Ashton sat back, his face an unreadable mask. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?”
Ashton stood, then turned his attention to the other three men in the room. “It was a pleasure to meet you all and to see you again, Noah. Mr. Stark, all I can say is that you were an experience. I’ll show myself out.”
And then he turned, walked to the double doors, and pulled one open. He disappeared into the waiting area without even a backward glance.
“What the hell was that?” Jackson asked as the door clicked shut.
Preston rose. “I’m going to go after him. See if I can ... I don’t know ... figure out what’s going on, I guess.”
“Suit yourself,” Damien said. “But I don’t think you’ll learn anything. Other than that he really does not want to work with me.”
“What grudge does he have against you?” Preston asked, and Damien shook his head.
He looked to Noah. “This meeting came through you. Did he ever say anything that might explain what happened today?”
Noah shook his head, looking clueless. “He seemed excited to meet you.”
“I have no doubt that he was. He wanted the chance to spit in my face.”
“Yeah, I’ll have to say you’re right on that,” Noah agreed. “But why?”
Damien looked at Jackson who had his head cocked. “You need to call Ryan. Considering everything that’s been going on, he may want to tail this guy.”
Noah and Preston exchanged glances. “I think that’s our cue to leave,” Noah said. “Damien, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m sorry. If there’s anything you need us to do, just let us know.”
“It will be fine. Surreal, but fine.” He shifted his attention to Preston. “I don’t know who you’ve talked about in the department about this meeting, but the official word is that we’re in a wait-and-see mode.”
“Of course. What happened in this room won’t leave it.”
“I know. And thank you.” He watched as Noah and Preston left, then fell back into his seat. “What the hell was that?”
Across from him, Jackson frowned. “You think he’s behind the texts. The video.”
“It makes sense,” Damien said. “But he looked genuinely perplexed.”
Jackson nodded. “I noticed that, too. Like you’d shifted the conversation to a path he didn’t understand. He wasn’t frustrated that you’d called him out on his harassment. Instead, he seemed annoyed that you were turning the tables.”
“Exactly. But he may just be one hell of an actor.”
“I’d believe that,” Jackson said. “But here’s the bigger question. How could he get his hands on the Richter images? For that matter, why would he have gone looking for them in the first place?”
“I haven’t got an answer to any of that,” Damien said. “But I’m damn sure going to start looking.”
12
When the elevator doors open on the top floor of Stark Tower, I find myself looking at Jackson’s face, his expression hard. “What on Earth is the matter?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll let you ask Damien that.”
“Oh, dear.”
Jackson pauses as we pass each other to give me a quick hug, then whispers, “This is all going to be okay. The bottom line is that he’s having a really shitty week.”
I nod, wondering if Damien got the Masque video, too. I hope not, but if he didn’t get it, then what new hell has ruined his day?
With that question lingering in my mind, I return my brother-in-law’s hug, then pass Troy on my way to Damien’s office. “Is he free? Can you buzz me in?”
He already has, and even as I speak, the doors glide open. I shoot Troy a look of gratitude, then step inside to find Damien pacing in front of the wet bar, a drink in hand despite the early hour.
“What’s going on?” I ask him. “I bumped into Jackson, and he looks like he’s on his way back from a funeral.”
“We had that meeting with Ashton Stone.”
“Oh.” I frown. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”
His brows rise, apparently acknowledging that my question is foolish. “Well, he’s still alive,” Damien says drolly.
It’s not the response I’m expecting, and I burst out laughing, grateful when Damien chuckles as well, some of the tension easing from his face.
“Tell me what happened.” I move to the sofa and take a seat. When Damien sits beside me, I shift so that my back is against the armrest, and put my feet in his lap.
“Basically he said he wouldn’t work with me even if he was forced to.” His fingers trace idly up and down my bare calf. “He came to the meeting for the sole purpose of snubbing me.”
“I don’t get it,” I say. “Why would he do that? Does he have some personal grudge?”
“Nothing I can think of. Maybe he’s pitched to the team before. I’ve sent a text to Preston asking him to go back and confirm that we haven’t dealt with Stone’s business in the past. But I know I didn’t deal with the man, so that begs the question of why there’s such vitriol aimed at me.”
He puts the drink down and cups his hands behind his neck. “Maybe I acquired something he wanted. Hell, it could be anything.”
“What about the sponsorship?” I ask, remembering what Damien said the other morning and from the television. “For his racing team. Didn’t he want Stark International to sponsor him?”
Damien nods slowly. “To be honest, I hadn’t thought of it. That was so long ago. It seems petty. I made a business decision.”
“But you told me part of that decision was because Ashton was getting pulled into some scandal. Maybe he thought that was a pot calling the kettle black thing. I mean, you’re the king of scandal.”
“Thank you for your support,” he says, but I hear the humor—and the acknowledgement of truth—in his voice. “You may be right.”
“And it’s all personal,” I add. “Racing is Ashton Stone’s passion. This business is yours.”
“My family is,” Damien counters, and I swallow, seeing the full impact of what he is saying. Because those horrible texts and videos that have been bombarding us are personal, too.
I look up at Damien again. “You think he’s behind the texts? The videos and stuff, I mean?”
He lets his hands rise and fall. “I don’t know. I accused him of it, though, so obviously I think it’s possible. But he looked genuinely clueless. Then again, the man might be one hell of an actor.” He groans and drags his fingers through his hair. “The whole thing’s gotten under my skin.”
“I can tell.”
He manages a half-smile. “You might be surprised to know that I’m never keen on getting the rug pulled out from under me.”
I scoot closer so that my thighs are on his lap and my arms around his neck. “What are you going to do?”
He puts his hand on my thigh and strokes softly, as if the movement is calming him. “I’m going to get more background on Ashton Stone, that’s for damn sure.”