Unlikely Allies (27 page)

She bit and clipped the side of her tongue, blood pooling under it. Over the sting and the lump in her throat, she swallowed the acidy-salty fluid into the pit of her sunken stomach, along with her infuriated, clamped-down response.

“When at first you don’t succeed . . . I’m sure you’ve heard that saying before, Ms. Tyson. In the corporate world we learn tenacity, perseverance, and how to overcome adversity. Otherwise, we fail. I study my opponent, do my research, and change strategies. I always get what I want.
You
—I do not want for my grandson. You and your brat are welfare-laden expenditures, expecting a handout, and an inconvenience—an expense my grandson does not deserve. So, I’ll appeal to your parental side, and the affections you may have . . .
created
for my multimillionaire grandson.”

As he belittled her and Cece, the best, most precious gift she’d ever received, tears streamed down her cheeks and over the shaky hands covering her gaping mouth, repressing her screams, but not her whimpers.

He leaned forward, hands clasped on the edge of the desk, ready to launch his closing attack. “You—are to stay away from my grandson. You—are not to pursue him any longer. You—are not to bring that bastard child anywhere near him. If you do, Ms. Tyson, you will lose. I didn’t get to where I am today without meeting plenty of influential people. One call, that’s all it would take to destroy you. You think your husband was bad. You have no idea what evil is until it comes knocking. Or in this case—faces you, head on.” Mr. Horatio Stone stood and slammed the door on his way out, expecting his solemn vow to be followed without haste.

The one and only time—he’d been right.

T
HIRTEEN DAYS, THREE HUNDRED AND
twelve hours, and eighteen thousand seven hundred twenty seconds passed since Rick saw Maggie or Cece. Several months of intense negotiations had culminated in two weeks of hell, leaving him with little sleep and not much time to do anything but work. He’d even slept in his office a few nights. A sign-on-the-dotted-line critical moment, his Thursday had been spent visiting both corporations to ensure the owners and CEOs had their wishes finalized. His success depended on preventing any last-minute catastrophes, especially before the three o’clock powwow in his conference room. When he entered the office at one, Mrs. Collins racing up to him didn’t decrease the incredible tension.

“Mr. Stone, I’m sorry, sir, but you need to go to boardroom right away.” Her flushed face, hurried marching, and frantic plea put him on instant alert. In all the years he’d known her, he’d seen her that way one other time—the day his dad had a massive heart attack.

Taking her lead, he picked up his pace, a rapid stride matching hers. “Catch me up before I go in there. What’s going on?” If a person could turn stark white, he could’ve sworn she did. Her wide eyes caused him to stop and grab her arms in case she passed out. “What is it?”

“Your grandfather, he, he—”

Not waiting, he cut her off. “Causing trouble?”

She gave a jerky nod. “The board members are there too. An unannounced meeting. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know. When I came back from lunch, I found them in there and then you arrived. I didn’t have a chance to call and warn you.”

Grandfather’s impeccable timing as usual. Shit.

He took several calming breaths. If he went in there half-cocked, visibly upset, his grandfather would pounce. A few seconds would make no difference. Whatever Grandfather planned wouldn’t change in a blink anyway. Every reserve he could muster sucked up, he entered the boardroom as if he expected the last-minute meeting. Yet, deep down, it would take every semblance of calm, cool, and collected executive power developed over the years to get through the inevitable disaster about to happen.

“Grandfather, gentleman, it seems you forgot a member. Sorry to crash the party, but as CEO, I should be aware of and in attendance at all meetings. Who’s going to catch me up and disclose what’s going on?”

Of course his grandfather stepped up, his wheeling and dealing grin in place. “I’ve convinced the board we need to head in a new direction.”

Before his grandfather could elaborate, Rick moved in, forcing himself to stroll with confidence toward the table where all twelve were gathered. Except his grandfather—he stood front and center at the helm. “And which would that be?”

“The merger with Kensington Securities.” Grandfather rested on the edge of the oval-shaped table and crossed his arms. How it didn’t crash and burn from his enormous ego and inflaming plans he had no idea.

Mentors were valuable assets at any stage of life. Therefore, having had several, first his father, then his grandfather, and for a considerable portion of time, Mr. Kensington, he learned strategizing from the best. The critical key: maintain a poker face and know when to bluff.

“Well, there’s a problem with that.” He paused for effect. His grandfather quirked his brow but showed no other visible signs or cause for concern. Besides, just as he didn’t like to reveal his hand too quickly, neither did Grandfather. Horatio Stone would wait him out. “John and I were jogging in Central Park the other day, and he mentioned he had other plans that didn’t include us. So . . .”

He and John hadn’t gone running yet, but he bargained on the fact they didn’t know that. Buying time, he shoved his sleeve up and glanced at his watch, discovering he’d wasted a good thirty minutes on this craziness. The fact he still had tons of things to get ready before three didn’t help alleviate his incensed but still under control temper. He directed a don’t-mess-with-me stare at each member, including his grandfather. As casually as possible, he said, “Unless you’ve spoken to him in the last twenty-four hours, you might want to check on that. You know, get confirmation before bothering busy board members with more of
your
plans.”

In that instant, the board members launched a slew of battering questions but not at Rick. They were directed at his grandfather.

“Mr. Stone.” Mrs. Collins rushed in and silence came over the room. “This message came for you.”

“Can it wait?”

“No, sir. It’s . . . important.” She marched over to him, handing him a slip of paper.

He opened it and read the writing three times. His vision blurred with each glance. He’d been proud of his ability to keep control through this shitstorm, but it wasn’t until he had the handwritten note in his possession that he truly lost it.

As shaken and frayed as his nerves were, his single-minded concentration had one target. “I have to go.” He turned his back on the stunned, open-mouthed members, and directed Mrs. Collins. “Get Sherman and Shultz and K Corp execs on the phone. Cancel.”

“Where the hell are you going, boy?”

He spun around, stomped up to his grandfather, and blasted him with thirteen years of pent-up fury. “You want this? You’re going to get it. But it won’t be with me.” His arms extended out to his side, he yelled, “Take it all. You want to be CEO? Fine, you’re it. You want to merge? Do it, I won’t stand in your way. 'Cause you know what? I. Won’t. Be. Here. I’m done. Finished. Take it, take it all!”

And he stormed out—straight to the emergency room.

He’d been in the waiting area for almost an hour without word. Nurses and receptionists hounded every few minutes produced nothing. His executive powers had no value here.

“Any word?” Matt appeared out of nowhere, plopping into the hard plastic chair next to him. After a couple pats on Rick’s back, he said, “I got here as fast as I could. It’s been a hell of day. I had a ton of fires to put out before I could get here. Mrs. Collins got my message to you I see.”

“Thank you. Remind me someday what I owe you.”

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll be even on your wedding day.”

Rick sat up from staring at the floor and collapsed his back against the wall. He shoved his palms into his closed eyes and chuckled, sucking in a breath or two to stop the tears. “Man, I can’t find out anything. Please help me.” He wiped his wet cheeks with the backs of his hands and bent over, laying his arms on his legs. “You talk about pullin’ a rabbit out of a hat. How about doin’ that now?”

Another slap landed on Rick’s back, and Matt stood. “Done.” And off his best friend went, dogged determination directed at the same receptionist Rick had asked at least forty times to tell him something.

When Matt strutted over to the hard as nails, female version of Attila the Hun, Rick glanced at the clock on the wall and in less than two and a half minutes his buddy returned, sitting next to him again. “Okay, the doctors examined her. She’s been taken to surgery.”

“What?” he yelled, pacing and sounding off at the same time. “What happened? Where’s Maggie? How’d you find out? Can I go back there?”

“Whoa, calm down. You’re freakin’ me out a little and that’s hard to do.” Matt gripped Rick’s shoulders and shook him once. “Cece has appendicitis. They caught it before it burst, but they’re takin’ it out. Maggie’s in the operating waiting room with Kat. It’s gonna be at least two or three hours. They just took her to the OR.”

Rick collapsed into a seat and shoved his hands through his hair. He squeezed his scalp over and over again, trying to massage the tension out of his head. Then moved on to his neck and kneaded it too. “Fuck.” He looked at Matt and asked, “How’d you get that out of Ms. Prune Face? What’d you have to threaten her with? I wanna know, because I tried a hell of a lot of 'em and got nowhere.”

Shaking his head, Matt patted him on the back again. “If I didn’t feel so bad about the condition you’re in, I’d tease the fuck out of you. But let’s just say you catch more flies with honey. Were you absent during that lesson?”

Rick blew out a breath and dropped his head against the wall, so fast and hard that the loud, dull thump sounded like someone threw a chair against it. He rubbed the ache that started at the crest of his skull. “I have no clue, except her condition sounds serious. Anything involving surgery does.” His pleading eyes willed the answer he wanted to hear. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“You didn’t let me finish. You were freaking out so much you forgot to get the answer to one of your questions.”

Rick paused a minute, thinking, but he couldn’t remember a damn thing right now. “What?”

With his finger tapping his chin, Matt said, “Hmm, no, I believe it started with can . . .”

“Quit fuckin’ around. Can’t you see I’m about to puke all over you?”

Matt’s chuckling didn’t alleviate the pressure at all, just built it higher. “All right, all right, I’ll tell you. The answer is yes.”

Rick blew out another breath and followed it with a shake of his head. “Remind me why I’m your friend again, because I’ve forgotten you are. I’m gonna prove it when I go sit in the corner. Far away from you.”

“Well that’s gonna be impossible, buddy, because your ass is supposed be in the OR waiting room with Maggie and Kat right now.”

“What?” He bolted out of his seat and threw his hands in the air, slapping them against his hips. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that first?” He turned to get to the swinging doors that led to Cece, but Matt grabbed onto his shoulder, stopping him.

“Calm your ass down, that’s why. You’re not gonna help Maggie like that. I wanted you settled down before you got back there. You’re at your best when you have all the details, or in this case, as many as I could get. So take a couple breaths and get it together. But don’t get all fired up like you’re in a boardroom. Or like you did with that poor receptionist.”

“Poor rec—”

“Do you want to go back there or not?”

Rick narrowed a glare at Matt but did as he said. Several breaths later they both walked toward the entrance to the “private” barred section Rick had been trying to get entrance to for the last hour. Ms. Prune shot him a scowl and flipped in an instant to an all toothy smile for Matt.

“Oh, by the way.” Matt threw an arm over his shoulder, whispering in his ear while they entered the first corridor and were directed to follow the blue footprints to the waiting room. “Congratulations, you’re now engaged. That’s how I got you in. Say thank you.” He relayed the last portion in a high-pitched sing-song.

In a sideways glance shot Matt’s way, he offered him a brief smile—his first one all day. “Thank you.”