Midnight’s Queen (Stroke of Midnight #3)

Chapter 16

Aleks hung up the phone and sat back in the desk chair in his suite. He’d done it. He’d set up a meeting for the Solveigs with their long-lost granddaughter. Yet, instead of the elation of a job well done, he felt... unmoored.

Portia’s call had sent a rush of adrenaline through his system, revving up his body while at the same time focusing his usually overactive brain. He wouldn’t say that she calmed him, but she definitely challenged him.

That right there was the problem.

He didn’t know what to do about his burgeoning relationship with Portia. To feel anything beyond satisfaction for doing his job was a clear conflict of interest. He should report it to his employers, but they’d surely reassign him. Probably somewhere far, far away.

So he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He would be here through the bitter end. If that meant he offered comfort to Portia when the Consortium brought the Tremaine Corporation to its knees...

His brain took that moment to unhelpfully remind him that the Solveigs wanted Portia to be part of that downfall. He surged up from the chair and began to pace. He’d considered the Solveigs’ plan from all angles last night. He couldn’t see a way this all ended without the Tremaine Corporation gone, even if he managed to protect Portia.

When they destroyed the company, the last person she would turn to for solace would be the man responsible for its destruction. She wouldn’t forget—and probably wouldn’t forgive—his role. “You’re a fucking idiot, Aleks.”

Clenching and unclenching his hands, he focused on his breath, calming his brain, stopping the spiral into a future he could never have. He had a job to do and it wasn’t to moon over Portia Tremaine. His employers harbored very clear—and valid—ill feelings toward the Tremaine Corporation.

When the first news reports about Dizzie’s identity had aired, Mrs. Solveig had burst into tears. Mr. Solveig, who was much less emotional than his wife, had dispatched an operative to Seattle to verify the reports.

Anna Solveig had died more than twenty years ago. Her story was whispered in the halls of the Solveig Consortium. Barely twenty-one, she’d left her family home and had followed Phillip Tremaine back to Seattle. The Solveigs had begged and pleaded with their daughter to return, but she’d claimed it was “true love” and had stopped taking their calls.

After months and months of silence, they’d received her ashes accompanied by a sterile note from a morgue technician, citing the DNA match and expressing rote condolences.

They’d blamed Phillip Tremaine for her death but had been unable to gather proof. Over the next two decades, their desire for revenge had grown. They’d tried, unsuccessfully, to bring the company down several times over the years.

The news that Anna had borne a child before her death had been welcome news. Terrible, wondrous, welcome news.

And in the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Solveig, it had sealed Phillip Tremaine’s fate. In the face of his disappearance, their focus had shifted to Portia. If Phillip Tremaine wasn’t available, they would gladly take their revenge on his daughter.

That was why they’d sent him to Seattle. To start the timer on the last days of the Tremaine Corporation.

Aleks hissed out a long breath. He had his own reason to hold a grudge against the company, and it had seemed like an easy assignment at the start. But nothing was going according to plan.

He hadn’t expected Dizzie to drag her feet about meeting her grandparents. What orphan would turn down the appearance of rich grandparents?

Nothing about this job made sense. Especially not his sudden and intense reaction to Portia. His employers would be horrified if they knew the pull she had on him. They’d chalk it up to the failed experiment that left his brain a mess and he’d need to prove—again—that his new thought patterns didn’t affect his job.

So... he’d keep them from finding out. Aleks held that thought in the forefront of his mind and focused on it. It was a solvable problem—most easily by not mentioning it—but it gave his unruly neurons something to do while he made the phone call that could change a lot of lives.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was late in Sweden, likely past the bedtime of his elderly employees, but they wouldn’t thank him if he delayed this call.

“Hello?” The voice that picked up the call was female, sleepy, and annoyed.

“Mrs. Solveig, it’s Aleksander Lind. My apologies for calling this late.”

“Yes, and?”

He kept a smile pasted on his face through sheer will and forced an upbeat note into his voice. “The meeting with your granddaughter has been arranged.”

His statement was met with a sharp inhalation. “Really?”

He nodded although she couldn’t see him. “Yes, I just got off the phone?—”

“You spoke to my granddaughter?” Her hope and excitement traveled across their connection.

“No, I spoke to her sister.”

“That woman isn’t her sister,” Mrs. Solveig snapped.

Aleks contained his sigh. Expressing his frustration would only anger her further. That Dizzie’s living relatives denied her closest relationship struck him as unbearably sad. Family should be cherished. Celebrated.

He’d learned early never to argue with Mrs. Solveig. She had very set ideas on how the world should work and didn’t respond well when that worldview was challenged. “Portia Tremaine is acting in h— in your granddaughter’s stead in this matter.”

“I don’t believe you!”

It was going to be one of those days. Mrs. Solveig required kid-glove treatment when she was like this. Which was difficult since he had to be laser-focused on their conversation. “Would you like me to conference her in?”

“Dizzie?” There was a world of emotion in that single word.

Aleks cursed his lack of clarity. It would only make this more difficult. “No, ma’am. I only have contact information for Ms. Tremaine.”

“That’s what I get for sending someone with only half a brain to do such important work.”

He ignored the sting of her words. Defending himself never ended well. Instead, he waited her out, mostly sure that she would relent.

“Fine.” She huffed out on a sigh. “Add the bitch to our conversation.”

“I’ll need to put you on hold. One moment, please.” He put the call on hold without receiving her permission. She’d be mad, but he needed a moment to think.

He called Portia and willed her to pick up.

“Aleks, I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”

She sounded happy to hear from him. That wouldn’t last. “Hello, Portia. I have a request and it isn’t a pleasant one.”

“That sounds ominous.” Her tone changed and he swore he could hear her frown.

He grimaced. “It is.” He didn’t want to lie to her. “I called the Solveigs to apprise them of the meeting and Mrs. Solveig does not believe that you’re working on Dizzie’s behalf.”

“Of course she doesn’t.”

If the sound from the other end of the line had come from anyone else, he would have called it a snort. But he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around Portia Tremaine snorting. Even the sexy, mussed-up Portia from the other morning.

“I have Mrs. Solveig on the other line. I offered to conference you in to confirm your role. Will you?”

A strangled laugh met his request. “You want me to help you convince the Solveigs that I’m on their side with regards to their granddaughter?”

Shit. Was that what he was asking? “Put like that, it does sound a little... ” He hesitated. “Suspect.”

“Just a little.” She paused and he was sure that she was going to refuse his request. “Sure. Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks. I owe you.” The words slipped out before he could fully process the ramifications. The silence on the other end told him Portia was doing her own processing.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Thank you.” He managed to keep his voice level, because his mind had already started imagining all the different ways that he could pay Portia back. Many of them involved her naked body wrapped around his. Which wasn’t only inappropriate, but also incredibly distracting when he needed to be on the top of his game. “I’m bringing you into the call now.”

He pressed a button to start the conference call and cleared his throat. This was going to be an absolute disaster and he had no one to blame but himself.

“Mrs. Solveig, I have Portia Tremaine on the call with us to discuss the meeting with Dizzie.”

“Took you long enough,” Mrs. Solveig groused.

Aleks closed his eyes and counted to three before responding. But Portia beat him to it.

“Don’t blame Mr. Lind,” she said with such sharpness that he felt the bite of her words. “I’m an incredibly busy woman and you should be thankful that I took his call. He’s already taken up significant amounts of my time with your demands.”

The silence on the Solveigs’ end surprised him. Either Mrs. Solveig was still half asleep or she hadn’t expected Portia to push back. Very few people did because it never ended well.

Finally, she responded. “You’re just as lacking in pleasantries as your father. Very well. Aleks said you are negotiating on behalf of my granddaughter. I don’t believe you. You must want something before you let her talk to me. You probably have her locked up in that basement again.”

Aleks rubbed his eyes and bit back a groan. He prayed this conversation didn’t blow up all the inroads he’d made with Portia over the last few days, both personally and professionally.

If the aggression bothered Portia, she didn’t let it show. Her voice was as cold as ice when she replied. “As far as I know, Dizzie is at her boyfriend’s home. Feel free to call and check.” Her pause was carefully timed, allowing for the older woman’s sharp inhale on the other line. “Oh, right. You can’t contact my sister. Which is why you sent your emissary.”

If this were a video call, he could watch Portia’s expressions. This woman—the Portia Tremaine of the newsies and tabloids—was so very different from the Portia who’d lost herself in his arms. It was almost like she was two different people. Which one was the real Portia?

“I met with Mr. Lind, as you requested,” Portia continued. “Dizzie has asked that the meeting be on Monday.”

Mrs. Solveig squawked in protest. “It’s already Saturday here. We can’t possibly be ready in time.”

“That’s not my problem. You can attend the meeting or not, but until Dizzie requests any changes, the arrangements I made stand.” Her tone was ice cold and he could practically hear her bared teeth when she spoke again. “Now, I’m going back to my other concerns. Good day.”

Portia dropped off the call, leaving Aleks impressed in her wake. She was a formidable woman. Her strength and that hidden soft side drew him like a moth to a flame.

“That was distasteful.”

Aleks struggled to tear his thoughts from Portia. “Pardon?”

“Dealing with that woman. Distasteful.”

Despite the lack of video, Aleks easily pictured Mrs. Solveig’s lips curled up in the sour expression she wore when she was displeased. And this entire situation displeased her.

“Dealing with Ms. Tremaine is my job.” One he didn’t find distasteful at all. “Would you like me to make your travel arrangements?”

He held his breath. Would she lash out at his overstep?

“No. My assistant will handle that. We’ll arrive on Sunday. You’ll need to ensure the proper clearances for the jet are in order.” She paused. “Make sure that my granddaughter has the required paperwork—passports, whatever—for international travel.”

“What if she doesn’t decide to come with you?” It was a daring question, but he wanted the information for Portia.

That thought brought him up short. It was an indication of the effect she was having on his loyalties. They should belong to the Solveigs, to the people who’d given him a job and a purpose after the surgery had gone so wrong.

“Of course she’ll come with us. Silly questions like that are why you can’t be trusted with more complicated duties. Honestly, that implant was a disaster.”

Unclenching his jaw required physical effort. “Of course, Mrs. Solveig. My apologies.”

She sniffed. “Send the details to my assistant. I don’t expect to hear from you again until we land in Seattle.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Solveig. Good night.”

Dead air greeted him. Another reminder that she didn’t consider him worthy of her time.

Her words echoed in his head and his giddy mood evaporated. Yeah, his fucking implant had been a failure from the get-go. He laughed bitterly.

Aleks wasn’t an idiot. IQ tests both before and after the surgery had proved that the implant had actually bumped him up a few points. Not enough to be noticeably different, but his problem-solving skills had changed. Drastically.

That was the problem. The consortium’s security arm had no way to measure those changes. Their view of the augmentation surgery had been pretty damn black and white: did Aleks have super-soldier skills? No? Then they had no use for him.

So here he was, unappreciated by his employer, far from home, and hopelessly intrigued by the one woman he shouldn’t be.

Yeah, that should be plenty for his brain to chew on right now.