Chapter 33
JANE
By the time the office started emptying out, the sky outside had turned that bruised-blue color it only ever did right before heavy rain rolled in. I hurried back to my office from the copy room, knowing exactly where I wanted to be by the time the storm hit.
Thankfully, I was already wrapping up my workday. All I had to do was answer the last of my emails and I’d be home free. As I sat down behind my desk, however, Colin appeared in my doorway.
He didn’t knock, but he never did, just sauntering in and shutting the door behind him. “Are you busy?”
I didn’t look up. “That’s never the right question.”
He laughed. “That’s fair. You’re always busy, but do you have a minute?”
“For you, I can make one.” I finished the sentence I was typing, sent the email, and finally glanced up at him. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” he said, which immediately told me everything I needed to know. Something was definitely up. When I arched an eyebrow at him, he caved without hesitating for even another second. “I got an email.”
My stomach tightened. “From?”
“The board,” he said. “They’re meeting next week.”
I straightened in my chair, my full attention now on him and my remaining emails forgotten. “Next week?”
He nodded. “Apparently, Sterling Westwood is being brought on to fill that vacant seat.”
For a moment, I just stared at him, but then a few of the knots that had been living in my muscles for years loosened. A pinch of relief spiraled through me as I absorbed the news. Sterling coming here meant that there was movement.
It meant momentum. It meant Alex hadn’t been bluffing when he’d said things were shifting behind the scenes.
“That’s good,” I said slowly. “If it’s true, things are going to start moving fast from now on. Everything I’ve heard about Sterling has been along the lines of him not dragging his feet.”
“Same. Even Zach said that when Sterling and Alex are working together, mountains don’t just move, they run away.” Colin watched me for a second longer than necessary, his expression suddenly unreadable. “Is being CEO really what you want?”
I frowned. “Of course.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, like he hadn’t expected any other answer but had felt obligated to ask anyway. “I figured that’s what you were going to say.”
“Then why—”
“I talked to Mom,” he said, gently cutting me off.
My frowned deepened. “When?”
“A couple days ago.”
Unease rippled through me and I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest and wondering what this had to do with me becoming the CEO. “And? What did she say?”
He hesitated for a second. “Our brothers are flying in this weekend.”
“Yeah, I know. We’re having dinner.”
“No,” he said. “Flying in.”
“Yes,” I repeated, slower this time. “I had my secretary set up the tickets.”
Colin’s brow creased. “You did?”
“Yes,” I said, irritation creeping in as I looked at him. “Why? Just spit it out, Colin. I really want to leave before it starts raining.”
“Mom told me Alex paid for their flights.” He exhaled through his nose. “This whole visit is happening on Alex’s dime.”
What he’d said didn’t compute right away. When Alex asked me how soon my brothers would be able to fly in, I’d never expected him to pay for it. After getting the news that they were coming, I hadn’t even thought about how they might’ve been able to afford it.
I just… fuck.
Colin was clearly committed now, though it looked like he hated what he was saying. “She also told me that she’s taking that as a good sign, that you’re letting him pay for their flights.”
“I didn’t know,” I said, the wind just about knocked out of me at the shock. “I really didn’t know.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense, but she also said she’s hoping you’ll take a step back now. Enjoy being Alex’s wife. Let him run things.”
The room felt suddenly too quiet, but shock morphed into hysteria bubbling up from deep inside as I processed what he’d said. “That’s ridiculous.”
“No,” Colin replied. “Those were her exact words.”
“You must have misunderstood,” I said immediately. “Mom was always my biggest supporter during college. She knows what I want, my hopes and dreams. Being a barefoot housewife, pregnant in the kitchen, has never been one of them.”
He held up his hands in a don’t-shoot-the-messenger gesture. “I’m just telling you what she told me.”
“Well, she’s wrong,” I said, standing abruptly. “So if you think I’d just step aside, you’re wrong.”
“That’s not what I think.”
“Really?” I lifted both my eyebrows as I grabbed my phone and my keys off the desk. “Then why are you bringing this up?”
“Because it sounds like Mom might think that you’re going to step aside,” he said, his voice tightening with exasperation. “I brought it up to make sure you were ready for it when she brought it up.”
I swiped my handbag out of my drawer and shoved my things into it. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Jane—”
“I have plans tonight,” I said, already moving to walk around him to the door. “We’ll talk later.”
Without giving him the chance to respond, I left my office with my pulse loud in my ears. I didn’t believe a word of what he’d said, and even if he had been repeating verbatim as he’d claimed, it must’ve been a simple case of miscommunication.
My mother had stayed up late with me while I studied for finals. She’d cried tears of joy when I got my first offer letter. All my life, she’d been telling me that I could be anything I wanted. She would never suggest I shrink myself now. Not for a man, a Westwood, or anything else.
Except, as I strode down the mostly empty hallway, doubt followed me anyway, slipping into the cracks in my mind and filling the darkest recesses of my soul. Above all else, Mom had spent her life as a socialite, a rich woman who lunched, drank, and donated.
She’d never planned for her only daughter to have something silly like business ambition. That had been Dad’s plan for my life.
When the elevator finally deposited me in the parking garage, I felt like my head was spinning, the weight of doubt suddenly crushing. Knowing Alex could never understand why this was such a big deal to me, I nixed my plan to go straight to his apartment and texted Zara instead.
Somehow, she’d become not only my friend, but also my only girlfriend. Considering that she came from a wealthy family herself, but had chosen to do something with her life that was about more than just mimosas and checkbooks, she would understand. She had to.
Thankfully, she replied right away, suggesting a restaurant not far from my office. I sent her a thumbs-up, told the car where to navigate to, and blindly followed its directions. The restaurant turned out to be loud, bright, and trendy, all exposed brick and hanging greenery.
She was already there when I arrived, a glass of wine in hand and another waiting for me on the table. Her eyes lit up when she spotted me.
“You look like you’re about to commit a felony,” she said cheerfully. “Sit.”
I did, gratefully picking up the glass and downing at least half of the wine in one swallow. She widened her eyes at me. “Rough day?”
“Yep,” I muttered, reaching for the menu and not really seeing it. I was holding it more to give my hands something to do—outside of wringing my brother’s neck.
She peered at me over the rim of her glass. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”
I opened my mouth, taking a deep breath and reaching for whatever calm I might’ve had stored deep inside me. “The board is meeting next week. Sterling Westwood is being brought on.”
“Wow.” Her eyes widened even more. “That’s huge.”
“I know.”
“That’s good news, right?”
“Yeah, it should be.”
A flicker of a frown passed over her features. “But?”
“But apparently, my mother thinks I should take a step back and let my husband run my company while I simply enjoy being his wife.”
Zara choked on her wine. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I don’t believe it,” I said quickly. “I don’t. She must have been speaking hypothetically or emotionally or—”
“Or strategically,” she interrupted quietly.
Although I could see that spark of understanding in her eyes that I’d been hoping for, I suddenly despised seeing it there. Because I’d wanted her to understand my outrage, not the ring of truth in my brother’s words.
I shook my head. “No. She wouldn’t.”
Zara didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree with me either. “Okay. Well, you don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
There was nothing to decide though, and the look she gave me said that she knew it, but neither of us brought it up again.
Instead, we just moved on, but as we ordered, talked, and pretended everything was normal, I wondered for the first time not if I wanted to be the CEO, but how hard I was going to have to fight to get it.
After we’d eaten, Zara finally tilted her head, studying me like she was already sketching something in her mind.
“So, I had an ulterior motive for meeting up with you tonight. I said yes because I figured there was something going on that you wanted to talk about when you texted out of the blue, but I was going to reach out anyway.”
I smiled. “Well, then. What’s going on with you?”
“Are you going to the gala for the arts in two weeks? It’s black tie. Wealthy widows circling potential donors like sharks. Anything about this sounding familiar?”
“Yeah,” I said, already resigned to my fate. “Alex is constantly being invited to these things because everyone hopes he’ll donate. He mentioned something about it, so it’s likely that I’ll be going. Why?”
Her eyes were suddenly ablaze with excitement. “I want to design your dress.”
I blinked hard. “Zara—”
“Don’t argue with me,” she said immediately. “I already have ideas. It’ll be something dramatic that says you’re powerful but unbothered by all their shit. It might be ivory with a structured shoulder.”
Despite everything that had happened in the last couple hours, I laughed. “Are you serious?”
“Serious enough that if you love me, you’ll say yes,” she shot back. “Please say yes.”
I hesitated only for a second. “Fine. Yes. I’d be honored to wear one of your originals.”
She clapped her hands together, grinning like a loon. “Good. I’ll design something that makes people shut up when you walk into the room.”
Before I could respond, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced down, her smile fading just a touch as she reached for it. “Sorry. I have to take this.” She listened for a moment after she’d picked up, her expression shifting from amused, to focused, to concerned. “Okay. Yeah. I’m on my way.”
Before she’d even pulled the phone away from her ear after ending the call, she was already standing up and grabbing her bag. “I’m so sorry, Jane. I have to go.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It will be.”
Which is not reassuring in the slightest. But I nodded anyway. “Text me if you need anything.”
“I will,” she promised, and then she was gone, leaving me alone at the table with half a glass of wine and a knot forming low in my stomach.
I sat there for a moment, just staring at the empty chair across from me and wondering what was going on, but then lightning streaked across the sky outside, flickering through the windows. Crap. I should really just get home.
Looking up, I was searching for our server to signal for the check when a shadow fell over the table. “Jane Thayer.”
I looked up, my blood freezing in my veins as Mallory Foundry smiled down at me like we were old friends.
Up close, she looked exactly like I remembered from the photos, sleek, polished, and beautiful.
Her hair was glossy, her makeup flawless, and her posture confident.
The giant ring on her finger caught the light when she rested her hand on the back of Zara’s empty chair.
“May I?” she asked, already pulling it out.
“No,” I said flatly.
She paused but then smiled wider, clearly unfazed by my response. “Fair enough. I figured I would come over and introduce myself since we’ve never formally met.”
I stood, digging for cash in my purse and tossing a few too many bills on the table. It would be more than enough to cover our check, but overpaying was so worth it if that was the cost of getting away from her.
“I’m not interested in niceties, Mallory. You’re part of the reason my father is in prison and my family has been in dire straits. Forgive me if I don’t feel like chatting over cocktails, or don’t. I really don’t care.”
Her eyes flicked over my face, her gaze assessing before she let out a soft laugh. “Your father told me all about how direct you are. I admire that.”
“I don’t need you to admire anything,” I snapped. “I’m also shocked you were allowed back in the country.”
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “You should know by now that money talks. It can buy literally anything.”
Against my will, my gaze dropped to the ring on her finger and my jaw clenched. “Whatever you want, you won’t get it from me.”
“Actually, I’d love to talk. Properly,” she said, straightening up. “Let’s set a time and I’ll meet you. We can—”
“No. Sorry, but I’m not interested.”
She shrugged as if she was entirely unbothered by my refusal, but if that was the case, she wouldn’t have come up to me at all. “The offer stands.”
I didn’t respond, simply turning and walking away, but my legs felt unsteady as I threaded through the tables and out into the cool night air. By the time I got to my car, my hands were shaking again. I sat behind the wheel for a moment, breathing deeply and willing my pulse to slow.
It took a few minutes longer than I would have wanted it to, but finally, I felt steady enough to leave. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I didn’t drive toward my mother’s house. Instead, without even fully deciding to do it, I turned toward Alex’s place.
Halfway there, I made a pit stop, and when I got back in the car, I headed directly to him. My husband. My chest felt lighter as soon as his building came into view in the distance, but Mallory’s words echoed in my head as I parked and climbed out.
Money talks.
It was awful that she was right, but as I walked toward Alex’s door, I knew one thing with absolute certainty—I wasn’t going back to my mother’s house tonight. At this point, I was of two minds about whether I would ever go back to live there at all.