If any of the men took issue with it, I expected them to make it clear. They could tell me to my face, in my home, how exactly they found me unfit to work for the company bearing my name. I’d use the afternoon to remind nearly all the men who had given them their board seat, and tripled shareholder earnings during my tenure as CEO.
This new position didn’t come with much power, yet Royce’s reaction had been tepid when I’d explained it to him. However, that didn’t mean anything. Like me, my son was excellent at guarding his thoughts. He’d been the one to suggest I wine and dine the board before delivering my news, hoping to make it go over easier with them.
“I’m curious of your thoughts,” I said.
Marist’s fingers paused on her queen. “About you returning to HBHC?”
“Royce wasn’t as receptive as I would have liked.”
“Gee, I can’t think why that would be.” Her voice was dry as she pushed Athena forward, trying to bait me to go after her. But doing so would leave my king vulnerable to an attack by her knight in another set of moves. She pinned her stare on me. “What game are you playing? Are you hoping to get back on the board?” Her voice went shallow, like the idea was so distasteful she could barely utter it. “Are you doing it to try to get close to me?”
“No.” The word was forceful enough it disturbed the cat, and its ears went back. “No,” I repeated, calmer. “I’m not playing a game.”
She didn’t believe me. “You’re always playing a game.”
I used my pawn to take her queen in one swift, deliberate action. Marist’s eyes widened as she took in the board, stunned I’d fallen for her simple trap. When excitement flashed through her blue eyes, weakness momentarily took hold. She was so stunningly beautiful, and my son was unworthy to have stolen her heart.
Stop. Enough.
“Check,” she said, quickly moving her knight into position.
I could have attempted to run, but I despised wasting time. The outcome was set. I slid my king over one square, and as soon as I lifted my fingers off the piece, Marist was up out of her seat, eagerly moving her rook into position.
Her word was breathless like she’d run a marathon. “Checkmate.”
I toppled Zeus over and sat back from the board.
The thrilled smile on her lips froze awkwardly, then died as realization dawned in her. “You . . . let me win.”
“Perhaps you give me too much credit.”
She shook her head. “I know you let me win.”
“How is that?”
She sank into her chair, pleased with the result but not that it’d been given to her. “You’re not upset you lost.”
I blinked slowly, not confirming or denying it. The girl was clever, and I turned my gaze toward the black ball of fur that would once again be a resident of my home. “Maybe I’m a different man than I was before.”
“Maybe you are,” she said softly.
The cat sensed I was looking at it and cast its wary eyes on me. It still found me lacking somehow.
Like it didn’t believe I’d changed at all.
THREE
MACALISTER
ROYCE STOOD AT THE BASE OF THE FRONT STEPS outside the house, his brown hair ruffling in the late April wind. The sky was overcast and would be a perfect backdrop for spotting the orange clay discs against, and the wind wasn’t that strong. Unless it picked up, it was unlikely to disrupt our game.
My son looked tired as he waited for our guests to arrive. He had one arm slung around his wife and his hand sliding up and down her sleeve as if to keep her warm. It was brisk, but not intolerable, and her tailored jacket was wool, so I suspected Royce’s gesture was more for my benefit than hers.
He used every opportunity to remind me who she’d chosen.
Lines crinkled at the edge of his eyes. Not with age, as he had just turned twenty-nine—but with exhaustion. The demands our business placed on him would only increase as he climbed in the ranks. I’d done my best to prepare him, or at least what I believed was the best. He’d received far more instruction than I had, but I’d made up for my lack of experience with my drive and determination.
I glanced at the team of staff waiting beside the golf carts to drive my guests down to the field once they’d arrived, and I scowled. The invitation had clearly stated the game was to start at ten. I expected people to be early, and yet no one had arrived.
Royce noticed when I glanced at my watch. “It’s early,” he said.
Annoyance ran through me. “I’m aware.”
“Here comes a car,” Marist said, glancing beyond the fountain at the center of my circle drive and down to the long driveway lined with trees.
A black Bentley prowled toward us, and I straightened my posture. Some of these men I hadn’t seen since my ousting. A lesser man might have been intimidated, but I was not a lesser man. I was eager to put the past behind us and return to the level of respect I’d once commanded.
I was pleased when the car pulled to a stop and Damon Lynch stepped out, followed by his wife Kristin. Damon had been a fiercely loyal ally when I’d been the chairman. He’d voted with me no matter what because he’d understood his role.
When I went away, he never visited, but I didn’t take it as a slight. Partly because we weren’t close friends, but mostly because seven months ago, he’d declared he was running for Congress. It was a smart decision to keep his distance from me until I’d paid my debt.
Damon delivered a practiced smile, and it was nearly convincing. He’d make an excellent politician. He was packaged correctly with wealth, looks, a strong background, and little moral conviction. He shook my hand firmly. “It’s good to see you again, Macalister.”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “I wonder if there’s any space for Vance at your campaign headquarters.”
I didn’t mince words, and when I reinforced my point by not releasing my hold of his hand, the smile faded from the future congressman’s eyes. “Sure.” His voice was less convincing than his smile had been. “We’d love to have him as part of the team.”
“Excellent.” My youngest son hadn’t inherited my head for numbers, but instead his mother’s charm. We’d long discussed Vance’s future in politics, and my aspirations for him reached toward 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Working for Damon’s campaign would be the perfect first step in his career.
More cars arrived, and after Royce and I received them, the board members and their wives were ushered to a golf cart and whisked down the lawn, disappearing behind the stables in the distance.
We were only waiting on Mr. and Mrs. Powell when a silver BMW barreled up the drive and sped around the fountain, braking to a hard stop beside me. Displeasure dug into me, and I seized the passenger door handle to reprimand the driver—
The woman who stepped out of the back seat was dressed head to toe in black. Her long coat was wrapped around her, belted at her narrow waist, and poised over a pair of heeled boots that looked as expensive as they were impractical. The single dark hue of her clothes exaggerated the contrast of her honey-colored hair and ruby lips, but I ignored how striking she was. Exasperation twisted so violently inside my chest it was difficult to find words.