Chapter 18 Willow
WILLOW
A few days later, I stand in a parking lot, staring up at one of the many large office buildings that stretch toward the sky in the middle of Detroit.
I’ve never even been this near to an office building like this before, but I have to go inside. The board meeting is being held up at the top, and my stomach is in knots.
I was barely able to consume anything more than coffee and toast this morning, and now I’m regretting even that as sourness tries to climb up my throat.
But I shove it down, swallowing hard and dragging in a deep breath.
Of course, the guys are with me. They can’t go up into the meeting with me, no matter how much I wish they could, but having them here right now is comforting. It’s better than nothing, that’s for sure.
Malice takes my hand in his, squeezing it lightly. “Remember you deserve to be there,” he tells me. “You walked through fucking hell to earn that right. Don’t let them intimidate you.”
“Right.” I nod, squaring my shoulders. “I’m not afraid of them.”
“Good.” He grins, and it’s sharp and savage. “Fuck, I wish I could be up there to watch you take down Olivia. I wanna see the look on that smug bitch’s face when you beat her at her own game.”
“I’ll be sure to describe it to you in detail when I get back,” I promise, finally smiling a little.
Malice kisses my cheek, his stubble scraping lightly over my skin, and then Vic moves in.
“Deep breaths,” he tells me, and I do the breathing technique I picked up from him. “Good. Remember everything we talked about. You know all you need to know to win this. You’ve got it.”
I nod, smiling when he reaches out to brush his fingers over my wrist. From Vic, in public, that’s practically a bear hug, and it goes a long way toward making me feel better.
Ransom dips in next and kisses the corner of my mouth, careful not to smudge my makeup.
“Give ’em hell,” he murmurs. “Show those rich fuckers that you’re worth a million of them.”
“I’ll do my best,” I whisper back.
All three of them are so confident, so sure that I can do this, and I soak it all up, letting it chase away the dread that’s been building up in my chest since I woke up this morning. Even if I have to go up there by myself, I won’t truly be alone.
So I step away from them, stiffening my spine and moving toward the building’s entrance with quick strides.
Even as the distance between us grows, I can feel their support, their love. It’s something I’m carrying with me, something nothing can shake.
I’ve been reading some of the romance novels Malice got for me in my downtime and before bed, and I smile to myself as I step into the cool interior of the lobby of the building. My three men are definitely better than any of the guys in the books I’ve read so far. More dangerous, but much better.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” the woman behind the front desk asks, looking up from her computer at me.
There was a time when just walking into a place like this would have gotten me thrown out. When it would have been so clear that I didn’t belong, in my scruffy clothes, shrinking down to try to hide myself.
Now I keep my expression cool and my head held high. I’m dressed up in the kind of business clothes people wear to these kinds of places, a nice blazer in a dark blue color with a pencil skirt and matching pumps.
I definitely look like someone who goes to important meetings all the time, and the outfit was chosen specifically for that. If I’m going to do this, then I’m going to do it all the way.
I’ve learned a lot more about this world that my grandmother inhabits since I was first brought into it, and while it won’t ever be where I want to belong, I feel less like a fish out of water than before. I’m learning how to function in the upper-class world of wealth, backstabbing, and deceit.
So I walk up to the desk, my heels tapping on the shiny marble floor.
“Yes, hi,” I say, smiling at the receptionist. “I’m here for a board meeting with the Copeland Corporation.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll just need to see your ID.”
I pull it out and present it to her, and she nods. “Thank you. Sign in here. It’s on the eighth floor. Just take the elevator on the left right up.”
“Great.”
I sign the sheet she presents me with and then walk to the bank of elevators.
Even though I’m alone on the ride up, I maintain my facade of confidence and strength, and when I step off, I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead as I make my way down the hall to the conference room where the meeting is being held.
Of course, as soon as I walk in, all eyes are on me.
Olivia is here, and so are Stella and Alexander, Troy’s parents.
I don’t have to look at them to feel them glaring at me, their fury clear.
I’m sure they’ve been to the burned out wreckage of Troy’s cabin by now and confirmed that he truly is dead.
But thanks to the dirt Victor dug up on them, they haven’t dared to make any moves to stop me from claiming his assets.
Although I don’t meet their gazes, I let myself look at Olivia briefly, giving her a version of her own polite, empty smile.
I’m turning her own tactics back on her, acting calm and sweet on the outside, acting as if everything is fine—and I have to admit, it’s satisfying as hell to see the way her lips pinch at the corners in response.
Sweeping past her, I slip into the only empty seat remaining at the table.
Most of the other members of the board look over at me as I settle into the chair, clearly confused about who I am.
“We seem to be missing someone,” an older man says. “And we’ve gained someone new?”
He glances at Troy’s parents.
Alexander clears his throat. “This is Willow,” he says. “Willow…”
“Copeland,” I supply for him, my tone neutral. “Troy’s widow.”
His nostrils flare, his jaw clenching as low murmurs spring up around the room. Judging by the response from the other board members, I assume that the Copelands must not have announced his death publicly yet. They were probably still trying to decide how best to spin it.
Well, too fucking bad.
“Yes. Troy’s widow. My son was… he died recently. In a tragic accident.” Alexander’s tone is stiff, as if each word is being forced out of him and he hates it. “Willow will be taking over his role in the company and on the board. It’s… what Troy wanted.”
He swallows hard, and beside him, his wife puts a hand over his on the table. To anyone else, it probably looks like a gesture of support, since they both just lost their son. But I can tell that Alexander’s lips are trembling with anger, and his wife doesn’t look much happier.
Too bad neither of them have a choice in the matter.
I can only imagine that in the days since they were given the news of Troy’s death, they’ve been scrambling to find a way to undo what I did and how I ended up taking over his entire estate.
But unluckily for them, our marriage was fully legal.
I’m owed a certain portion of his estate anyway due to my status as his wife—and thanks to the papers I made him sign, I got even more than that.
It’s all square in the eyes of the law, much like our sham of a ‘marriage’ was. They could probably take me to court to fight it, but that could end up risking their entire estate.
So they’re trapped.
Just like I was.
I barely even look at the two of them, meeting the gazes of the strangers around the table instead. Vic did some research on all of them, so I know some basic facts about each one of them. But none of them are my targets here today. That honor belongs to Olivia.
The other board members look surprised, and there are a few murmurs between them as they lean over and whisper to each other, but I don’t flinch. I face them down, not wavering, because just like Malice said, I have every right to be here.
I’ve paid for that right in blood.
“Well, then.” The older man—Dexter Carville—clears his throat. “Welcome, Mrs. Copeland. Alexander, Stella, I am so sorry for your loss.”
They both nod, and Alexander’s voice is tight as he says, “Now that everyone is here, we can begin.”
It feels gross being called Mrs. Copeland, my skin crawling at the words, but I try not to let it show. That’s the role I’m playing today, the part I have to play for this part of the game.
The meeting begins, and as they dive into a discussion of the business, all of it is dry and dull.
I don’t care about the financials of the corporation or the investment potentials.
I only know what Vic and I went over, but I pay attention anyway, listening to all of it since he’ll want a full report when the meeting is done.
Multiple people speak, the others nodding along. I hold my tongue and sit patiently, waiting for them to move on to the relevant part.
Finally, Dexter Carville speaks again. “The next order of business is the matter of the construction of the new building this year.”
I sit up straighter. This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for.
“As you all know, we’re looking to expand, and we need a new central location to be able to do that smoothly.
The building is already designed, and we have the land purchased and ready.
There’s just the matter of who will be awarded the contract for the work.
Mrs. Stanton has suggested Oberon for the construction. ” He nods to Olivia.
“Yes,” she says, folding her hands on the table in front of her. “I do have a stake in this company, but I can assure you that I personally vouch for their work. I’ve toured their sites, and they’ve managed to combine efficiency and innovation to a marvelous effect.”
“Oberon? I’ve heard they have a habit of cutting corners to get the work finished on time,” one of the women says, glancing at Olivia. “Are we sure we want to entrust such a large contract to them?”