Sex, Lies and the CEO. Barbara Dunlop

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Why would you hope that?”

      “He struggled for years to make ends meet. I’d hate to think he deprived himself and saved these for me.”

      “He was still buying single malt,” said Jennifer.

      Darci couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Born and raised in Aberdeen, Ian Rivers swore by a strong, peaty Scotch.

      “What’s this?” Jennifer pulled a folded envelope from beneath the coins. A photograph was tucked in the fold, and she drew it out.

      Darci checked the picture. “That’s definitely my dad.”

      Ian was standing in a small, sparse office, his hand braced on a wooden desk. She flipped the photo, but nothing was written on the back.

      Jennifer opened the unsealed envelope.

      “A coin appraisal?” Darci guessed, taking a sip of her wine.

      “A letter.”

      “To my dad?”

      It must have had significant sentimental value. Darci couldn’t help but wonder if it was a love letter. She even dared to hope it was from her mother, Alison. Though Alison Rivers had never contacted them, it would be nice to think she might have thought about them once in a while.

      “It’s from your dad. To someone named Dalton Colborn.”

      Darci’s stomach did a flip. She hadn’t heard the name in years.

      Jennifer glanced up at the silence. “You know him?”

      “I never met him. He owned Colborn Aerospace. And he was once my Dad’s business partner.”

      “Your dad was involved in Colborn Aerospace?”

      “It was a different company they had together, D&I Holdings. I don’t know much about it, and it all ended when I was just a baby.” Darci gazed at the picture. “Dalton and my dad were both engineers. They opened a company together, but it all fell apart, apparently quite badly. For as long as I can remember, Dad would fly into a rage whenever he saw the Colborn name.”

      “There’s a thirty-two-cent stamp on it,” said Jennifer. “Never mind old, that’s ancient. It was never mailed.”

      The flap on the envelope gaped open.

      “Read it,” said Darci.

      “You sure?”

      Darci slugged back a swallow of wine. “I’m sure.”

      * * *

      Shane Colborn sent the fuchsia hardcover skittering across his wide cherrywood desk. Justin Massey, head of the legal department at Colborn Aerospace, trapped it before it could drop to the floor.

      “Well, that’s a new low,” said Shane.

      He hated reading about himself. Business articles were bad enough. The tabloids were worse, but they were mercifully short. This mess was appalling.

      “There’s no way to stop it from being released,” said Justin. “We were lucky to get our hands on this copy.” He paused. “So, how much of it is true?”

      Shane struggled to clear the anger from his brain. “I don’t know. Are you looking for a number?”

      “Sure. Give me a number.”

      “Twenty, maybe thirty percent. The dates and places and events are all accurate. But I sure don’t talk like an eighteenth-century poet in bed.”

      Justin’s face broke into a grin.

      “Shut up,” Shane ordered.

      “I never said a word.”

      Shane pushed back his leather desk chair and stood, his anger level rising instead of falling. “I didn’t flirt with other women when she was in the room. And cheap? Cheap? I don’t think the woman glanced at a price tag the entire time we were dating. Limos, restaurants, clothes, parties. I bought her a blue-diamond bracelet for her birthday last March.”

      It was a purchase he now regretted. He didn’t mind the cost, but there was something intimate about diamonds, particularly those in a custom setting. But Bianca had pouted and whined prettily until he’d given in. He had to admit, no matter how ugly this breakup became, he was relieved to be out from under her complaining.

      “I’m most worried about chapter six,” said Justin.

      “Where she accuses me of collusion and corporate espionage?”

      “Clients really don’t care what you’re like in bed. But they do care if you’re price-fixing or stealing their intellectual property.”

      “I’m not.”

      “I know you’re not.”

      It was reassuring for Shane to hear that his lawyer trusted him. “It sounded like you wanted me to answer that.”

      “I’m not the one you have to convince.”

      Shane nodded at the book with the crass cover. “Is there a way for me to rebut?”

      “Not unless you want a he-said-she-said battle in the media. You know Bianca will do all the local talk shows. Any move you make prolongs the story.”

      “So I stay silent.”

      “Yes.”

      “And let them think I’m a pansy in the sack?”

      “I’ll be advising our clients that the espionage and collusion accusations are ridiculous. I could mention your sex life, if you’d like.”

      “You’re a real comedian.”

      “I try. Have you heard anything from Gobrecht this week?”

      Shane shook his head.

      Gobrecht Airlines was headquartered in Berlin, and they were in the final stages of awarding a contract for twenty new commuter jets. The Colborn Aware 200 was the front runner. If Gobrecht made a commitment to buy, Beaumont Air in Paris was likely to follow suit with an even larger contract.

      Justin backed toward the office door. “I know your public profile has always been good for business. But can you please try to stay out of the headlines for a while?”

      “I’ve never tried to get into them. I thought Bianca knew the score.”

      Bianca had been introduced to Shane by the Millers. She was the daughter of their good friend, so Shane had assumed she’d grown up around wealthy, high-profile people. It never occurred to him that she’d gossip in public. And it sure never occurred to him that she’d write a supposed tell-all book for money.

      “It’s impossible to know who to trust,” said Justin.

СКАЧАТЬ