Chapter 2 #2
"You don't have to be subtle about trying to get rid of me." He glanced at his own watch. "I have to stop by the hospital to check on a patient anyway, or I would not leave." Draining his glass, he put it down and rose.
"A bit of advice. You will be seeing the son of a bitch pretty soon. I'd advise you to work on your poker face. I'll see myself out."
She sat where he left her and did not even stir when she heard the front door slam shut.
Landry Crenshaw was back. The boy who had ripped her life into shreds was back in town.
How could she not have known? Yes, she had been busy with some negotiations: the airline took up most if not all of her time, and it was in the middle of the busiest season.
It was November and people had started traveling again as if to make up for the time when the virus had them grounded.
She had implemented some changes and was working assiduously to get them off the ground.
Her hands were being held captive by a board made up of mostly old white men and an owner who preferred to party as hard as possible. So, she had been very busy. She was also not one to peruse society pages and had not been out on the town in several weeks.
Picking up her glass, she gulped the wine, for the first time, not making the effort to savor the vintage. He was back.
Memories crashed inside her mind like a clanging cymbal, sharp images of the tall, gangly blonde boy with the amazing jade-green eyes that seemed to see right through her.
He had been her one true love, her epic love.
Before she met him, she had often rolled her eyes at those statements, thinking them trite and childish when uttered by her friends. Then he came into her life.
He had been a transfer student, wealthy and complete with a chauffeur.
It had been him and his sister, and the buzz had been all over the prestigious private school that they were coming there as students.
She had not paid it much mind, because she was determined not to get bogged down in the celebrity nonsense.
Besides, she had no time for boys. While her friends were getting starry-eyed and stupid over some dumb jock, she was hitting the books.
She had a plan. She wanted perfect grades; it was expected of her and her brother.
Their parents were very successful as well as high achievers; they were supposed to be the same.
She had not minded one bit. Intelligence came naturally to her. She wanted to own her own business, run the show, and she was determined to make her mark.
Then he stepped into her French class, and she was floored. It took one look for both of them to realize that they belonged together.
Finishing the wine, she went to pour some more and took it with her upstairs.
She had chosen the cream and rose décor herself and loved the open concept.
Her bedroom was large, the king-sized bed sitting in the middle.
The walk-in closet had revolving shelves and compartments.
She strongly believed in dressing for success, and she had a weakness for designer shoes and sexy lingerie.
She could indulge, and she did. She was in a very high-paying job as an executive and could afford all if not most of the luxuries that made life so wonderfully heady.
She had everything she needed, or so she liked to tell herself. If the pangs of loneliness hit, she shrugged it away and buried herself in work. She had no time for self-pity. That was for weaklings, and that was not her.
She had loved and lost, big time. It had not been a childhood crush, but a full-blown love affair that had taken a chunk out of her.
His leaving had destroyed her to the point where she wanted to die.
Never again, she had sworn to herself. Never would she allow a man that amount of power over her.
But wasn't he still wielding that power?
The small, insidious voice murmured inside her head.
Trying to drown it out, she walked into her well-appointed office and sat behind her desk. Work. It was her panacea and the cure for what was ailing her.
***
He had studied the reports in detail. He needed the edge.
He needed the knowledge, needed to know everything before he stepped into the meeting on Monday morning.
He had flown back home in the company jet and armed himself with the thick dossier on the company.
Crenshaw Enterprises was a multibillion-dollar company that specialized in corporate takeovers.
And he was in charge of that side of it.
As VP of the company, a title that had been handed down to him when he turned twenty-eight, he was responsible for a lot.
And he was good at what he did. He was not just a name on the company letterhead.
His father, the rigid and inflexible Lincoln Ian Crenshaw the Third, would never dream of handing down titles because of blood. You had to earn it, and Landry had.
It was work that held him steady over the years. Study and then work. And the company had leapt from a million dollars to billions over the years. They were a force to be reckoned with and were diversified. They owned several airlines and were about to add another one to their expansive belt.
The malted scotch he was drinking left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He was about to go up against his former love, hell, the only woman he had ever loved.
Who knew that when he turned sixteen he would fall in love for keeps?
Not him, he thought bitterly. He would have done anything not to have this task to do.
He could have handed it over to an assistant.
He had trained them, and they were damn good.
But he owed it to himself. He owed it to her to be the one to tell her.
She was going to hate him more than she did, and that was twisting him inside out.
He would endure her hatred and take whatever she had to dish out. But he was going to do his job.
The only good piece of news was that she would retain her title.
He would bloody well see to it. She was an excellent manager.
The ideas she had implemented had saved the company from going fully bankrupt.
The owner, a glorified ass who had never worked a day in his life, had inherited the airline from his hardworking daddy and run it into the ground, only showing up for meetings when his presence was required.
The company had potential, and his research had shown him that with time and an injection of capital, it would be running smoothly.
They usually acquired a company, set it to rights, and turned around and sold it for a whopping profit.
They operated out of Europe but had several headquarters in the States.
His office was fully set up and waiting for him, and his assistant, the multilingual Leonora Giovanni, had traveled with him.
He would have no other. The woman was as cool as the proverbial cucumber and as sharp as a tack.
She had been able to leave her home in Venice without hesitation because she had never married and had no children.
She was fiercely loyal to him and did not suffer fools gladly. More than that, she was approaching sixty but looked ten years younger, and she could anticipate his moves without him having to voice it.
Her compensation package was on par with the top executives of the company, but she was worth every penny.
He was about to freshen his drink when he heard the chime of the front door. He did not have to look at his phone to know that it was his sister.
With a beleaguered sigh that his solitude was about to be invaded, he turned from his contemplation of the wooded area surrounding his apartment and watched as she glided into his bedroom and came to join him on the balcony.
"It's dark."
"Just the way I like it." His lips curved in an indulgent smile as he stared at her. They had both inherited their mother's stunning good looks, the combination of burnished blonde hair and jade-green eyes.
Kathy Crenshaw was a willowy, graceful creature that often reminded him of a wood nymph.
She was unapologetically spoiled and accustomed to getting her own way.
Their parents had been horrified when she jumped into marriage a few years ago when she was twenty years old.
The man had been an impoverished royal, and she had been bowled over by his dreamy, poetic look.
Somehow, she had come to her senses and decided that having him feed her grapes and write bad poems to her was not worth a bit of her time.
"Aren't you supposed to be home?" he asked mildly as she climbed on the arm of the chair and flung her hands around his neck. Delicate perfume invaded his nostrils and had him leaning against her.
"I snuck out."
"And your guard?"
She flashed him a smile that had dimples peeking out from her cheeks. "I told the idiot that I was retiring to bed and he took my word."
"You're going to get him fired." Landry lifted a hand to stroke the lustrous blonde curls tumbling down her back.
"He deserves to be. He's not doing a very good job as it is." She leaned against him. "I wish I could come and live with you."
"Not a chance." He laughed softly. "Besides, father would never allow it."
Tipping her face toward him, she tried for a pleading smile.
"Nope." He chuckled at her obvious ploy. "I'm immune to your charms, darling."
"You're mean." She said with a pout. "Why are you sitting out here in the dark?"
"I happen to like the view, and I was working."
She glanced at the thick folder, her eyes veering to his face. "Are you all right?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked mildly, ignoring the cramping feeling inside his chest.
Leaning her cheek against his, she sighed. "You can do this, darling."
"I have to," he responded grimly.