She opened her mouth to argue, but what was the point? In truth, having someone watch
her back as she left the apartment wasn’t a bad thing. The D-Towners were probably
just trying to scare her, but she also knew they were capable of a lot worse than
that, so she wasn’t going to take any chances. “Thanks. Guess you probably shouldn’t
have stuck around for that muffin today. You’d be tucked safely in your office by
now none the wiser, making people their millions.”
He shook his head. “Best decision I’ve made in a long time. The millions will still
be there tomorrow.”
And now, because of him, she would still be around, too. “Thank you, Wyatt. Really.
I’m so—”
He held up a hand. “If you apologize one more time for something that is absolutely
not your fault, you’re going to see my mean side.”
The threat shouldn’t have sent a hot shiver through her, but it did. The image of
the quietly intense executive losing some of that nothing-phases-me exterior called
to her in a way she couldn’t even define. The feeling was foreign, frightening. The
fact that he’d shut down the possibility of them sleeping together was probably a
very, very good thing, even if her hormones hadn’t quite jumped on board with that
plan yet. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be here.” Wyatt sat down on her loveseat, pulled out his cell phone, and started
scanning through emails as if he’d wait forever if that was how long she needed.
She stood there watching him for a few moments longer than necessary, knowing that
this would probably be the last time she’d have him this close. Sure, she’d be able
to hide out for a few weeks, but this wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. She’d
thought she’d escaped undetected the last time, but clearly they’d discovered the
role she’d played in Raymond Miller’s downfall. And if D-Town was determined to hurt
her, she wasn’t going to be safe anywhere near their territory.
She let out a long breath and turned her back, heading toward her bedroom. Wyatt didn’t
know it, but their fictional love affair was about to come to a quick and quiet end.
Because she was going to have to leave her life here in Dallas.
And leave him.
THREE
Wy
att leaned back in his desk chair, scanning the report
on his computer screen and only half-listening to his father prattle on. Wyatt didn’t
have the patience for a Bill Austin lecture on a good day, much less this morning.
After showing up at the Sugarcane Cafe for the second week in a row to find no Kelsey,
Wyatt had left with heartburn and a bloodstream full of frustration.
Her co-worker, Nathan, had been like a fucking Navy SEAL with his ability to withstand
interrogation. Wyatt had prodded the guy up one way and down the other trying to get
information about Kelsey, even offering to pay Nathan for the information. But all
the cook would reveal was that she was safe and that he didn’t know where she was,
which was bullshit of course. That kid knew exactly where she was.
He admired the guy for being protective of his friend, but the not knowing was like
a thorn burrowing into Wyatt’s brain. The whole situation was out of his control and
that was completely unacceptable. He hadn’t been able to concentrate for shit since
he’d last seen her. He’d even driven by her sister’s house like some lame stalker
to see if her car was there. It wasn’t. And when he’d knocked on the door to the house,
no one had been home.
Then this morning he’d come in to find a message from the cop who’d handled the alley
incident, letting Wyatt know that the asshole had made bail. Kelsey’s attacker was
out there, roaming the streets like nothing had fucking happened. Our brilliant legal
system at its best.
“Wyatt, you were supposed to handle this,” his father barked. “You can’t just say
no to big-time clients because you feel like it.”
He huffed his annoyance. “I was busy this weekend. And I don’t eat deer, so why would
I waste time shooting one?”
His father made that frustrated noise of his, like the hiss of trapped steam leaking
out of a pipe. “Wyatt, you—it isn’t about the deer. You know that.”
Wyatt minimized the screen and turned toward his father, bored with this conversation
already. He had bigger things to worry about than some self-important client getting
his pride hurt over a declined invitation. “I bet the deer would beg to differ.”
His dad’s palm landed on top of the desk, a soft smack but pointed nonetheless. “This
isn’t a joke.”
Wyatt closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “Didn’t
say it was.”
His father tugged at his necktie and tightened it again, obviously trying to regain
his trademark Bill Austin composure. “Dirk Billings wants to trust the guy handling
his fortune. He wants to feel connected to him. Like buddies.”
“And sitting for hours in a wooden box with guns and cheap beer to shoot something
I don’t even eat is going to accomplish this?” Wyatt shook his head and straightened
the papers on his desk. “If he wants trust, he needs to look at my record and talk
to my other clients. If he wants to feel connected, I’m more than happy to schedule
regular phone calls or meetings to go over his portfolio. I spent last weekend analyzing
the numbers from last quarter. We have some quirks in there that don’t make sense.
That’s what I needed to spend my time on. Not hanging out in the woods doing tick
checks with a windbag.”
The thought of being caught in a deer stand, making chitchat with a guy who thought
the South should’ve won, was Wyatt’s personal version of hell. He’d end up turning
the gun on his client instead of the wildlife. That wouldn’t be good for the company
image.
His father’s skin went ruddy, his hold on his anger obviously dwindling. “Ignoring
this part of the business is not going to work anymore, son. Merrill and Mead are
giving that level of personal service to their clients. They’re stealing them away
from us with good ol’ boy wining and dining. Or golfing and hunting as the case may
be. Those imbeciles don’t have anything on you when it comes to the financials, but
if you don’t learn how to play the nicey-nice game, we’re going to keep losing big
fish. You want that jerk you graduated with to woo away all of our clients?”
Wyatt’s jaw clenched at that thought. Tony Merrill had been an arrogant prick in graduate
school, and time had only seemed to enhance those attributes. Wyatt had received a
jovial email a few months earlier from Tony thanking him for sending over one of his
best clients.
Jerkoff
. “When their net worth starts going down because Tony doesn’t know his ass from an
alligator, they’ll return.”
“They’re not coming back, Wyatt,” his father said quietly. Too quietly. Wyatt had
feared that lethal tone when he was a kid. It usually meant fire and brimstone were
coming.
“Don’t panic, Dad.” Wyatt turned back to his computer to click open the next page
in the report. “You’ve got the Carmichael retreat at the end of the month. And you
always come back with new clients from that. You handle the ass kissing and spouse
charming, and I’ll keep their business here with the results I can get them.”
His father shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “I’m not going to be able to
attend the retreat this year.”
Wyatt’s hand stilled against his mouse, and he spun his chair back toward his father.
That retreat was a must. Business leaders killed to get invitations to the exclusive
trip put on each year by real estate tycoon Edward Carmichael. On the surface, it
was billed as a relax and unwind trip for executives and their spouses. But that casual,
guards-down atmosphere was where deals were made and partnerships were formed. “What
are you talking about? That retreat was responsible for three of our biggest new clients
last year.”
“Your mother has threatened divorce. So we’re going to a thing,” he said, giving a
near imperceptible shrug.
Wyatt stared at him, the words not quite making sense at first. Divorce? His parents
had never had what anyone would call a loving relationship. His dad wasn’t an easy
man to live with and had cheated more than once. But he and his mom had always seemed
to have a mutual agreement to stay together—like a polite business arrangement. “A
thing?”
“Some counseling vacation.” He scoffed and tightened his tie again. “As if that could
be called a vacation. All that touchy-feely hippie bullshit. But she’s going to leave
me if I don’t go with her.”
“Jesus, Dad.”
His father waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t start the pity party. It’ll be fine. I
think your mother just had some white light moment when she had that heart attack
and is getting loopy on me. We’ll do this, I’ll buy her something nice, and we’ll
move on. We always do.”
Not with that attitude
. But Wyatt kept the comment to himself. If his mom wanted to make a run at a happier
life, he wasn’t going to begrudge her that.
“Which is why I’m going to need you to handle the retreat and
not
fuck it up.”
Wyatt was still reeling from the previous news, but of course his father wasn’t going
to linger on anything non-business related for long. “Me? I can’t go on the retreat.
Who’s going to handle things here why you’re out? I’ll just cancel it this year. Carmichael
will understand.”
A muscle twitched in his father’s jowl. “No. He won’t. We’ll be cut right off the
guest list for the future. I’ve been working on getting that family’s accounts for
years and I’m this close. One rebuff and it’s gone. Plus, Tony Merrill will be there.
If we cancel, we may as well hand our clients over to him with a bow around their
necks.”
Wyatt leaned back in his chair, rubbing his head, the thought of attending a Carmichael
retreat curling dread in his stomach. Wyatt had never been, but he knew it wasn’t
anything like the business conferences he attended. This was a schmoozing trip. No
workshops, no meetings, it was all about rubbing elbows and kissing ass.
And Wyatt didn’t kiss ass.
“I’m not going on some trip to tell people how fucking fantastic they are. I’m not
a salesman.”
“You will, and you better become one fast.” His dad pinned Wyatt with a hard look.
“You are supposed to step into my shoes when I retire. But if I dropped dead tomorrow,
you’d be woefully unequipped.”
Wyatt could only stare back at him. “
Unequipped
? What with the doctorate, the decade of experience, and a record that could lap anyone
else here?”
“If this business was one hundred percent numbers, no one could even attempt to challenge
you. Not even me. You’re brilliant, Wyatt. But half the job of being a CEO is selling
yourself, the image of the company, and generating new business. It’s politics. For
people to trust you with their money, they have to want to work with you, to
like
you.”
Wyatt clenched his teeth, having flashbacks from his high school years. He’d won a
lot of awards, but the popularity contest was one he’d never had a shot in.
“You need to show me you’re capable with this part of the business. Otherwise, you’re
starting to make me wonder if you’re the right person to take over the top spot when
I step down.”
Wyatt’s fingers dug into the arms of his chair, cool steel in his voice. “Excuse me?”
That position had been decided since Wyatt’s first IQ test in grade school. Like an
Olympic athlete, his whole life had centered around getting groomed and trained for
this role, especially after his father had realized that his other son, Jace, had
absolutely no interest in taking over the family business.
Wyatt thought of all the things he’d turned down, walked away from, or not tried because
he was on this path. Because he was the “good” son, the heir apparent. All the hours
and blood and sweat he put into this company. Now that role was up the air?
“My first responsibility is to this company,” his father said curtly. “You know I’ve
never given you anything simply because we share DNA. You’ve earned everything you’ve
gotten so far. But now you need to earn this. If I don’t think you’re the best candidate,
I won’t hesitate to give it to someone else. Eric has been in line for it for years
and has as much experience as you do.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Look at my face,” his dad said, using the same words he used to say to Wyatt when
he was a child. “Does this look like my kidding face?”
Wyatt made a sound of disgust. “You’re a cold-hearted sonofabitch sometimes.”
“I am. That’s what gives me my edge, son. If I made decisions based on emotions, you’d
have grown up in some shithole in the suburbs. This is a weakness of yours, and my
future CEO can’t afford weaknesses.”
“I got it,” he snapped, bitterness leaking into his words.
“Good.” His father pulled a paper from the inner pocket of his jacket and laid it
on Wyatt’s desk. “That’s a list of people going whose business we want to acquire.
Do whatever it takes to get them.”
Wyatt unfolded the paper and scanned the neat list of typed names. Some of the biggest
players out there were listed of course. His father always aimed for the outfield.
But Wyatt’s gaze snagged on the name at the bottom of the page. “You’ve got to be
fucking kidding me.
Andrew
Carmichael? If you think I’m going to go kiss Andrew’s ass, you have an—”
“He’s the biggest fish on that list now. Ed’s health has been in the shitter lately,
and he’s handed over lots of responsibility to Andrew, including this year’s retreat.
Retirement is probably inevitable within the year. So you need to work the son. And
you two used to be friends. Use that.” His father straightened his coat.
“Friends? That’s quite a revisionist history there, Dad.” The guy had made grade school
painful and high school a fucking nightmare.
“Come on. You can’t still be hung up on stuff that happened so long ago. So he liked
to pick on you. He was just threatened because you were smarter than him and got more
attention.”
Wyatt gritted his teeth. Childhood teasing he could’ve forgiven, but Andrew had upped
the ante when they hit high school. When Wyatt had been chosen for a prestigious scholarship
over Andrew, the bastard had retaliated by getting Wyatt’s longtime girlfriend tipsy
at an after-prom party and then fucking away her virginity on Wyatt’s bed, making
sure Wyatt walked in at just the right moment. Wyatt’s one and only fist fight had
ended with a naked Andrew knocked out in the middle of the hallway.
“I want him on our roster.”
“There are other big players we can go after. We don’t need him.”
“We do and you’re going to get him.” His father stood and pulled out an envelope.
He dropped it onto the desk. “Nancy in travel has already changed mine and your mother’s
reservations into your name. You need to let Nancy know who you’re bringing with you.”
Wyatt picked up the envelope and looked at his father. “Who I’m bringing?”
“This is a plus-one trip. Most of the events are for couples, so don’t be the asshole
who shows up solo. And for God’s sake, don’t bring that woman you brought to the charity
ball. She had about as much personality as a shoehorn. You need someone who isn’t
going to be afraid to mingle and flirt. The prettier your date, the more the other
guys will be interested in hanging around you two.”
Oh, this was getting better and better. What was he supposed to do, call up the rent-a-girlfriend-for-a-week
service? He worked fifteen-hour days and most weekends. Like he’d told Kelsey, dating
didn’t exactly fit into that schedule. He’d had a colleagues-with-benefits thing going
for a while with a woman who worked in the building next door, but they’d stopped
their Saturday night meet-ups a while back when she’d decided she needed more and
had laid out an ultimatum for him. He didn’t do ultimatums.
But regardless of his father’s opinion, he would’ve been faced with the issue anyway.
Because there was no way he was going to show up to this thing and face Andrew without
some knockout on his arm. It was petty, but he didn’t fucking care. “I’ll figure it
out.”
“That’s what I want to hear. Get to planning, son. You leave in a week.” And with
that, his father headed out of Wyatt’s office, riding that high horse he so loved
to be on.