my prescription. I fell behind on my pills, and I was already anxious without my rescue inhaler.

I wouldn’t think about it. The pollen was bad, but as long as I was walking, I’d be okay. If I was free, I’d be okay.

Those bastards thought they could trap me in the house. Maybe they hoped I’d cower in the corner waiting for my step-brothers to rape me. Maybe they figured that I’d be too terrified to fight.

One thing was certain.

They didn’t expect me pitching a chair through the dining room window to make my escape.

A Bennett could repair a window with the change in their pocket—but I’d give the Atwood fortune to watch Darius Bennett pop a vein in rage.

The rumble echoed in the distance. I pushed away from the tree as the bike thundered along the path. I cursed. My luck depended on whoever followed. Reed wouldn’t hurt me. Max would, but he wouldn’t kill me.

And Nicholas?

I missed a breath. I couldn’t fear Nicholas. I refused to give any Bennett that pleasure.

But I wasn’t comfortable around him. His golden stare shattered me and then examined every piece to determine how he could use it to his advantage. The cadence of his voice beat against my body harder than my frantic heart. His unbreakable poise rivaled my resolve.

Nicholas seared through my defenses with a reserved word and didn’t flinch when I opposed him.

I’d rather face Darius than Nicholas.

Which was why I didn’t answer the amber-eyed rider as he slowed to my side.

Whatever leathers and helmet my step-brother wore while abducting me were gone, cast aside for an imported, tailor fit suit, complete with navy blue pocket square and vest beneath the jacket. He might not have worn a cut displaying his city and club and every dastardly crime he ever committed, but the suit exposed more than he wished.

He was stylish. He was arrogant. He was ruthless enough to pursue me on a motorcycle.

I was the fox, he was the sportsman, and the twisted machine he rode the noble steed he whipped, tamed, and beat into submission. I hadn’t made it far from the house. And yet he chased. He
hunted
.

He watched me with a wicked amusement.

“Ms. Atwood.”

The words rolled off his lips—the crashing of thunder or the whisper of fire. Both left me chilled and hot and…flushing.

My steps slowed, but not out of respect for him. The quick pace and breathless anticipation of his chase clattered my lungs. I debated stopping to pretend to listen to his terms, or collapsing against the path, forcing him to drag me to my exquisite cell.

The bike surged forward, blocking my path. Nicholas must have anticipated I wouldn’t climb on the beast willingly. He adjusted his tie and unbuttoned his jacket before dismounting.