Chapter 14
He made his plans carefully and did his research.
He knew that Katherine Saunders had an office at the prestigious and lofty New Horizon Baptist Church, where for "a small fee" she dispensed her legal advice to the many members.
She was supposed to be retired, but instead had grown a small charitable business into a very lucrative one.
She was also the sole legal counsel for the church itself and handled their many transactions.
Zane's lips twisted cynically as he read on.
The church was doing a very thriving business: properties all over town, a private jet to transport the "first family" wherever they wanted to go, a yacht with the church's name emblazoned on the side, no doubt to avoid the enormous taxes.
And the first family's house was a mansion situated on a slight incline with sweeping grounds, waving palm trees and a mile-long cobbled driveway starting from the massive iron gates.
There was even a ten-car garage. Interesting, he thought. He also read that the wife came from money and the pastor had never worked a day in his life.
The more he read, the angrier he became.
He hated people who rode on the backs of others with so-called messages of prosperity, when they were the only ones prospering.
Granted, the pastor's members read like a who's who in society: a few senators, doctors, lawyers and several actresses as well, to sweeten the pot.
His blood was already boiling by the time he jumped on his bike and made his way to the building. He was armed with more information than he cared to assimilate, and it made him edgy as hell.
He also knew that on a Monday, Mrs. Katherine Saunders would be presiding in her office at the church building, and the woman had two assistants.
Christ! Shaking off the rage, he turned into the wide driveway and parked beneath an overhanging oleander bush.
A quick survey of the parking lot showed a handful of vehicles, including a brand spanking new BMW parked in the designated "Pastor Only" spot. Arrogant prick, he thought viciously.
The building was a lofty split-level of spit-and-polish brick and glass, with a towering peak spearing upward.
Two men he assumed were gardeners were raking fall leaves and dumping them into bags.
Zane wondered if they were paid or had been told they were helping out the kingdom by throwing in their weight.
A few outbuildings were scattered tastefully around the area and were neat as a pin and well maintained.
He had deliberately worn his oldest jeans, and his black sweater had a hole in the left arm.
His hair was tied back with a leather thong and flowed past his shoulders.
His boots were scuffed and his black leather jacket scarred.
He looked dangerous and lethal, the combination he was gunning for.
The earring glinted in his lobe, adding to the look.
Ignoring the several glances aimed his way, he continued toward the side of the building where he knew the offices were.
And there were offices, plural. Pastor Gregory Weeks had a secretary and an accountant as well as a PR department. He knew the offices where Katherine Saunders did her thing were to the right of the building.
Stepping into the elegant gold and cream décor, he made his way toward her domain without encountering anyone and wondered why a bodyguard or two didn't jump out of the shadows to confront him.
The man must be supremely confident in his power, or that of a higher being, Zane thought sardonically as he pushed the doors open.
An assistant snapped upright, her eyes owlish behind her glasses as she stared at him.
"I need to see Mrs. Saunders," he told her before she could say anything.
He had no idea what made her rise, her hands clutching each other, unaware that his voice was instinctively authoritative and his face very recognizable.
"Mr. Stanhope." She stuttered for a minute. "I-do you have an appointment?"
"You know damn well I don't." Softening his voice, he walked into the room. "I need to speak with her." His charming smile had her fluttering her lashes and her heart doing a dive.
"I will have to alert her personal assistant."
"Do that." Leaning over, he noticed her name tag. "Millicent. Lovely name."
The woman pinkened and was so flustered she fumbled to dial the extension. Leaning back on the desk and aiming his lethally charming smile at her, he watched as she spoke in an undertone and figured from her expression that the assistant was putting up some sort of protest.
"Mrs. Stanley said to tell you that Mrs. Saunders is very busy and you should make an appointment."
Zane sympathized with the poor woman, and seeing her harried look, decided to go easy on her. "You can tell Mrs. Stanley that I'm not leaving without seeing Mrs. Saunders." Keeping his smile in place, he walked over to one of the pretty stuffed chairs to take a seat.
It did not take long for the stiff, starched and obviously disapproving Mrs. Stanley to make her appearance.
He didn't even have time to leaf through the piles of glossy editorials about the church.
Her iron gray hair was pulled back so ruthlessly that Zane wondered if the pursed lips indicated a massive headache.
"This way." She turned in her sensible tan heels and led the way. Winking at Millicent, he got her to unwind enough to flash him a sympathetic smile.
Mrs. Stanley's office was a little bigger than Millicent's and boasted a large oval counter where a high-powered desktop took up most of the space. Steel cabinets were at her back. The space was uncluttered, with several files packed neatly to the left.
"Like I told Ms. Dale at the front, Mrs. Saunders is very busy."
He folded his arms over his chest and figured that he wouldn't be able to get to her with charm. He would use steel.
"I'm perfectly willing and able to storm the office. But by whatever means necessary, I will see her."
The flicker of fear in the woman's eyes had her unbending enough to press the buzzer at her desk.
"Mrs. Saunders will give you five minutes," he was told stiffly.
"That's all I need." Going toward the double oak doors, he pushed them open to find the woman behind a massive desk, not a hair out of place.
He had no idea why he had thought Kara favored her, other than in looks.
This woman was cold and unyielding, while the woman he was in love with was soft and sweet.
She looked up from a contract she was perusing, a stiff look on her face.
"I'm sure my assistant told you how busy I am, Mr. Stanhope. I can only spare you five minutes." The fact that she actually glanced at her watch pissed him off even more. "And I really don't think we have a lot to say to each other."
"Oh, we have plenty." To further disconcert and intimidate, he took a seat and lounged back, his feet crossed at the ankles. "Courtesy dictates you ask if I would like a cup of coffee or tea."
The lips pursed even more. "You're not an invited guest. I suggest you-"
"She's a wonderful woman in spite of her upbringing." He watched as her mahogany eyes flashed fire.
"How dare you imply-"
"Did I imply?" he asked silkily. "That was not my intention.
" He leaned forward, his eyes finally icing over.
"I was there when you took a bite out of her in front of me.
Your intention was to intimidate and humiliate, and you did so magnificently.
She cried in my arms, cried herself almost sick, because what you think of her means a lot. "
He lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. "Personally, I don't give a flying damn what people think of me. But she does. You hurt her, and in return, she ended up hurting me."
"Get out of my office!"
"I'm not done." His jaw was hard, his gaze fierce. "Let me tell you how much influence my family has in your world. We're the ultimate law firm, with influence that goes all the way to the White House."
He smiled grimly. "Normally, I don't give a crap about things like that, but it comes in handy just now.
" He waved a hand around the elegantly appointed office.
"I can make things very difficult for you and for that weak-minded prick you forced her to be with.
You hurt her, and that's a mortal sin to me. "
He rose and approached her desk, getting a dark thrill out of the fact that she shrank back in the chair.
"I'm in love with your daughter and have every intention of marrying her.
You don't want to make an enemy out of me.
You're her mother, and I will do my best to respect that, but you owe her an apology. "
His eyes scraped over her with the precision of a scalpel and left her bleeding. "If I hear of you and that asshole approaching her with anything but the respect she's due, there'll be hell to pay. Questions? Opinions? Are you going to call security on me to hustle me out?"
Katherine had never seen such cold and controlled anger in her life, and it sent fear streaming through her pores. She was smart enough to know that he meant every word he said.
"There has been a misunderstanding," she said stiffly, her hands clasped on the desk in a tight ball.
"Oh?" He lifted a brow. "Enlighten me."
"I was upset." She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. "She broke off her engagement-"
"Which was her right."
"And-and she was shacking up with you." She spread her hands wide. "I'm a mother and I had a right to be concerned."
"Was that concern you exhibited? Or plain prejudice?
You saw my tattoos and knew of my so-called reputation and jumped to the obvious conclusions.
Instead of taking your daughter aside and having a private conversation with her, you reprimanded her like she was a two-year-old.
I'd say she deserves an apology, don't you think?
" His tone was mild, but the underlying threat was clear.
"Of course," she said stiffly.