Australia: Wicked Mistresses(71)
But what did that have to do with him? He looked up into her face. “What am I supposed to have done now?”
“Don’t give me that,” she fumed. “Having me followed, watched—badly, I may say. Your goon didn’t even care that I caught him.”
Nick stared at her, uncomprehending.
She huffed out an agitated sigh. “The same gorilla I saw you with on Friday?”
Shaking his head, Nick finished removing his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. “Gorilla?”
“At the hotel reception.”
He eyed her while unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. He’d never seen her angry before last Friday. Two minutes ago, he hadn’t cared if he’d never seen or spoken to her again. Now, treacherously, his whole being warmed at the sight of her, sparks spitting from her eyes, her haughty chin raised high and mouth plump with a sullen moue. Nick was dangerously close to enjoying himself. “Jordan, what possible reason would I have to follow you?”
“I want it to stop, Nick.” She leaned forward and rapped on the newspaper. “Now even my mother is asking questions, thanks to this.”
She thought he’d sent the photo to the papers? Completely bamboozled—and worryingly exhilarated with it—he bit back a smile. The clouds that had darkened his weekend vanished in her presence, but he was astute enough to discern that if he smiled, she would probably deck him.
So he looked her straight in the eye. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it,” he suggested, doing his best not to sound patronizing. “I’ll order some coffee and we’ll…”
“I don’t want coffee,” she blurted, “and I don’t want to talk. I just want you to leave me alone.” She stabbed the air between them with her index finger.
Nick started, filled with concern. There was something very wrong here. She was close to tears, more upset than he’d realized. Glistening eyes, the tremble in her voice…“Jordan…” He stepped around the desk but she whirled and made for the door.
He saw red. She couldn’t just leave without giving him the chance to defend himself. He strode after her, his fingers grabbing her arm as she yanked the doorknob. “Don’t you walk away from…”
“Keep away from me!” She lifted her arm to shake him. The door flew open and there was Adam, standing close, blatantly eavesdropping. Several heartbeats went by while both of them glared at him. At least he had the grace to step to the side and look contrite.
With a little huff of disgust in Adam’s direction, Jordan turned her head to Nick. “In fact, keep your whole family away from mine.”
Randall Thorne chose that moment to walk out of his office, stopping dead when he saw Jordan.
Jordan’s eyes narrowed, all trace of her heated passionate plea lost in cool disdain. “You’ll be pleased to know,” she addressed the room in general, “that you won’t be required in court this morning. The case has been adjourned.”
Nick shot a warning look in Randall’s direction in case the old man smart-mouthed her again.
“My father had a heart attack on Friday,” Jordan continued. “He had an angioplasty and is still in the hospital.”
Nick exhaled and took a step toward her. “Jordan…”
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” she snapped and gave each of the men in turn a bitter, recriminatory look. “Just keep away from us.”
She stalked to the elevator, pressed the button and left.
No one spoke for a long moment, all eyes on the elevator. Even Jasmine looked stunned. Nick turned and walked stiffly to his desk, trying to assimilate what just happened. She thought he was stalking her, trying to blackmail her? And her father—sympathy welled up. God in heaven, what more damage could his family inflict on hers?
Adam and his father walked in. “What was she doing here?” Randall Thorne demanded.
Nick gave him a narrow glance. “Her father? What do you think?”
Adam cleared his throat and sat. Nick decided not to look at him, guessing his brother had heard a little more than he was entitled to.
He sat and rubbed his face briskly. “Christ, a heart attack.” He felt somehow responsible and he could see on Randall’s face that he felt the same. “This has got to stop, Dad.”
“What did I…?”
“This bickering and fighting between you and Syrius. I don’t care if you never shake hands and make up, but no more, do you understand?”
“He started this…”
“No, you started the latest outbreak by taking that award off him. He just carried it on.”
“I’ve been insulted and slandered for years by that man. I’ve been the soul of patience and tolerance because your mother begged me…”
Nick raised his hand sharply and his father’s voice trailed off. Come to think of it, he was just in the mood for a family conference. His blood was pumping—frustration, indignation at Jordan’s wild accusations and shock about her father. And, if he was honest, the zing he got every time he looked at her…
It was time he got a few things sorted out around here. “Dad, I want you to announce your retirement at the birthday party.”
His father looked up in astonishment. “Next month!”
“You’ll be seventy. It’s time to go.”
“I’m in good health—” Randall harrumphed “—and things aren’t settled yet.” He cast a sideways look atAdam.
Both brothers raised their brows at their father.
“Adam hasn’t decided—”
“Yes, I have, Dad,” Adam cut in quickly. “And I’ve told you repeatedly.”
“You’re not on the plane yet, my boy,” his father rumbled. “I want both my boys here.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Adam stated.
Nick studied his hands. At thirty-four, the managing director of this place in all but name, he was tired of being fed crumbs and kept hanging. Of his father constantly playing him off against his brother. Nick had to show he was strong and worthy of the position. Randall valued strength above all else.
“Let’s have this out right now,” Nick said, leaning back in his seat. “Face it, Dad. Adam is not coming back to Thorne’s.”
His father’s eyes bored into him. “He would if you needed him, if you asked him.”
Nick inclined his head. “Maybe. But I don’t and I won’t.”
A sly light leapt in Randall’s pale green eyes. “You jealous of your brother, Nick?”
Nick clasped his hands together, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all.” He flicked a glance at Adam who had the same thoughtful expression he’d worn since walking in here. “He knows that. But if you keep pushing, you’ll lose him to London for good.”
Nick hoped not. Adam had always said he’d settle in New Zealand eventually but for now, the lure of the world financial markets was too strong.
His father turned to Adam.
“Nick has it in one,” Adam said, preempting the next salvo. “I’m doing what I want to do.”
Randall’s thick silvery brows knitted together. “This company is my legacy to you both…”
Nick sighed. He’d heard it all before, many times. “Are you unhappy with my performance?” he demanded, leaning forward intently.
His father blinked. “Of course not. You’re doing a fine job.”
“Then step aside,” Nick said quietly. “Give me the recognition I deserve for running this place in all but name for the last five years.”
Randall got heavily to his feet. “And do I interfere? No! Why can’t you be happy with that until Adam comes to his senses, dammit?”
Nick eyed him steadily. “Would you be?”
He knew the answer to that. Randall was a pioneer of his time. The empire he’d started was now one of the top three financial lending companies in the country, with a triple-A international credit rating and branches in all the main centers. Randall Thorne had never played second fiddle in his life.
“Not even to fulfill your mother’s last wishes?” Randall had turned to glare at Adam’s dark head.
Oh, he was good, Nick thought with a grudging admiration. He’d used every excuse in the book over the last couple of years. The truth was, he liked to keep an edge. Didn’t want anyone getting too comfortable, too secure in their positions. Randall liked nothing better than having everyone scurrying around currying favor, vying to please him.
The old man left the office with a heavy step.
Adam stirred only when the door had closed behind him. “Good performance,” he said quietly. “You weren’t bad, either.”
Nick leaned back, exhaling. “Am I being unreasonable?”
“Not at all. It’s not like he does anything around here anymore.”
“And I don’t have a problem with him dropping in as often as he likes. But this is my domain now, and he’s encouraged me every step of the way. He can damn well follow through.”
Adam nodded. “You’ll get there. But,” he stood and moved to the window, “you have options, Nick.”
Nick joined his brother at the window, glancing at him curiously. They were very alike, same height and coloring, although Nick was broader. He took after his father in physicality while Adam had a touch more of Melanie, slightly finer of bone, sharper facial features and fuller lips. Nick used to call him a pretty boy when they were young. He absently rubbed his nose, remembering some epic fights. Pretty Boy could pack an impressive punch, even if he was smaller.