Chapter Three

 

 

 

Ian Hutchinson—Steven, as far as Nicole knew—stared at the papers in front of him. The lies were over. Soon his wife would learn the truth—that not only was he not Steven, but that he’d lied to her about everything from the beginning. Everything except loving her. The fake cheating, the fake name, the fake career, life, everything except she owned his heart and soul.

The knowledge should make the papers he held less painful. Should being the key word.

Nicole’s name was scrawled elegantly along the lines, ending their marriage. There wasn’t any hesitancy in her signature. He picked up the file and ripped it in two, then ripped it again and again until it was small, useless pieces that fluttered to the floor.

“It has to be this way, bro.”

He turned and stared at Daren Scott, seeing him but not seeing him. “She’s still my wife.”

“I know that. We all know that. You’ll get to marry her again, under your own name now, huh? Keep that in mind and that we need this to get to him.”

Ian breathed in deeply through his nose. The sharp scent of metal and gunpowder filled his senses, washing away the scent of Nicole’s pain. I hurt her. She believed those pictures. I swore my life to her and she didn’t even fight for me. She didn’t rage at me or slap me. She believed I’d hurt her. My girl. My girl believed I would let another touch me. The pain of that threatened to drive him insane. He’d had to drink himself drunk the previous night to get rid of the urge to go to her and take her until she knew no one—no one—ever would touch him but her.

“She’ll understand”—Dare tapped away at his keyboard. The ordinary sound made Ian want to do murder—“if you don’t screw up. And if you do? Well, you can always kidnap her until she listens. She’s reasonable.”

He shot Dare a scowl for that, but the man was focused on his machines. The monitors showed every inch of her corporation and, more importantly, the areas where they thought Devon Blackmore had her people bugged. They’d fed the right information to Devon, hoping he’d follow it. Now all they had to do was wait. If he took the bait and followed Nicole to the island, they’d have him. If he didn’t…they’d deal with that when it happened. If it happened.

Either way, Ian would be there on the island. I’ll be waiting on her, and when I see her, I’ll come clean. I’ll explain everything. He’d already told the team this charade was over. That was one reason Dare was here. The team had thought that by sending in Daren Scott, Ian’s oldest friend, he’d be convinced to keep up the undercover game.

Not a chance in hell.

Ian didn’t give a shit if Commander Rider—one of the best commanders the Navy had ever produced—had sent Dare to explain Devon’s supposed connection to the Sentinel Program. It didn’t matter to Ian. The Sentinel Program was dead in the water. He’d heard how it had impacted soldiers. It had been no surprise to him. The drug had been leaked. Now some quack was modifying it to use as a sex drug. It was also no surprise that Devon was in the middle of supposedly getting rights to distribute all along the East coast.

“If we catch him, we might be able to stem the supply.” Dare stretched and gave Ian a hard look. “Believe me. We want to stem it. It makes date rape drugs look like Kool-Aid.”

Ian snorted, but Dare would know. He was married to the woman whose father had created the Sentinel drug. It still didn’t sway him. The drug would have to wait. Devon would have to wait. Nicole never would again. “If this doesn’t work, I’m out. I fix things with Nicole, secure her, then I can do whatever the hell Rider wants, but until I do, until I know Nicole understands all this… Shit, I’m of no use.”

Dare rubbed his face. “I’m doubtful you’re of use now, man.”

“I am. That’s my wife we’re dangling out there like a worm on a hook! If it was—”

“I’d have to kill someone if it was my wife. It’s not. But I will do all I can. Hell, we all will do all we can to protect her. No one will get their hands on her.”

Ian stalked to the window, too angry to stand around and talk about shit he couldn’t control.

Daren went on. “This drug is bad news. Real bad news. How do you think my wife feels about that? This was her dad’s doing. Whether he designed this date-rape shit or not, he still began the work on the drug that they’re using. It’s tearing Kylie up, man.”

Ian nodded. He’d heard all about it, but he’d also heard how Kylie’s dad had been after a cure for something much closer to home—cancer, something that had taken his wife away when his daughter had only been a small child.

Kylie Chung, Dare’s wife, walked in then. She had a pile of files—more data, no doubt—and smiled over at him, but her mind was clearly already on her husband. She dropped her files on the table and the couple shared a kiss. Ian tried not to be jealous. He’d gone months without touching Nicole as he set up the charade, without kissing her or taking her small hand in his.

“This should keep us busy.” Kylie spoke softly but there was a gentle accent to her words, reminding him that she’d been raised all over the world, much like Nicole.

“What’s in the files?” Dare picked one up and grimaced. “Devon’s bank accounts?”

“It might show an increase in his income. If he has the drug…” Kylie shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“If Devon’s in this,” Ian muttered, “he doesn’t realize the potential, or that drug would be all over the city.”

“He’s a dumbass, but that helps out, right?” Dare shot him a grin but sobered when Ian didn’t share the joke. “Man, it’s clear you love her. She’s your woman. I get it. But if I had to hurt Kylie for a little while to save her life? I’d do it, no questions asked.”

Kylie turned her head, focused on Dare then over to Ian. “I would be upset, possibly murderous, if I thought he’d cheated on me. But knowing Daren, he would explain, maybe he would have to hold me down and chain me up to get me to listen,” she offered with a small smile, “but I would…eventually. I love him. She loves you, and because of that, she will listen, even if she hates herself for doing it.”

“Uh, that could have been left off,” Dare teased, tugging her closer.

Ian barely noticed. He gripped the desk so hard that it could have dented the wood.

“I mean hates herself for a while, until you explain,” Kylie clarified with a nervous glance from him to her husband.

“If I explain, prove those pictures are fake, then she’ll—”

“Forgive you.” She nodded with a great more surety than Ian felt. “Yes. I believe so.”

Ian took a deep breath. Then, when it didn’t help, took another. Kylie was a woman. He had to trust her on this. He’d been trusting them all on this. But inside, where his heart belonged to his wife, he felt as if this was wrong—all wrong. Completely and utterly fuck all as his friends at Interpol liked to say.

“Hold it together.” Dare’s tone reminded Ian of all the missions they’d survived. “A few more hours and you’ll have her back—no more lies, no more undercover. Think on that and focus on getting this bastard.”

“I am. We end this threat.”

Kylie paused from where she’d been pulling herself off Dare’s lap. Ian saw it, but he didn’t glance away from Dare, not until he gave a sharp nod.

“We end the threat.”

 

* * * *

 

Nicole held her tea cup balanced in her hand without spilling a drop. Considering her nerves, it was an accomplishment. The tea room was filled to capacity today, and thankfully, because it was, she’d earned herself a tiny bit of space by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Here, among the most powerful, she could step back and observe it all, as she often did. Today she gazed out at the city and wished with all her heart that she could speed up time, so all of this would be behind her. No such power existed, though. She’d learned that long ago.

“Mrs. Masterson, the board has been assembled.”

Joseph cleared his throat at her elbow when she didn’t immediately turn. It’s time to see if I have the courage to do this. “Thank you, Joseph,” Nicole murmured, stiffening her resolve. I might not have enough, but I have the guts. My father always said I had more guts than good sense.

“I’ve also confirmed your flight. Everything is all set,” Joseph added.

She nodded but her mouth dried out and her heartbeat increased much too quickly as the reality of this day hit harder than ever. She took another sip of the chamomile tea and reined in her nerves. Several deep breaths later, she found her balance. The biggest battle with performing to a crowd—and this meeting would be an Oscar-worthy performance—was keeping a balance. If she could maintain her poise, she could say anything, to anyone. Ice. I need to keep the ice for a little longer.

Richard Blake walked up, a smile on his face. “It’s a fine time for our annual review, Mrs. Masterson.” At nearly, if not exactly, seventy years old, he looked no worse, or better, than he had all her life. “Christmas bonuses have gone out, and everyone is in fine spirits.”

Mr. Blake was her father’s man, a staunch supporter of her company and someone she valued alongside Cynthia. She would miss him, she realized, with a suddenness that surprised her. Of the twelve board members, he was the only one she thought might be trustworthy…to a point. Money spoke louder than any loyalty. Her father had taught her that in her first year at boarding school. Recalling that lesson stiffened her spine for the ordeal ahead of her, not that she should need it. The people who had betrayed her hadn’t earned her respect or her loyalty. They would be dismissed like Steven and so many others who had tried to fool an Andros.

“It’s Ms. Andros now, Mr. Blake.”

Richard raised his bushy white eyebrows at her words but didn’t ask for details. His deeply lined face expressed concern before he shifted his gaze to the door and back to her with shrewd calculation in his eyes.

“I see. So, this is a day of change.”

She nodded once, sharply. He knew her father’s methods for change. He also knew she followed in her father’s footsteps.

Change was swift and complete, without reservation or regret.

They entered the long, elegant boardroom together, and he held out her chair for her to sit before taking his on her left. Glass windows faced her, lining the far side of the room from floor to ceiling in a dazzling display of Manhattan.

The room was large enough for the board to sit at the table with space at the end of the room to arrange several leather sofas in a U-shape. Her father had always maintained that more could be decided in a quiet conversation with the right people than in hours of work with the board.

As she adjusted her clothing and accepted a glass of water with lemon from Joseph, the room grew quiet. In front of everyone, Joseph and his two assistants were setting down the documents of the day. Mr. Philips, Mr. Donahue and Mrs. Wright were sitting separately from each other, elegantly dressed as always, but pale and decidedly unhappy to be there. She could almost sense a buffer between them and the people seated nearby.

“Today I would like to begin by expressing my gratitude for your presence so close to the holidays. Each of us has our plans for Christmas, but before we begin this New Year, I wanted to bring this past year into focus. To do this, a few changes have been made, based on the detailed reports I have provided. Please open to page two and take a moment to review the data.”

Before she’d even finished her sentence, Mr. Philips shoved his chair backward and stood. His neatly combed brown hair fell forward over his brow as he ranted, “This is outrageous. This is not data. It’s a witch hunt! A scapegoat for this company falling under hard times! I demand a more—”

“Mr. Philips, please sit down,” Mr. Blake began.

Mrs. Wright interrupted him by laughing, sounding hysterical. “Sit down? Sit down when we are being accused of such outlandish and insane actions? I, for one, have had enough of how this corporation has been ignored and used as a vehicle to provide entertainment for Ms. Andros during her personal disappointments. This—”

“Mrs. Wright!” Julia Deupree gasped. “Of all the uncaring and completely unfounded things to say. Ms. Andros, none of us here believe that this file, which has obviously been worked on for well over six months, has anything to do with your recent marital issues. If what this report claims is true—”

“Of course, it’s not true, you stupid cow!” Mrs. Wright scoffed. “I own more than seventeen percent of this corporation. I will not be treated in such a manner.”

“But you would treat others like this. Is that it?” Mr. Jones asked, next to Julia. “Julia is right. This has nothing to do with personal issues and all to do with whether this is true.” He lifted the report and shook it at Mrs. Wright. “If it is, you’re looking at jail time and the loss of your stocks.”

Mr. Donahue slammed his hand on the table and opened his mouth.

Nicole stood. Immediately the room quieted. Mr. Donahue’s face turned a dark red, his drinking no doubt catching up to him, but he remained silent.

“Mr. Philips, you, Mr. Donahue and Mrs. Wright have waived your rights to speak at this meeting. I asked you to be present out of courtesy. You are, as of yesterday at ten p.m. Eastern time, without stock in this company.”

Gasps sounded around the table and all three individuals turned paler.

“Anyone found guilty of siphoning funds waives their rights to stock. This is outlined on page thirty-six C and ninety-seven D, E and F of your contracts. We do not need to wait for a court to decide on this matter. This, too, is detailed in your contracts. I suggest you read them before you file a protest. As majority, I regain your stock.”

She let that settle so everyone could do the math. She was now well beyond majority leader with enough power to replace every single person present—or take over the board and dismiss them all from the decision-making.

“Do not misunderstand me. All three of you are being charged with illegal trade, siphoning funds into offshore accounts to the amount of thirteen trillion US dollars and utilizing company property inappropriately.”

She paused, sat back down then sipped her tea. The room remained so focused on her that she had to breathe gently to keep her voice steady and her hands from trembling. “As you can see by the report, the amount may change as more data is brought in, but I felt now, rather than later, when you three could have bankrupted this corporation, to be a beneficial time to press charges and, of course, have you removed from your positions.”

“Good God, listen to yourself. Thirteen trillion dollars!” Mrs. Wright spoke shrilly, holding her neck as if she were on stage. In her late forties and trying her best to remain twenty-something, Mrs. Wright fought tooth and nail to keep herself slim, up to date on all the latest fashions and, most of all, beautiful. All she’d managed to do was appear overblown and outlandish in a company that prided itself on elegance.

“Yes, I was astonished at the forty million, but when you and Mr. Donahue decided to quadruple your take and leave Mr. Philips out of the deal, I thought it best to end your fun before it really got started.”

Mr. Philips turned on both of his co-conspirators. “You did what?”

“We did not!” Mrs. Wright cried.

Mr. Donahue took a step toward her. “My God, you little bitch!”

Both security guards moved forward into her line of sight.

“Mr. Donahue! Let me remind you that you are under investigation here,” Mr. Blake stated, slamming his hand down on the table.

The board room turned to chaos.

She let it run its course until Mrs. Wright was pointing her finger at Mrs. Stanford and Mr. James, both veterans of the company.

“Enough.” Nicole stood once more. The room stilled as if she’d shouted. She leaned forward and placed her hands, palms flat, on the table. “I am not blind, nor am I incapable of running this empire. I now am in possession of eighty-nine and a half shares. Do not tempt me to clear this board and replace it with one better suited for this century. Mr. Philips, Mr. Donahue, Mrs. Wright, these gentlemen will see you downstairs where officers are waiting for you.”

“You little bitch. You’ve never done a thing for this company, never done a day’s worth of work and now you want to see if you can handle the reins?” Mrs. Wright snarled. “You wouldn’t know a good stock from a good nail polish.”

Nicole smiled and gestured for security to take them away. Very soon she’d be out of this room, away from New York and on a plane. Until then, she had to keep up the charade.

“And on that note”—she laughed quietly because this would be her last board meeting, ever—“we will discuss the next few items you will find on pages twenty-eight, twenty-nine and thirty.”