Chapter Six. Rowan
SIX
Rowan
Winnie prances around my legs as I make my way to the front door. I have half a mind to ignore whoever is here, but my mom’s texts are growing more frantic by the hour. The last thing I need is for her to freak out and have the chief put out an APB on me with all that’s going on.
When I look through the peephole at who stands on the other side, all I can do is sag with resignation at the conversation I need to have, but clearly by how I’ve been hiding out, don’t want to.
With a deep breath, I open the front door and come face-to-face with a fate I sealed when I took that phone call.
You have to face the music sometime, Row.
“Chad. Hi.”
His grin is one of pure relief. His eyes light up and when he steps in to give me a hug, that light fades into confusion as I take a step back to avoid it.
Chad’s eyebrows furrow and his eyes assess me. “You’re here.” He sounds accusatory, but he has every right to be, considering I’ve dodged him at every chance.
“Yeah, I needed to start going through Gran’s stuff. Clear my head. Just … stuff.”
“Stuff? Like the same kind of stuff that has you come back from a meeting in Georgia, avoid being in the office, and when you do come in like you did today, you leave without heading up to our floor or saying anything to anyone?”
I swallow and offer a disingenuous smile. “You act like I was hiding or something. I was in the studio shooting a new ad campaign.”
“Today, maybe. But when have you ever come to work and then left without going up to your office?”
“I had too much makeup on. Wanted to take a shower and wash it off and work from home,” I lie. My makeup was off when I left but he doesn’t need to know that.
“You mean Gran’s house, because you’ve yet to go home to yours.”
“Chad?” I act confounded but shouldn’t be surprised that he knows I haven’t been staying at my house.
“What? You don’t think I haven’t been by your house to make sure you’re okay? Or that I haven’t been fending off our mothers from bombarding you with wedding details?” He shakes his head. “Fine. Sure. Today you needed to take a shower, but what about the past few days? What’s your excuse there?”
I look inside the partially opened doorway to Gran’s foyer and dread knowing the polite thing to do is to ask him. The last thing I want to do is invite him in because it’s so much more than that.
Then again, it is Chad and he’s the one who came up with this whole convoluted idea.
“Come in?” I ask, trying to infuse warmth in my voice.
He clears his throat and nods. Realizing that I’m not as welcoming and cheerful as I should be, he fills the awkward silence with praise for Winnie and she adds to it with the thumping of her tail.
Once we’re seated in the front room and staring at each other, he lifts his hands. “So are you going to answer me? You agreed to this and then have completely ignored me,” he pushes.
His guard slips ever so slightly and it’s there—the love, the adoration, the hope—he’s felt for me all these years. The reason he’s doing this for me and hoping, somehow, it will make me feel the same in turn.
“The answer is complicated,” I murmur.
“Complicated?” He snorts. “That’s the type of shit someone says when they’re going through a breakup. Should I worry that’s why you’re avoiding the office?” He looks a little closer at me, and I hold my expression as stoic as possible. “Row? Is that it?”
I struggle to find my voice. If I’m too overeager in response, then he’ll know he’s right.
The last thing I want is anyone knowing that Holden and I were …
a thing. That would put so much in jeopardy for me—my reputation, my standing, my family’s opinion that I really don’t care about, but now, clearly need in my favor.
“You’re being ridiculous, Chad.” I wave my hand and roll my eyes.
“Oh my God. That’s it, isn’t it? Who in the hell is it?” His eyes widen and lips fall lax as he leans in closer.
Shit. “Why would you even say something like that?”
“Because I know you, Rowan Rothschild. I’ve known you my whole life and I swear to god that—”
“I’m not dating anyone.”
“Obviously, since you broke up with and are avoiding him.”
“Nor have I broken up with anyone.”
“Well, we sure as shit know it isn’t Holden. There’s no love lost there.” He snorts and my breath hitches.
“Drop it,” I warn.
“You can’t lie to me. Like I said, I know you.”
“You really don’t,” I say it softly, and it’s the most honest thing I’ve said this whole conversation.
He blanches. I could have stabbed him, and I think it would have hurt him less. “Wow. Okay.” He holds his hands up. “Apologies.”
We stare at each other across a dishonest silence that normally I’d wallow in. This time though? After the events of the past few weeks? I’m so sick of caring, so sick of placating everyone else.
I look down at my fingers twisting together and feel the need to revisit what exactly got us to this point. To the catalyst and my reasons for saying yes.
It’s almost as if as much as I’ve wanted to avoid this conversation, seeing him suddenly has me needing to rehash it again.
“Tell me again how you found out about my inheritance because the longer I think on this, the more it’s not exactly sitting right with me.”
His sigh is resigned but expectant. He is right.
He does know me—or rather he knows me well enough to know that I’d want to talk about this again.
“I went to my uncle—Gran’s executor of her will—to pick his legal mind about ways we might be able to get around this whole Holden mess and keep the company in our hands. ”
“The same company you had no problem handing away?” I lift my eyebrows, my tone more than accusatory.
“Yes. No. I mean”—he sighs—“I thought it was a good idea; it was what Rhett wanted, but then after I sat back and talked to you, after you made some very valid points, it was like all those doubts I had pushed away came back with a vengeance and made me realize just what we’d be giving away.”
I snort. “A little too late for a change of heart, don’t you think?”
“I think that inviting Holden in was the morally right thing to do to save the company and everyone’s jobs, but his ask of a return was too high and Rhett agreed too quick.”
“Go on,” I say.
“He has too much power and I think it’s pertinent for us to grab back as much control as we can so that there is a set of checks and balances against him.”
“He’d still have the majority ownership and control.”
“He would, yes.” He rubs Winnie’s ears and then looks back at me. “But with everyone on the board on our side, there would be constant strife against anything he wants to do that we disagree with.”
“I don’t think you understand Holden very well. He thrives on that kind of shit.” And when push comes to shove, I don’t agree with his statement that the board is 100 percent on Rhett’s side.
“Perhaps, but I also know from the promises Holden’s made Rhett that he clearly wants the best for the company.”
Promises mean shit coming from Holden. The executed contract in his drawer is proof enough. I bite back the retort though, and study Chad.
He has to know that Rhett has already signed the paperwork, that the company is Holden’s, so why this change of heart? Why now, of all times? And more important, why should I trust a man, why should I marry a man who is clearly keeping this whopper of a secret from me?
I shouldn’t. I won’t. But that doesn’t mean I won’t use him and his lifelong infatuation with me to my advantage.
Nasty and deceptive? Yes. Valid? Very much so.
“So you think me marrying you would help hold tighter to that control?” I finally ask.
“We already went over this.”
“I’m well aware. Explain it to me again.”
“Which part?”
“Let’s start with how good ol’ Uncle Henry told you the details of my inheritance,” I say, baiting him to see if he’ll say more this time or will stick to the same narrative.
“He didn’t give me details. I told you that.” He pauses and I watch his every nuance to see if he’s lying. I can’t say that I see an indication otherwise. “I was asking him about ways to stop the deal or help salvage the power dynamic.”
“And his ideas were?”
“He said our options were more than limited and then he spewed legal shit that amounted to nothing. Then just as I was about to walk out, my uncle said, off the cuff, ‘The answer is easy. Rowan needs to get married to get her inheritance. Your family has talked for years about it, so why don’t you finally do it? Just marry the woman, so she has a leg to stand on.’”
Those words hit me once again, square in the gut.
“And that’s all he said?”
“It is. I swear. Not how much. Not anything else. Just the word inheritance.” His hands go back up to the surrender position. “Everyone in this town knows our moms talk about us getting married someday. Why wouldn’t my uncle think the same?”
“It’s … too convenient.”
“You grilled me on this last time. I don’t know why he said that. All I know is that he thinks marrying you helps you claim your inheritance, and in the same breath, I know that if you do, you get the additional voting shares that come with taking my last name.”
My head still spins at the revelation he told me that day.
How my grandfather drew up the company bylaws to guarantee my Gran some say in her family company.
That anytime the CEO or COO marries, their spouse would acquire a set number of voting shares to make them vested in the company their spouse runs.
A perk so they can have more influence, more pull, more everything in their favor, regardless of their performance.
No wonder the company is struggling with a corporate structure such as that.
Great for their spouses, but total bullshit for someone like me—a blood Rothschild—who is left out in the cold.
Unless, of course, I were to marry Chadwick.
“So you gain whatever Gran left you for your inheritance as well as the additional pull in the company.”
“By marrying you?”
He nods. “Yes. Is that enough to help with whatever you need help with?”