Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Dare
I step out of my SUV, shading my eyes against the bright sun. It's fiercely windy out here on the Maine coast and I wish I had brought a heavier jacket than the fine wool blazer I am wearing. I'm here for a business meeting, though, and I want to look my best and most intimidating. I narrow my eyes, starting toward the dock.
Rob catches up to me after a few strides.
"I brought this just in case." He offers me one of my coats, as if he just knew somehow that I wanted it.
I take it, slipping it on. “Thanks. Make a note in my schedule to give you a raise."
"Consider it done." He smirks as he types something into his cell phone.
I spot Adam Larsen, the project manager that I've hired to step in and take over for my uncle, standing on the pier. He's standing on the dock, looking down at a clipboard with a frown.
"Larsen!" I call.
He looks up at me and gives me the ghost of a smile, then goes back to his clipboard. He's an older man, probably in his late fifties, with thinning gray hair and a potbelly. He's wearing work pants with a button-down shirt over a turtleneck sweater.
I stroll up to him. “Tell me something I want to hear."
Larsen releases a huge sigh. "Well, I have the signed deed. So that is one good thing."
I close my eyes briefly in lieu of actually fist pumping.
"Thank god for that."
"Yeah." He scratches his chin. "Can I speak frankly with you?"
His tone says I'm not going to like what he has to say. "Sure..." I say.
Larsen squints down at his clipboard. "This project is a mess. It has a thousand moving pieces. A quarter of those are missing. And a quarter of the pieces don't fit in this puzzle. Most of the appropriate paperwork is nowhere to be found. I'm not sure how the last guy kept track of things, or if he just winged it..."
He looks back up at me. "You just handed me a shit sandwich, excuse my French. And the deadlines you guys had set are impossible, even if we had all the puzzle pieces." He points to his clipboard. "The bottom line is, I'm going to start trying to source new equipment today. But we are looking at, conservatively... probably twelve or eighteen months before we can build a platform, get drilling equipment, and establish a deep sea operation."
"Oof." I wince. "That's a long time without earning a cent in profit. We have money. Can't we grease some palms and get things moving faster than that?"
"I already included that in my time estimates." Larsen shakes his head. "That's the best I can possibly promise."
"Shit." I shove my hand through my wind-tousled hair. "The guy you replaced was family. Now I'm wondering what exactly the last guy had planned. How was he going to pull this off?"
"In my opinion, there was no way. He would have run into roadblocks immediately. I'm sorry to say this, but I think you were sold a bill of goods."
Larsen looks apologetic, which only makes me angrier.
"Well, where do we go from here?" I ask.
He shrugs. "First, we have to pull everything together. We need to go through all the paperwork and see exactly what we have. I suggest you talk to your family and see if they know anything more than what I've discovered so far."
I give a low laugh. "I don't think he'll be very helpful. We parted on bad terms. Even if I offered him money, I don't trust that what he'd tell me was legit."
He nods. "Okay. Then I want the latitude to hire some good people to work on this project. The faster we can get it up and running, the sooner we can get things back on track."
"Whatever you need. My assistant Rob will handle any purchase orders or bank drafts you might need."
Adam Larsen sticks his hand out. I shake his hand and he looks me in the eye.
"This project is my baby. Take good care of it."
He gives me a nod. "Will do."
When he lets my hand go, he hands me a slip of paper. "There's your deed to the area."
"Thanks," I say, my eyes riveted on the paper. I have waited months for this.
The thick parchment crinkles under my grip, sea-salt and pine wafting from the page. My heart thumps as I scan the deed, a surge of triumph and longing warring in my chest.
The Maine coastline. Jagged shore and misty mornings, my childhood sanctuary. How many summers did I race Burn across the rocky beach, sand and surf stinging my feet? Remy would bark orders from the wraparound porch of our weathered beach house, whiskey in hand though the sun had barely risen.
Now it's mine. Mine to shape and wield as I see fit.
Images flash through my mind, unbidden—the craggy cove transformed into a private port, sleek yachts docked where once Burn and I built sandcastles. An airstrip cut into the dense forest, my jet waiting on the tarmac to whisk me off at a moment's notice.
But most of all, an oil rig, way out in the ocean. Pumping that precious black gold out of the earth.
My knuckles pale around the deed as purpose surges within me. Let Felix cling to his lies and manipulations. The past is dead, and I'll stop at nothing to forge a future of my own design.
Maine will be my first conquest.
I start to fold the deed with care and tuck it into my jacket, a savage smile twisting my lips. The game is afoot.
My triumph evaporates at the last second as something on the paper catches my eye. I unfold the paper and my gaze lands on the looping scrawl at the bottom of the page.
It's not my signature.
Not Remy's, as it would be if the land were a Morgan Drilling asset.
No, there on the bottom of the page is scrawled Felix Morgan.
That motherfucker .
My vision blurs. I can't even believe what I am looking at. It seems Felix couldn't resist one final jab at me. Or maybe he was planning this the whole time.
The paper slips through my fingers, drifting to the ground. Felix . Bile rises in my throat at the sight of that hated name.
I turn away, my quick steps carrying me to the SUV. I climb in and Rob dashes to the other side, hurrying to clamber in before we take off. Rob tries to ask me a question, but I shake my head and stare out the window.
I don't remember the last time I was this angry. Years of work, of carefully laid plans and sleepless nights, all for nothing. The empire I've sacrificed everything to build teeters on the brink of growing old and dying.
And fucking Felix holds the deed that could keep it level or bring it crashing down.
He’s signed his own name to the deed in place of mine. How he managed to do that, I'm not even sure. Legally, I'm the source of the funds and the property definitely belongs to me, but if it went to court, it would be tied up indefinitely.
I lean against the SUV's door, chest heaving from exertion and rage. Of all the times for that spineless sycophant to grow a backbone.Bile and bitterness rise in my throat, old wounds torn open with a few strokes of the pen.
He's outmaneuvered me again. But if he thinks this is the end, he's gravely mistaken.
I'll have that deed, even if I have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.
When I can think straight, I call Felix. He answers on the first ring and turns on the video.
"Dare." He smirks at me. His voice is smooth and even, the bastard. I grit my teeth and imagine how satisfying it would be to wring his neck.
"Sign it over."
"I'm sorry?"
"The deed. Sign it over."
"You mean the deed to the property?"
"Yes, I mean the deed to the property!" I hiss.
He pauses, giving me a coy smile.
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
"What do you mean you can't do that?"
"Sorry, I meant to say that I won't do that. You tried to cut me out, but obviously you failed."
"You listen to me, you two faced gutter rat. You're going to sign over that deed right this second. Or you'll face the full force of my wrath."
Felix scoffs and scrubs his hand through his thinning hair.
"I'd be careful if I were you. You don't want to say anything you'll regret."
"I'll regret nothing when I beat you to a pulp and then sue you to within an inch of your life."
"You know, your mother would have wanted you to keep your family close, Dare," Felix says."I'm just helping you to respect her wishes."
My hands clench into fists. How dare he.
"Don't you speak of her," I growl. "Don't you dare."
He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. "It's the truth. She always loved me doting on you when you were young. Me owning the deed to the Maine property would have delighted her."
I take a sharp breath through my nose, wrestling back the urge to wrap my hands around his scrawny neck. He's trying to goad me into doing something rash, and I won't give him the satisfaction.
"If only she had lived to see you turn into a disgusting, lying, cheating, thieving, conniving piece of trash."
"Well, she didn't. And I'll sign the deed over to you over my rotting dead body."
My lips curl into a humorless smile. "If need be."
He makes a noise of disgust. "You always were an ungrateful brat. I should have known you'd turn out just like your father."
The comparison hits its mark. I flinch as if struck and my free handturns into a fist.
"I am nothing like him," I snarl. "And if you value that forked tongue of yours, you'll keep his name out of your mouth."
Felix pauses, bloody and triumphant. He's won this round.
“I'm going to kill you, Felix.”
"Is that a threat?" He laughs. “You’ve gone soft. Marrying that woman has turned a tiger into a housecat.”
He hangs up and I hurl my phone at the floor. Rob stays perfectly still, as if I can't see him if he doesn't move.
My head pounds in time with my heartbeat, fury and frustration warring inside me. I should have expected Felix to play dirty; he's always been a snake. But the mention of my father still cuts like a knife, even after all these years.
Some wounds never truly heal.
With an effort, I take a deep breath and force the chaos in my mind to settle. Anger will only cloud my judgment, and I need to be sharp if I'm to outmaneuver Felix. He may have won this battle, but the war is far from over.
When I open my eyes again, I pick up my phone and scroll to a copy of a photograph that I usually leave inside a drawer in my desk: my mother's smiling face gazing out at me, her arm wrapped around my shoulder. I pick it up with care, tracing her features with a fingertip as I have so many times before.
What would you do? I ask her silently. How would you handle this situation?
Of course there's no response, but I find a measure of comfort in the ritual all the same. It helps me feel close to her, even now that she's gone. I draw on the strength and wisdom she tried so hard to instill in me over the years.
I know she would advise patience and caution. She would want me to think before I act, to consider all angles before making a move. And above all else, she would tell me not to lose sight of what really matters.
Not power or prestige. Not some plot of land in Maine. But family. The bonds that truly define us.
Setting my phone down, I straighten in my seat. Felix isn't going to win. Not if I have anything to say about it. The company will be mine, and on my terms and my timeline.
I look over to Rob, who is sitting next to me, stiff as a board."Clear my schedule for the rest of the day," I say. "I have plans to make."