Chapter Forty
Damion
I enter the office, greet the receptionist, and walk toward my office. Naomi pops to her feet and whispers, “What is going on?” Her blonde hair is mussed up, as if she’s been running her fingers through it, while her simple black dress does its best to look put-together. “I’m being beat up by the board members and your damn father. When can we hope for his retirement?”
“Soon,” I say. “Very soon, but I’m not sure that means he’ll be less of a problem.”
“I’m certain your mother would agree,” she replies, and since she was my mother’s assistant and still talks to her, her “certain” is very certain. “And you still haven’t told your mother you’re engaged, but she knows all about Alana from the buzz she created. I know all about it because the press keeps calling me, but you have yet to really talk to me.”
I trust her. Completely. And for that reason and that reason alone, I motion her to my office, set my things down, and then join her at the coffee table. I spend fifteen minutes explaining what was going on, leaving out sticky details like the Russians, setups, and so on. I stick to what she knows from the press—that I’m in love with Alana and that the board will likely vote my father out.
“And then what?” she says. “He’s not going to take it lying down. You know that, right?”
“I do. I know. I’m working on a way to handle him.”
“Work fast,” she warns. “Tomorrow is one sleep away.”
“I know. I’m getting Alana out of town after the meeting. I want you to do the same.”
“You need me to field calls and alert you if there’s a problem. So, thank you, but no thank you.”
“Stubborn woman,” I say, pushing to my feet.
She joins me and proudly concludes, “You wouldn’t have me if I wasn’t.”
I study her a moment. She’s pretty, smart, loyal, and maybe forty. I’ve never given her age much thought until now, for no good reason. She’s just always been sharp, smart, and loyal. She’s also been stuck as mine and my mother’s secretary for years, working far too many hours. I need to do more for her. “You’re a good one to have on my side, but you deserve a life.”
She waves that off. “I enjoy my job.”
“What about a personal life?”
“Dating is exhausting. Give me more work, I’m fine with it. And you need me in that headspace when you take over.” Her chin dips slightly. “Your mother is on your side, too. Why don’t you take Alana to see her? It’s been at least a decade since they saw each other, right?”
“I’m not going to pull my mother into this. She’s made a new life for herself with a man who loves her and takes good care of her. I want her safely off his radar.”
“Is she, though? She owns stock that she’s passing over to you to make this happen.”
My brows lift. “Clearly, my mother talks too much, since you know that.”
“We’re close. You know that. And if anyone can brag about how good a man you’ve become, it’s me.”
“I appreciate that. You know I do. But he makes it hard to be good sometimes. He’s so fucking bad.”
Her expression turns somber. “You have to do what you have to do. He hurts people. He will hurt you. Maybe he did more than hurt Alana’s father. Protect her. Protect you. Protect this company.”
“I will.”
She gives a nod and heads for the door. “Open or shut?” she asks.
“Shut,” I say, and right about the time she seals me in alone, Blake calls.
I sit on the edge of my desk and answer, “Talk to me.”
“Things are in order. Our friend was cooperative, and so were his contacts. Kellan sat in on the conversations. More in person. How long are you going to be there?”
“I have a lot of unattended business,” I say. “I’ll need to be here today and tomorrow, and take work with me tomorrow. I’d like to leave for my Hamptons place late Friday night.”
“I’ll arrange a chopper service. Seven? Eight?”
“Eight. I have no idea what hell will come at me after the board meeting. I made reservations on the ride over here for me and Alana at Kristie’s for eight o’clock. She has work to do, but I suspect she’s going to be coming out of her own skin, trapped in that apartment. She’s going to want to go out.”
“She’s going to have to suck it up. We need her to stay safe. There are too many variables to risk exposure.”
“But things are in action?”
“Yes. Very. And moving quickly, but don’t expect much before tomorrow. That’s strategic.”
We disconnect, and I dive into work, expecting my father to show up at any minute and taunt me over Alana’s kidnapping. He does not. Per Simone, he’s out of the office and has been, as the press has frequented our front door. It’s not a good look for him. It reeks of guilt and cowardice. He’s smarter than that. So much so that when I’m ready to leave the office and I’ve seen nothing of him, it doesn’t feel right. In fact, it feels as if he’s up to no good. But then, isn’t he always? I have a sense of the calm before the storm.