That’s how he knew that Ian Noble was nowhere near to being the coolly aloof, in-control genius billionaire he pretended to be right now in front of those reporters’ cameras. He was, in fact, a man on the edge of madness, teetering after his mother’s death and the truth he’d discovered about the identity of his biological father.
Ian Noble, the son of a condemned rapist.
After Gerard had perused some of the volatile contents on Ian’s computer, he’d calmly altered his plans.
The mark of true brilliance, after all, was the ability to glean a person’s weakness and then add just the appropriate amount of pressure on that spot, so that the resulting break seemed inevitable in retrospect.
He’d learned that skill particularly well for the first time with his parents. He’d inadvertently learned that the make of car his parents drove had a weakness in the braking system. A school friend from Oxford who belonged to an influential family had let the industry secret out to another schoolmate, and Gerard had overheard. The news had not yet gone public. Once he’d had that information, all it had required was just a small mechanical nudge on Gerard’s part—not difficult as he’d often tinkered and worked with cars and motorcycles since he was a boy—and voila. His parents were dead. Not only was their fortune and property his to do with as he pleased, but he’d been primed for a very lucrative lawsuit against the car company. It had been almost laughably easy, but Gerard knew that patience had been required in waiting for that perfect opportunity to arise.
Patience was his forte.
Apply just the right amount of pressure in just the right spot: that was his motto. Never overdo it. Certainly Francesca and Ian were the weak points in this scenario, but Francesca had proved to be too independent and meddlesome, thwarting his plans both for seduction and with the Tyake acquisition. She’d blocked his subtle efforts to finally gain control of Noble Enterprises along with that infuriatingly smug Lucien, one of many wild cards for which Gerard hadn’t been able to entirely plan.
But again, Gerard was nothing if not flexible. One had to roll with the tide, not fight it. He felt like he’d been rewarded with a major boon, understanding just how vulnerable Ian was. Of course, he’d known his cousin had been weakened after his mother died and he’d disappeared. Gerard had moved quickly to take advantage of Ian’s wounded and absent state. When the opportunity arose with Tyake, Gerard had been ready to strike at that rare weak spot that would have given him an inside hold on Ian’s company. He needed Francesca’s cooperation for that, however, and he’d quickly learned that with Lucien around to coach her, she wasn’t quite as malleable as he’d hoped.
Now he had the ammunition he needed to set off an explosion, and if he was very lucky, he could include the annoying Lucien in that conflagration. Aurore Manor, the place where Ian had been holing up and surely descending into madness, would be the perfect location for him to die. When the story broke about what he’d been doing there, few would doubt that Ian Noble was a walking time bomb. They wouldn’t be surprised at his self-destruction.
With his alternative plans, Gerard no longer wanted Ian at Belford, so it was now necessary to eliminate the apparent threat of Brodsik and clean up some ragged ends in the process.
He glanced up calmly at the sound of the door at the back of the room opening. He’d instructed Brodsik on how to enter, telling him to arrive early and stay concealed in the billiard room until Gerard could conveniently meet with him at a designated time.
“You’re late,” he said, remaining seated in the chair behind James’s large desk.
“I had to be careful. This place is crawling with security,” Brodsik said, walking toward him.
Gerard shrugged. “All due to the press conference. Ian is the god of the Western world of business, after all,” he said sardonically. “Well? Are you ready to get down to business? I’ll instruct you on how to get into Noble’s suite from here. You’ll remain hidden there until he arrives, then take him by surprise. I’ve already described how to get away cleanly afterward.”
“Where’s the money?” Brodsik asked roughly. Gerard threw a contemptuous glance at his hulking form. He pointed at a backpack that sat on the desk in front of him.
“It’s all there. Your fee for the work, more than enough money to disappear and . . .”
“My incentive to keep quiet about my ‘work,’” Brodsik said. He grinned, eyeing the backpack hungrily. Gerard had never seen him smile before. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Something seemed to occur to Brodsik and his grin turned to a menacing scowl. “And if I should find out anything happened to Shell, I’m gonna hold you responsible. That’ll mean more money,” he said, referring to Shell Stern, his partner.
Gerard snarled, hatred and anger flaring in him fast and hot. “How dare you threaten me with more blackmail.”
Brodsik looked a little taken aback by his sudden, intense fury. “Something happened to him. Shell’s not the type to stay quiet for two minutes, let alone go missing for days. I’m not saying it was you who did something to him, but—”
“It certainly sounded that way to me,” Gerard grated out.
Brodsik seemed to regret bringing up the topic as he continued to eye the backpack.
“Let’s just get this show on the road,” Brodsik mumbled, stepping toward the desk, his hand stretched toward the backpack.
Gerard made a halting gesture. “I’ll open it for you in a moment. First, let me see the gun. I have a right to assure myself that you’re prepared.”