Brock gunned his black Porsche down the freeway. At the speed he was driving, he should have gotten a ticket. His heart wouldn’t stop hammering in his chest. He’d been so ready to slice her to shreds. If he hadn’t been intimate with Elle, he would have pursued her legally. She had betrayed him.
He sucked in a sharp, shallow breath. He still couldn’t believe he’d trusted her. He still couldn’t believe he’d given in to his urge to take her and claim her. She’d been so passionate in his bed. Making love with her had been addictive, had taken him to a totally different level than he’d ever experienced before. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone but himself. He needed to go somewhere quiet, somewhere where he could figure out his next step. He was going to be a father.
On impulse, Brock took an exit and drove toward Muir Woods. The huge, mysterious-looking Redwoods called to him. The trees were almost as old as time. What advice would they offer? Not many knew he had a spiritual side, but deep down he did. Too often he’d pushed that element of his being aside because he was the one who’d been left in charge of Maddox Communications. Regardless of the odds, regardless of his adversaries, he was the one who had to keep it alive.
Brock pulled off the road and got out of his car. The shade of the trees surrounded him with a quiet he longed to feel inside. He took a deep breath, trying to inhale the peace, but his mind was racing at a breakneck speed. Every morning since his father had died, Brock had woken up in warrior mode. Except for a few stolen mornings with Elle. Being with her had provided a secret relief from his everyday pressures. She’d known what he was going through with the company and hadn’t questioned the need to keep their affair secret. She’d welcomed him with warmth and passion, and she’d been the only person in his life who hadn’t made demands on him. Now he knew why, he thought, bitterness burning through him like acid.
Until now, Brock’s priority had been the company’s success. Now his world had shifted. Soon enough, he would need to protect a child. In the meantime, he would protect his child’s mother, Elle—the woman who had betrayed him and his company.
Brock knew, however, who was behind this. Athos Koteas. His lip curled in distaste. The man would stop at nothing to bring down Maddox Communications. And he had gone too far this time. Athos, the owner of Golden Gate Productions, Maddox Communications’ biggest rival, was known as pure poison and would play dirty to get his way.
The peaceful solitude around Brock did nothing to calm his anger, which was only escalating. The time had come for him to confront Athos in person.
Returning to his Porsche, he started the engine and drove to the Koteas house, determined to bring the battle between Golden Gate and Maddox into the open. Ironically, Athos lived in Nob Hill, not far from Brock’s own family home. Brock pulled in front of the large Edwardian mansion with lush cascades of bougainvillea, but the beauty was lost on him.
Climbing the steps to the front door, he stabbed the door chime. A moment later, a woman dressed in a black suit answered the door. “Hello. May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Koteas,” Brock said.
“Is he expecting you?”
“He’ll see me,” Brock said. “My name is Brock Maddox.”
The woman looked him over, then guided him to a formal sitting area. But Brock wasn’t at all inclined to sit. His anger still burning inside him, he paced the carpet. He heard footsteps and glanced around to see Athos walking toward him. The short, stocky man still had a full head of silver-and-white hair, and a sharp glint in his gaze.
“Good morning, Brock,” Athos said, lifting a dark eyebrow. “An unexpected pleasure.”
Brock clenched one of his hands into a fist and released it. “Perhaps not. I know you’ve been trying to destroy Maddox Communications. I recognize that you have very little honor, but I never dreamed you would use your own granddaughter to do your dirty work.”
Athos acted confused yet his face tightened. “Granddaughter? What granddaughter?”
“You can forget the pretense,” Brock said. “Elle Linton is your granddaughter. But you wouldn’t want to make that public, would you? She’s illegitimate because your son abandoned her mother.”
“It’s not unusual for children to disappoint their parents,” he said, shrugging. “Elle shows promise. She’s intelligent.”
“Crafty, like you,” Brock said, the knot in his gut pulling tighter. “You don’t mind getting anyone dirty as long as you get your way.”
“I didn’t become a success by avoiding a fight,” Athos said, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. “You’re a successful man, too. You and I are more alike than you think.”