Shattered by the CEO / The Boss's Demand. Jennifer Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ The way he had five years ago. The fact that he’d failed to contact Mitch or Nadia or return their calls in the interim had no doubt contributed to their lack of faith in him, but he’d cut all ties because he hadn’t wanted to put them in the middle of his war with their father.

      Rand struggled to shake off the invisible straight jacket cinching tighter around him. He owed Mitch and Nadia, and not just for abandoning the family business.

      He pivoted and refocused on the attorney. “Anyone but her. Not Tara Anthony.”

      Within three weeks of declaring she loved Rand and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, the woman had gone after deeper pockets when Rand refused to cough up a wedding ring.

      “I’m sorry, Rand. Everett insisted on Ms. Anthony.”

      His father would. The manipulative despot. He had always coveted whatever Rand had and then he’d taken it by fair means or foul and flaunted his successes like a cat leaves a carcass on the doormat.

      “And if she refuses?” Rand would make sure Tara did.

      “Then you’ll change her mind. Unless you choose to fail, there is no other option.”

      Another dead end. Frustration burned like acid in his belly. “I’ll contest the will.”

      The lawyer didn’t even blink. “Contesting by any of the three of you immediately results in forfeiture.”

      Rand struggled with the urge to punch something. His tyrannical father had closed the obvious loopholes before unexpectedly dropping from a heart attack in his latest mistress’s bed three days ago. But there had to be a way out, and if there was, Rand would find it.

      He planted his fists on the table and leaned toward the attorney. “Richards, you know my father must have been mentally incompetent to demand this.”

      “He wasn’t crazy, Rand,” his brother said before Richards could reply. “I’d have known. I worked with him every day. You would have known, too, if you’d stuck around.” Mitch made no attempt to conceal his anger.

      Nadia’s head bobbed in agreement. “Dad was impossible, insensitive and immoral. But he wasn’t insane.”

      A volley of curses ricocheted around inside Rand’s skull. He straightened and nailed his brother with a hard stare. “Why aren’t you protesting? CEO should be your job.”

      Mitch shrugged, but his jaw looked rapier-sharp. “Dad wanted you.”

      Rand couldn’t contain his snort of disgust.

      “That’s a first. You were always his favorite and his right-hand man. I was his sparring partner—the one he liked to beat.” Not physically, but in every other way. Sports. Business. Women. Until his father had taken their competition too far.

      Rand looked from his brother to his sister. “This all-for-one garbage is absurd. He spent his life trying to drive us apart.”

      “And it looks like in death he’s trying to bring us together,” Nadia replied.

      Richards cleared his throat. “Over this past year Everett realized he’d made some mistakes. He wants the three of you to help him rectify them.”

      “So he won’t eternally rot in hell,” Rand muttered. A sense of doom descended on his shoulders. He was trapped. Like a rat in a maze. Exactly how his father liked it.

      Whatever game you’re playing, old man, I will win this time.

      Even if it meant facing Tara again.

      He squared his shoulders and looked his brother straight in the eye. “I’ll do it. I’ll come back to KCL, and I’ll make Tara Anthony an offer she can’t refuse.”

      One

      The doorbell echoed through the two-story foyer, stopping Tara Anthony in the process of kicking off her shoes. An ivory sandal dangled from her toe.

      Tightening her grip on the newel post, she debated ignoring her visitor and then groaned, stabbed her foot back into her shoe and rolled her tense shoulders. Whoever was out there had very likely watched her walk inside thirty seconds ago and knew she was here. As if to prove her point, the bell chimed twice more in quick succession.

      No doubt she’d find another developer on the other side of the door, one who wanted to buy her lot, demolish her old house and build a minimansion in its place as had happened with so many of the neighborhood properties. This section of Miami had become an increasingly desirable location lately. But she couldn’t sell. She’d promised her mother she’d hold on to the house. Just in case.

      Tara pushed back her hair and sighed. She wanted this rotten day to end, and she wasn’t up for a pushy sales pitch tonight. But apparently, her hot bath and the pint of Ben & Jerry’s she’d planned to have for dinner would have to wait.

      Not for long.

      Tomorrow she’d buy a bigger No Soliciting sign.

      Resolved to deal with her uninvited guest as quickly as possible, she crossed the foyer and yanked open the door. She reeled back in shock at the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered man filling the opening.

      “Rand,” his name poured from her in a lung-deflating whisper.

      An evening breeze ruffled short, straight hair the color of dark chocolate, and his narrowed hazel eyes raked her from head to toe and back.

      Emotions tumbled over her like raging river rapids. Shame. Pain. Anger. But something warm and welcoming spurted through her, too. Love? Could there be a lingering trace of that misplaced sentiment in her veins?

      Surely you aren’t still stuck on a man you haven’t seen or spoken to in five years?

      “May I come in?”

      So polite, that deep, rich, goose-bump-raising voice. He hadn’t been polite the last time she’d seen him. That day his tone had been cold, cutting and cruel.

      You didn’t waste any time, did you? You couldn’t hook me so you went after deeper pockets. But the joke’s on dear ol’dad. He wants you because he thinks I do. But I’ve already had you, Tara. And finished with you. He’s welcome to my leftovers.

      The chill that had seeped into her bones that night at Kincaid Manor returned. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she crammed the memories back into their dark closet and focused on the man in front of her.

      “What do you want, Rand?”

      He looked stiff and perturbed in his perfectly tailored dove-gray suit, white shirt and burgundy raw silk tie, as if he didn’t want to be here any more than she wanted him on her front porch. “To discuss my father’s final demands.”

      Everett Kincaid. One of the low points in Tara’s life. “I heard he’d passed away. I’m sorry for your loss.”

      Rand didn’t look mournful. “His will involves you.”

      Everett always had been kind to her, but why would her former boss leave her a bequest? СКАЧАТЬ