“Send him in,” I reply, and almost instantly the door opens behind me.
Pushing off the glass, I turn to find Seth already joining me and shutting the door behind him. I walk forward and press my fist against my desk this time. Seth stops directly in front of me.
“Yes,” he says, as if I’ve asked a question, “I’m thinking what you’re thinking. It’s one of Martina’s men.”
“On our secure floor, which means we have yet another hacker, or my brother let him in here.”
“That would be correct.”
“Do you and your team have a plan to convince Adrian Martina to get the fuck out of my company?”
“We have ideas we aren’t ready to present yet.”
“Get ready and then come back.”
His jaw tenses but he says nothing more before he leaves. I turn back to the window, staring out at the city without really seeing it, Jessica’s words once again in my mind: Don’t let your family hurt her. I won’t let them hurt her. I turn to my desk and grab the back of my chair. I can’t wait on someone else to fix this. I won’t wait on someone else to fix this and if someone’s going to get hurt before this is over, it won’t be Emily.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMILY
Come three thirty, I’m in the conference room on the opposite side of our offices, preparing for the meeting that seems to still be happening. The food, a selection of cookies and pastries, has been delivered and is displayed at the end of the long glossy table, large enough for twelve, and I’ve set up the information packets at seven different locations. Everything is ready to go, and I’m about to head to the lobby to check on our guests when Brandon Senior appears in the doorway. I’m struck immediately by how his custom black suit, once exquisitely tailored, hangs on his thinning body, while his yellow tie appears rather enormous.
“There’s been a change of plans, Ms. Stevens. One of the key players can’t come here. I’m meeting him and the others at an off-site location.”
I almost laugh at the insanity of this moment. The master player isn’t such a master if Shane can predict his actions this closely.
“Understood,” I say. “Do you need the handouts?”
“I do,” he says, “and I need you to walk with me to the car. I have a document I’d like you to give Shane that I forgot to bring up this morning. I assume you’ll be seeing him?”
I’m reminded that our living circumstances haven’t been disclosed, but more so, I am aware that he is digging into how close I am to Shane. “I can have Jessica ensure he gets it.”
His lips quirk ever so slightly. “Of course. Jessica.”
“Let me grab your materials,” I say, hurrying to the table and quickly gathering up the bound documents and placing them inside the canvas bag the copy center had used to deliver them. “I’m ready.”
He gives me a nod and we head to the elevator, where I’m nervous about the conversation we might have once inside. Fortunately for me, several staff members join us, and I am saved from whatever he’s intended to chat with me about. Not that “chat” is a word I typically use in conjunction with my boss. Another bit of luck, and it doesn’t take long before we’re on the executive floor of the parking garage and he’s popped the trunk of a shiny black Rolls-Royce.
“Beautiful car,” I comment, placing the bag inside, discreetly aware that Shane’s Bentley is missing.
“I’ve had it parked in my garage for a while,” he says, opening the back door and then shutting it, returning with an envelope in his hand. “But you only live once, I hear.”
The joke amuses him, stirring a chuckle that turns into a cough he can’t seem to beat, one or two hacks turning into an eruption. “Door,” he says, pointing, and I open the driver’s side for him, allowing him to sit, while he begins to cough up blood, which he blots with tissues he grabs from his pocket.
I kneel beside him, spying glimpses of Shane in him even now, and it hurts my heart. He’s a part of Shane, a deep part of his soul, no matter how dark that stain might be. “Mr. Brandon. What can I do?”
“Stop looking at me like I’m helpless,” he snaps, scowling at me as he straightens and seems to gain more control. “See that Shane gets that document,” he says, handing me the folder, before he rotates to sit fully behind the wheel of the car and I have to scramble to get up before he slams the door shut.
The engine hums to life, and I back up, watching as he drives away. Brandon Senior is not even close to a nice person, but he’s Shane’s father, and it will hurt when he loses him. You won’t have to tolerate it for long. I’ll be dead soon, he’d said last night. I believe him. I wonder if Shane has really, truly prepared himself for this, and my gut says no. He has not. Deciding I need to talk to him about it tonight, I head for the elevator. I’m almost to the doors when they open, and to my dismay, Derek steps out.
“Well, well,” he says, closing the small space between us. “Don’t I have exceptional timing today. Always running into you at just the right moment.”
He’s mocking my pizza incident but I don’t give him the satisfaction of noticing, and I have bigger things on my mind, as should he. “I walked your father down. He was bad, Derek. He was coughing up blood and he just … he wasn’t good.”
Derek’s chest expands on a breath he holds for several beats and then lets out. “I guess we know why he’s set the board meeting then.”