Beauty and the Bachelor(29)

Lucas examined the purchase agreement for twenty thousand shares of  Blake Corporation stock in the name of one of his insurance  conglomerates. With this latest acquisition, he owned almost half of  Jason's company. Cold pleasure filled him, and he savored its icy  embrace.

So close. He was so close to fulfilling the promise-ruining Jason Blake-he'd vowed over his father's grave so many years ago.

"No red flags?" Lucas glanced up from the contract.

"None. With you buying relatively small amounts through different  corporations over the last couple of years, no one has caught on. As far  as Jason Blake is concerned, he still retains the controlling shares in  the company."

And he had. Jason possessed 44 percent of Blake Corporation's shares,  the remaining split up between many stockholders. If any of the stock  had been steadily scooped up by one entity, the company would have been  put on alert that someone was attempting a possible takeover. But for  two years, Lucas had been quietly purchasing stock as it became  available through the many firms and businesses under the Bay Bridge  Industries umbrella. As of today, he effectively owned controlling  interest in Jason Blake's company.

Fruition of his revenge dangled like an apple on a just-out-of-reach  branch. His fingertips grazed the prize, but couldn't grab it. Yet.

There remained one final step before he could claim victory. The step he relished above all the others.

"Have legal draw up a contract demanding Jason Blake resign as CEO and chairman of the board of directors of Blake Corporation."

Even as he uttered the request, an unbidden image of Sydney appeared in  his head. Her, standing at the railing of the Seattle home, glancing  over her shoulder and gifting him with one of her rare, unguarded  smiles.

"Have you told Sydney about your past with her father?"

Sometimes Lucas swore the other man was a mind reader. And those times-like now-were damn annoying.

"No." Lucas tossed the contract on his desk. "I haven't."

Aiden scowled. "Why the hell not? So I guess you also haven't informed  her of your plan to buy out her father's company from under him?"

"And risk her telling Jason? No. She has no loyalty toward me."

"She might if you told her the truth. If you told her about why you've  set this whole Machiavellian scheme in motion. But if you don't at least  give her the benefit of the doubt, you're going to lose her."         

     



 

"Lose her?" Lucas scoffed, falling back in his chair. "You say that like I ever had her."

The truce he and Sydney had agreed on in Seattle had remained intact  since their return to Boston three weeks earlier. Their lives had fallen  into an alarmingly domesticated pattern: he left early in the morning  for the office, and she spent most of her day at the youth center. She  arrived home before he did and arranged for dinner to be ready when he  walked through the door. They dined together, discussing neutral topics  such as her work at the center and invitations she'd accepted on their  behalf. Afterward, he'd disappear inside his study to finish up anything  he hadn't been able to address during the day. And then … then he entered  their room, where he and his wife had sex until neither one of them  could move. At the bedroom door, all polite civility ended, and they  took each other with a wild abandon that pleased and shocked the hell  out of him.

And left him hungry.

Not just for her body and all that startling, amazing passion, but for  her. The parts of herself she doled out to Yolanda and Melinda Evans and  the girls at the youth center, but not to him. Unless she was writhing  under him in bed, losing control. Only then did she lower her guard.  He'd believed he would be satisfied with sex-didn't want any more than  that. He'd been wrong.

Especially when Tyler had possessed more of her than Lucas had. Her  ex-fiancé had earned her friendship, her esteem, her affection. Hell, on  their wedding night, she'd asked for more time because of Tyler. Lucas  clenched his fist, hating the dual serrated edges of helplessness and  jealousy sinking their jagged teeth into his chest.

"The world is not some fairy tale, Aiden. You and I know that better  than anyone. Sydney married me because I blackmailed her. She wanted to  save her father from jail, and I wanted to prevent Jason from getting  his hands on Tyler Reinhold's money." If he hadn't interceded, she would  be planning her engagement party to another man at this moment.

"Yet you're the only one winning in this situation. Jason may not go to  jail, but you're going to ruin him. And you used his daughter to do it.  Have you even considered how that's going to devastate her?" Aiden  snapped.

"What do you want me to do?" Lucas shot from his chair, as if trying to  escape the guilt that slicked his skin, invaded his pores. He stalked to  the large window overlooking the financial district as well as the west  entrance to the Public Garden. If he squinted, he could make out the  statue of George Washington on horseback. Normally, he enjoyed the view.  But at this moment, he hardly noticed it. "Turn my back on the promise I  made to my father? Just let Jason Blake get away with the damage he's  done? Because of him, I grew up without a father. He laid waste to my  life."

"No, he didn't," Aiden murmured. "Luke, you are a successful, respected  businessman who owns and runs one of the largest conglomerate  organizations in the world. You've achieved the impossible from most  people's viewpoint-emerging from the inner city of Chicago's South Side  to beat the odds as a powerful, wealthy man." He sighed, pushing himself  out of his chair. "I'm your friend, so when I say this, I'm leaning on  that friendship. It isn't Jason Blake's fault you grew up without a  father …  It's your father's fault."

Lucas remained still, but inside, he flinched as if Aiden had sucker  punched him in the chest. "Everything I've done, everything I am is  because I swore one day he would pay for all the pain and loss he's  wreaked. And you want me to choose between my father and a woman I met  less than two months ago? A woman who's made it clear her first loyalty  is to the man who stole the one person I loved most and my childhood  from me?"

"No," Aiden said quietly. "I want you to choose between living and existing."

 …

"Thank you, James." Sydney smiled at Lucas's driver as he clasped her  hand and guided her from the backseat of the luxury town car. "I should  be ready about one thirty. If I'm running later than that, I'll call  you."

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. "I'll wait here for you, Mrs. Oliver."

Mrs. Oliver. One month, and she still hadn't become used to the new last  name. Or the enigma that was her husband. After the week in Seattle,  she'd believed they had at least established a basis for friendship. But  after they'd returned home, Lucas had become remote-more so than before  their honeymoon.

Except at night.         

     



 

At night he changed into the fierce, passionate lover who'd introduced  her to a pleasure beyond her wildest imagination. As if the moon  spilling across the hardwood floors of their bedroom transformed the  cold, reserved man into a voracious beast.

Putting those thoughts out of my head right now.

God, if she walked into this restaurant for lunch with her mother  flushed and aroused, Charlene wouldn't stop pestering her until she  ferreted the truth out of Sydney. And as nosy as her mother could be,  she doubted Charlene would appreciate all the salacious details of her  daughter's love life.

And they were salacious.

Smoothing a palm down the side of her black pencil skirt, Sydney  double-checked the white peasant-style shirt for wrinkles and the  stiletto boots for scuff marks. Her mother's vision could shame an eagle  into visiting an optometrist; she wouldn't miss the slightest  imperfection.

Inhaling, she entered the upscale restaurant at which Charlene had  called and requested Sydney meet her for lunch. Threading through the  semi-crowded dining area, she spotted her mother at a table near the  wide front window.

Charlene rose and lightly kissed her on either cheek. The familiar scent  of Chanel No. 5 enveloped Sydney, and a rush of emotion poured through  her-joy at seeing her mother after weeks of no contact, sorrow at the  estrangement, apprehension over the confrontation. Because with her  mother, there was no such thing as a simple lunch.

"What did you do to your hair?" Charlene grimaced, pinching a curl.  "God, Sydney, you look like a ragamuffin. Does Lucas Oliver not allow  you to visit a stylist or at least buy you a dryer?"

The criticism stung, but Sydney covered it with a courteous smile as she  lowered to the chair across from Charlene and fought the habitual urge  to apologize. Not only did Lucas seem to like the full tumble of  spirals, but she'd grown to love the natural style. At what point did  she stop allowing her mother to make her feel like a five-year-old  instead of a twenty-five-year-old capable of making her own decisions?  Of feeling unworthy?