Seated on one of the marble benches in front of the MEEG Building, Saralyn checked the white gold watch Abraham had given her on their twenty-fifth anniversary. She wasn’t surprised that Michael was late. In fact, she’d expected him to pull such an amateurish power play. The kid wasn’t even in her league. So she’d let him think he had the upper hand. Poor boy! She pulled her Kindle out of her purse and resumed reading the latest Kimberla Lawson Roby novel.
“Well, I hope you’ve been waiting a long time,” said Michael Thomas, his tone arrogant.
She looked up from her Kindle. “It was worth the wait.”
Michael sat down on the bench next to her. He eyed her. “I’ll be honest,” he said. “Your call surprised me.”
She clicked off her Kindle and put it back in her purse. “You had to know that sooner or later we’d have a showdown.”
He grinned Abraham’s grin and her stomach roiled.
“Silly me,” he said, each word steeped in sarcasm. “Here I was thinking we’d be part of a happy family, sharing Sunday dinners and spending the holidays together.”
“You’ve got a wicked sense of humor,” she said. “And a vivid imagination. We’ll never share a family dinner.”
He pressed his hand to his chest. “Now you’ve hurt my feelings. I so hoped that I’d lucked out in the stepmother department. It seems I’ve drawn the Wicked Witch of the East instead. Too bad.”
Saralyn bit back a scathing retort. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing his words bothered her. “You’ve missed your calling, Michael,” she said. “You could give Steve Hardy a run for his money. Have you ever considered stand-up?”
Michael rubbed his chin as though he were considering her career suggestion. “You know, you may be onto something. I don’t think I’d like stand-up but I think I’d do well with a radio show like Steve’s.” He framed his hands around an imaginary marquee. “I can see it now, ‘The Michael Thomas Morning Show.’” He turned to her. “Think I could talk the old man into buying a radio station for me?”
“When hell freezes over,” she said, before she caught herself.
Michael laughed, taking satisfaction in her slip. “I wouldn’t be too sure. He bought my sister, his only daughter, a production company. As his son, I deserve something equivalent if not more.”
Over my dead body. “Personally,” she said, “a man like you shouldn’t need anyone to give him a business. A real man would want to build his own business.”
Michael raised a brow. “You mean the way your son, the most manly Isaac, built his ‘own’ business?”
He’s such an ungrateful brat. “Enough of these insults. Why don’t we get down to business?”
Michael shrugged and then leaned back, stretching out this legs, the portrait of aloofness. “You called me,” he reminded her. “It’s your meeting, so handle your business. What do you want?”
She itched to wipe that smirk off his face. “I want to know what you want from me and my family.”
“Simple,” he said. “I want what’s mine as Abraham’s son.”
Now she laughed. “Come again?” she said. “Abraham has one son, one heir. That won’t change. I can guarantee it.” Then she added, “I’m a reasonable woman. I’m willing to provide you and your sister a lump sum payment of one million dollars.”
His eyes widened with interest. “Each?”
She nodded, feeling pretty confident the figure would sway the boy, since she knew it was more money than he’d ever seen. That company of his was doing well—she’d checked—but not that well. He was no Jay-Z. “Take the money,” she said. “It’s more than you deserve.”
Still reclining, Michael folded his hands across his stomach. “How much is MEEG worth?” he asked.
Saralyn sensed he knew the answer to that question. “MEEG is of no concern to you. It belongs to me as much as it does to Abraham.”
Michael laughed. “You must think I’m stupid, lady. I probably know more about MEEG’s finances than you do, and I certainly know what it’s worth. If I didn’t, your two million dollar offer would give me a good idea. Why should I take pennies from you when I’m entitled to more from the old man?”
Saralyn crossed her legs. She’d expected this response. “The old saying, ‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,’ applies here. I can have your check tomorrow. Take it. I promise you that I’ll tie you up in court for years if Abraham tries to give you any part of my son’s inheritance.”
“Little Isaac has his mom fighting his battles. How manly of him.”
Saralyn refused to be baited. “I’m waiting for your answer.”
Michael eyed her. “Does the old man know you’re here?”
“Does it matter? The check will clear either way.”
She could tell he was thinking about it. She knew money would do it. Leah might have ridden in on a high horse saddled with her recently acquired morals, but not this wannabe. He was probably already spending the money. He’d probably plow through it in less than a year.
“What do you want in exchange for this payoff?” he asked.
“I want you, your sister, and your mother out of MEEG and out of our lives.”
He eyed her. “My sister is not going to want to give up her production company.”
“She’ll have a million dollars. She can start her own company. But that’s your problem, not mine. I give you the money. You and your family vanish. It’s simple.”
“You’d trust me?”
Now she laughed. “Please. I’m not a fool. When you get the check, you’ll sign a contract releasing all rights to Abraham’s estate. And you’ll have to get your sister to sign as well.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“I’m not here playing games, Michael. My family was doing fine before all of this exploded. I want things back the way they were.”
“Abraham’s not going to like it.”
“He’ll get over it. I’ll be sure to let him know about the check, and then I’ll convince him that all any of you ever wanted from him was money. He’ll get over you.”
“You can’t be sure.”
“Look,” Saralyn said, growing tired of the conversation. “Abraham is really no concern of yours. Do you want the check or not?”
Michael met her eyes. “Make it two million each and you’ve got a deal.”