Beauty and the Bachelor(8)

Another stretch of time passed before his lashes lowered, and he shot  from the couch. He shoved a hand through his thick silver strands, and  her stomach plummeted toward her feet. Panic clawed at her throat as the  uncharacteristic agitated gesture confirmed her fears. Lucas's  accusations.

"Oh, God, Terry," she breathed.

He whirled around, pinned her to the couch with a narrowed stare. "Tell me what you've heard."

She jerked her head in an unsteady nod. "Blake Corporation has been in  financial trouble for the last five years. And for the last three, Dad  has been overreporting the company's income and assets then using the  inflated earning reports to drive up the stock price and acquire  fraudulent bank loans and new investors on falsified information." She  opened her purse and removed a thin folder containing a detailed  accounting of Lucas's claims. He'd given it to her last night as she'd  exited the limousine, instructing her to read it. Most of the columns of  numbers, dates, and names had been an undecipherable jumble to her, but  the typed report had been clear and concise. Hand trembling, she  extended the file to Terry.

He accepted it and returned to his desk. After a while, he stood, the  incriminating folder still clutched in his hand. Instead of addressing  her, though, he turned to the wall of glass behind him that offered a  gorgeous view of the Charles River. But from the tense line of his jaw  and unyielding set of his shoulders, she doubted he was appreciating the  sea of steel, glass, and brick.

"Whomever you spoke with seems to have a lot of insider information."

Abandoning her perch on the couch, she crossed the room, pausing at his side.

"So it's true," she whispered.

"Yes," he said.

The single-word confirmation seemed to resound like a death knell. A  fist-sized knot banded around her lungs until bare wisps of air escaped  her lips.

"Why?" The question was barely a sigh of sound, but Terry caught it. He shook his head, his gaze still trained on the window.

"There are reasons-reasons that seemed valid and logical at the onset.  But do they matter now? Whatever the original intentions-reputation, job  employment, tradition, profit-the result is the same. We're in over our  heads. Have been for a while. Jason hopes your marriage to Tyler will-"  He broke off the explanation and flinched, realizing what he'd been  about to reveal. Pain flickered across his handsome, suddenly weary  features, and she shifted closer, grasping his hand. The ache in her  chest was negligible. Of course she'd understood from the beginning why  her father had been elated over her relationship with Tyler. Two  dominant financial institutions allied through marriage. But now her  father's enthusiasm was cast in a whole new light-the light of  desperation. "Anyway, with the backing and impeccable reputation of the  Reinhold Corporation, he hopes to infuse new capital into the company,  covering the discrepancies before they can be discovered."

She swallowed, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. "And if not?" she rasped.

"If not, then the company will eventually be investigated by the SEC,  and your father, myself, and other individuals will face federal  charges." His gaze narrowed, sharpened. "Why? Did something happen  between you and Tyler?"

She shook her head. Her and Tyler? No. "We're fine. I just wanted the entire picture."         

     



 

"Sydney." He turned, gathered her close. "This is our mess. Ours. We  realized the potential consequences when we started this course.  Regardless of your father's expectations or wishes, it's not fair to  expect you to marry someone to save us from our mistakes. What I'm  saying is if you don't"-he hesitated before continuing-"love Tyler the  way a woman should when pledging her life and heart to a man, then you  shouldn't. I know your father can be intimidating, and the pressure he  places on you isn't fair. But if you have any misgivings … "

She didn't reply-couldn't. Love, despair, and resignation trapped the  words. Words that would've been lies anyway. I love Tyler. Tyler loves  me. As much as Terry cared for her, had striven to protect and give her  the affection her parents should have offered, she couldn't grasp the  avenue of escape he offered.

Loyalty.

Duty.

Sacrifice.

Those three virtues had been drummed into her head from birth. Her wants  and needs finished a distant second to the family's. Especially for  Sydney, who had selfishly cost the family so much.

Her brother, Jason Raymond Blake II-Jay, for short-had been born when  Sydney was six. As the long-awaited son, he'd been doted on by their  parents from the beginning. And one mistake, one act of defiance and  negligence on ten-year-old Sydney's part had led to his drowning in the  family pool. Four years old. He'd lost his life at the precious age of  four.

And it'd been her fault-his death had been her fault. If she hadn't  disobeyed her parents and left the back door ajar for him to escape  through, Jay wouldn't have jumped in the unattended pool and died. Her  father had said as much.

Though fifteen years had passed since that tragic day, her family still  suffered the loss. They never spoke of Jay, as if he hadn't ever  existed. His pictures didn't decorate the walls or mantel in the living  room along with those of the rest of the family. And though Jason had  gruffly apologized to her for his grief-stricken accusations after the  tragedy had occurred, the truth and guilt still weighed down her soul  like the heaviest albatross.

Her selfish disobedience had stolen his son. Now, years later, she  couldn't allow her own desires to cost him the company to which he'd  dedicated over half his life.

No. She'd marry and save her father. Just not Tyler.

It was the very least she could do.

"Thank you for telling me, Terry," she murmured. Rising on her toes, she  kissed his cheek. "I have to meet Mom for brunch, so I need to go."

"Okay." Giving her one last squeeze, he loosened his embrace, allowing her to step back. "Tell Charlene I said hello."

"I will." But she wouldn't. Then her mother would ask why she'd visited  Terry in the first place. Better to avoid that inquisition. "I'll call  you later."

Minutes later, she stood on the sidewalk outside the office building,  her conversation with her godfather playing on an endless loop through  her mind. Blindly, she stared ahead, not seeing the busy morning traffic  or hearing the cacophony of drills and raised voices from the ongoing  construction across the street.

She exhaled slowly.

She had no choice.

Removing her cell from her purse, she gripped it tight before retrieving  the heavy, cream-colored business card embossed with royal-blue ink.  Flipping it over, she studied the ten digits with a Chicago area code,  then before she could lose the sliver of courage she still retained,  punched in the cell phone number.

The other end rang once. Twice.

Then the dark, sensual voice that had tormented her dreams the previous night rumbled in her ear.

"Mr. Oliver," she said. "This is Sydney Blake. We need to talk. I'll be at your office in half an hour."





Chapter Six


"Mr. Oliver, Ms. Blake is here to see you," his executive assistant informed him.

Lucas pressed the speaker button on the multiline desk phone. "Please  send her in," he ordered, rising from his office chair. Grim  satisfaction and more than a little bit of anticipation coursed through  him, headier than the most potent alcohol. He studied the closed door, a  hot heaviness settling in his gut. He could try to convince himself he  watched the entrance like an eagle sighting prey because he wanted to  grab hold of this triumphant moment. To savor it. But he wasn't in the  habit of lying to himself.

And the pounding in his cock didn't give a damn about revenge.

"Ms. Blake? Sydney Blake?" Aiden asked, standing from his perch on the corner of Lucas's desk.

Lucas flicked a glance in his best friend's direction before returning his attention to the office door. "Yes. Sydney Blake."         

     



 

"Son of a … " Aiden glared at him, disapproval emanating off him. "I thought you said she told you to go to hell."

He shrugged. "She did. But that wasn't a no."

Aiden growled, dragging a hand through his hair. "You've got to be  fucking kidding me. You can't go through with this, Luke." His eyes  flashed with a disappointment that cut Lucas like a shard of glass.  "This is crazy. I've seen you make some insane decisions that somehow  panned out in the end. But that was business. This is … " He spread his  hands wide, palms up as if in supplication to a conscience Lucas didn't  possess when it came to Jason Blake. "This is her life. Your life.  Rethink this. Please."

The door to his office cracked open, and his assistant stepped in. But  he didn't see her. He forgot about Aiden and his pleas as every bit of  his awareness zeroed in on the tall, regal woman gliding into the room.  He devoured every detail of her appearance-from the long ponytail that  swayed against the middle of her straight spine as she thanked his  receptionist to the thrust of high, generous breasts under the simple  but elegant wrap dress.