The bed is empty when I wake. Vaughn’s left a note scribbled on the pillow.
Gone for a run.
I put it down slowly and take a breath, glad of the moment alone. Having Vaughn with me 24/7 is an overwhelming experience, especially with the intense sexual chemistry blazing between us. Part of me is glad to have the back-up and feel like I’m not all alone in this, but part of me needs a moment to get my head together, and focus on the massive task ahead of me -- without Vaughn’s tempting distractions.
Today, I’m going into the city to visit Ashcroft Industry’s headquarters and meet the main management staff. I dress carefully, in a business-like pencil skirt, and crisp tailored blouse. It’s the most appropriate outfit I have, but still, when I look in the mirror, I feel like they’ll see through me in an instant.
What are you doing? My doubts surface. Brent was right. You’ve never studied business in your life before. How can you run a huge corporation?
I force myself to stay calm and remember what I told the investors last night. I don’t have to run it: I just need to find the right people and trust them to continue their good work.
Ashcroft entrusted his legacy to me, and I can’t let him down.
I have time to kill before the car collects me, and my stomach is rumbling. I barely touched my dinner last night, I was too busy trying to keep it together during my interrogation, so I go downstairs in search of the kitchen.
I didn’t get a chance to explore the house yesterday, and now I take my time, lingering in the long hallways, and peeking into a never-ending series of grand rooms. The decor is traditional, full of old antiques and heavy brocade curtains. I wonder if they’re heirlooms like that bracelet Ashcroft tried to give me: history from a family I never knew existed.
I realize how little I know about Ashcroft and his life. Until recently, he was just an eccentric client to me. I listened to his stories with amusement, but the details didn’t register with me. I feel a pang at the missed opportunity to get to know him.
Now, it’s too late.
After wandering the house for a while, I find the kitchen: a huge, cozy space with bright yellow tile and a big farmhouse table set with fresh pastries and juice. I make a beeline for the plate of muffins when I see Isabelle curled up, half-hidden in the nook. She’s wrapped in a silk robe, sipping espresso from a tiny china cup.
“Hi.” I pause, awkward. “How’s it going?”
Isabella stares back at me coolly. Without her makeup on and fashionable clothes, she looks younger, almost vulnerable. But the icy expression is still fixed in place on her beautiful face. “Fine, thank you,” she answers politely. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, great.” I hesitate another moment, then take a seat with her at the table and start filling a plate. “This looks amazing. Did you do it?”
Isabelle curls her lip in amusement. “No, the cook sets it out in the morning. I don’t know why. Brent never eats, and Riley’s already gone.”
“Gone where?” I ask curiously.
She shrugs. “I never know. He does his own thing. Our father was the only one who ate a real breakfast.”
Isabelle looks down, and I see the sadness in her eyes. The Ashcroft siblings may not be relatives by blood, but they were his children too -- they spent most of their lives with Ashcroft.
“I didn’t have a chance to say, but I’m really sorry for your loss,” I tell her quietly. “I didn’t know him very well, but I could tell he was a great guy.”
Isabelle looks surprised. “He was,” she says, softening. “There’s nobody like him in the world.”
We sit silently for a moment, and I feel a rush of warmth for this girl. I was an only child, and always wanted siblings. I realize for the first time that Isabelle, Riley, and even Brent are connected to me too now. I’m not so naive to think we will all bond overnight, but maybe, in time...
“What are you doing?” Brent’s voice snaps through my thoughts. I freeze, a muffin halfway to my mouth, before I realize his anger is directed at Isabelle.
“Nothing,” she says quickly, looking down. “Just, she came in...”
“We talked about this,” Brent hisses. “And here you are, going behind my back.”
Isabelle seems to crumble right in front of me. “I know, I’m sorry.” She looks nervous, getting to her feet and scurrying towards the door.
“We were just having breakfast,” I speak up, confused by Brent’s anger.
His eyes flick back towards me. “The car is here,” he says shortly. “Are you ready? You have a busy schedule. You can’t be late.”
“Of course.” I grab my plate and a glass of juice. I can eat in the car. “It was nice talking to you, Isabelle,” I add as I pass.
She looks down at the floor, shoulders tense, and obediently waits for Brent to leave before she follows him out.
Weird.
I don’t have time to think about the strange scene with Brent and Isabelle for long. As soon as I get in the limo, I tap a quick text to Vaughn to meet me later, and then dive into the first of a dozen thick reports on Ashcroft Industries. I read as quickly as I can for the drive into New York, but by the time we draw up outside a towering skyscraper in Midtown, I’ve still barely got my head around the company.
“Right this way, Miss Ashcroft.” A perky secretary greets me in the lobby, ushering me past security to a glass elevator.
“It’s Fawes. My name,” I add awkwardly. “I was never an Ashcroft.”
“Of course.” The secretary gets out a palm pilot device, and I swear she’s sending out a memo about my name even as we speak. “Everyone’s excited to meet you.”
I think she’s just exaggerating, but when the elevator doors open on the thirty-fifth floor, she hasn’t lied. People are lined up in the hallway to greet me, a blur of faces all shaking my hand and welcoming me to the company.
“Thank you,” I mumble, my head already spinning. “It’s great to meet you too.”
“We’re like a big family here,” the secretary explains. “If Ashcroft trusted you to take the reins, then that means we’re all happy to have you.”
Not everyone.
As we make our way across the office floor, I notice a few people hanging back, scowling in my direction. I remember that Brent has been a part of the company for years, and has probably built up his own loyal following too. No matter what the secretary says, I’m sure there are plenty of people just waiting to see me fail.
I don’t know yet who I can trust.
“I’ll leave you with Cameron McCullogh.”
I’m deposited in an impressive corner office, decorated with modern glass and chrome furniture, and with drop-dead gorgeous views of the city.
“A pleasure to meet you, Keely.”
I turn. A handsome man in his thirties gets up from behind the desk, and comes to shake my hand.
“Mr...” My mind is already blank, but the man just flashes an easy smile.
“Call me Cam. I was Ashcroft’s second-in-command here. Did you meet everyone outside?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I’m afraid I can’t promise to remember all the names...”
Cam chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. This is all a lot to take in, but you’ve got all the time in the world to get to know us all. Cynthie?” He turns to the secretary. “Hold my calls for the rest of the afternoon. I’m sure Keely here has plenty of questions to get us started.”
Cynthie nods, and withdraws, closing the door behind her.
“Take a seat.” Cam gestures to the couch by the windows. “Can I get you a drink, some iced tea? Twenty years in the States and I’m still not used to it,” he adds with a grin. “As far as I’m concerned, tea should be drunk steaming hot with milk and sugar.”
“No, thanks, I’m fine.” I sit down, relaxing a little. There’s something about Cam’s smiling blue eyes and faint Scottish accent that sets me at ease. “I’m sorry you have to walk me through all of this. I know you must be busy.”
“Nonsense,” Cam insists. “I’m here to help you with whatever you need.”
“Well,” I start, pulling out my legal pad and a pen. “Maybe you could start at the beginning, with Ashcroft’s different subsidiaries?”
Three hours, and two cups of ‘real’ tea later, and I’m getting a headache. Despite Cam patiently talking me through the set-up and day-to-day operations, we haven’t even begun to touch on the real business of the company.
“What about the investors?” I ask, closing my notebook for a moment and stretching out my writing hand. “Brent says there’s a takeover bid, another company wanting to buy up the business. Do you think I should consider it?”
Cam leans back. “It’s certainly an option. The share price has dropped since Ashcroft died, and this would be one way for you to relieve yourself of the burden. But this company has tried to launch a takeover bid before,” he adds, “And Ashcroft turned them down every time. It’s a hedge fund, real cloak and dagger. We don’t even know who’s behind the money.”
“But what about the share price?” I ask. “They say it’s gone down.”
Cam gives me a reassuring smile. “Share prices bounce around all the time. Things will stabilize once they see it’s business as usual here.”
“I just don’t know if I’ll be more harm than good.” I sigh, looking around. It’s not just this office, but factory plants and offices all around the country. Thousands of people whose jobs now depend on me.
Cam keeps smiling. “You’ve got time. We don’t need to make any big decisions right away. I’ve got things under control here at HQ, so you just settle in, get a feel for things, see how it goes.”
I exhale, relieved. “OK, sounds like a plan.”
“I’ve kept your schedule this week pretty light,” Cam continues, checking his tablet. “We’ll take meetings with all the department heads, so you can hear how they’re running things. And since the gala is cancelled--”
“What gala?” I ask.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Cam pauses. “Every year, the company hosts a charity fund-raising gala. Black-tie affair, we usually raise about half-a-million dollars for good causes. It was Ashcroft’s pet project,” he adds with a smile.
“But you said it’s cancelled?”
Cam clears his throat. “Brent said it wouldn’t be appropriate this year, since Ashcroft just passed...”
I feel a flash of anger. Typical Brent, ignoring people in need. He’d been the one to hurry on the reading of the will, not caring about the charity donations Ashcroft had left.
“When was it cancelled?” I ask. “Is it too late to change the plans again?”
Cam looks thoughtful. “That shouldn’t be a problem. We host it in the same place every year, and I’m sure the caterers and staff are all still available.”
“Then make the call,” I decide. “The gala is going ahead -- in Ashcroft’s memory. It’s what he would have wanted.”
“What about Brent?”
I narrow my eyes. “Screw Brent. He’s not the one in charge here. I am.”
Cam looks at me, slowly breaking into a smile. “I can see why Ashcroft picked you,” he says with a chuckle. “You’re going to do him proud.”