Tempted by Her Billionaire Boss(33)

They drank in silence for a while. An ache filled Harrison's chest. He'd  missed this. More than he'd known. "How do you even sleep with that  racket going on?"

"I don't...much." Coburn turned to him, resting his hip against the railing. "What happened with Markovic?"

"I took away enough of his suppliers to hamstring him but not kill him.  He's going to spend the rest of his days remembering what he did." He  shrugged. "Or maybe not. The man has no conscience."

"Why didn't you do it? Why didn't you annihilate him?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Because you were right. Doing that isn't going to  bring back our father. And at the end of the day, the fact is, Dad was  sick. Markovic didn't kill him, the disease did."

"And you are better than that." His brother's look was pointed. "I was waiting for you to realize that."

"Someone else helped me realize it."

Coburn's eyes sharpened on him. "She's miserable, H. You did a number on her."

His heart turned over in his chest. "I know. I plan to fix it." He just  wasn't at all sure what the outcome would be. It had his insides tied  into a knot.

They talked about tomorrow. About the future of Grant and their roles in  it. Harrison would stay as involved as he could for as long as he  could. But the CEO role was Coburn's-permanently. If politics didn't  work out for him, well, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

Coburn walked him to the door. His eyes were full of life. Full of challenge. He'd been needing it for a long time.

Harrison did something he hadn't done in as long as he could remember.  He wrapped his arm around his brother and hugged him hard. Then he  walked out into the night before Coburn saw the tears stinging his eyes.

* * *

Masserias was buzzing on a Thursday night with every table in the  restaurant taken and the overflow spilling to the bar. The patrons were  in a universally upbeat mood, it seemed, enjoying good food and wine  before the weekend.

Frankie took the order from her table, walked to the computer and  punched it in. She was grateful for the infusion of energy, had  volunteered to take this shift from a sick waitress to help her parents  out, because if she stayed at home and moped for another night she was  going to turn into a permanent case of pathetic.

"Well, I'll be damned." Her father's voice carried to her from the bar  where he was mixing drinks with Salvatore. The bemused tone in his voice  drew her eye.

"What?"

He pointed at the TV mounted on the wall to one side of the bar. Frankie  skimmed the headline. Harrison Grant to join the presidential race as  an independent candidate.

She moved closer, her heart stirring to life in her chest. Her father  turned up the volume so the announcer's voice could be heard over the  crowd. "Grant confirmed the long-anticipated news today that he will run  as an independent candidate for president. The CEO, whose grandfather  was a congressman and whose father took his life the night before his  announcement he would run for Governor, of New York, gave an emotional  speech about the financial well-being of a nation he described as  ‘struggling to find its identity.'"

Her heart, which hadn't come close to repairing itself, swelled with an  ache so painful it winded her. A clip of Harrison at the podium filled  the screen. "I believe in a nation where things can be better. Where we  can all believe in who we are again, where we can have faith in the  principles this country was founded on. And that starts with the  people." He paused, his gaze trained on the cameras. "Someone recently  reminded me of the goodness of people-how every decision we make impacts  not only us but the people around us. And that goodness-that caring for  each other-is what the fabric of this nation was built on. It's what we  need to go forward. My vision is about putting the people first again  with a back-to-basics fiscal policy shaped by the principles that  created this country. We all want to contribute. We all want to make our  mark. And we will."         

     



 

Her heart throbbed in her chest. The announcer wound up the story and  invited a panel of guests to discuss how Harrison's entry into the race  would affect the dynamics. Her father slapped his hand on his thigh.  "Well, I'll be damned," he said again. "He's actually going to do it."

Her eyes were burning. She turned away from the screen, but not before a  tear slipped from her eye and eagle-eyed Salvatore saw it. A dark look  spread across his face. He knew how badly she was hurting.

"Franks-"

She waved him off. "I need that Bellini."

An order was up for her in the kitchen. She waited for the chef to set  the last plate on the counter. Someone recently reminded me of the  goodness of people. He'd been talking about her, she was sure of it.  Tears streamed down her face. She grabbed a napkin from the counter and  mopped them up. She was so happy for him and so utterly miserable at the  same time. She wanted him to heal, wanted him to move on, but she  wanted it to be with her. She might only be twenty-three but she knew  when someone was your soul mate. The problem was, you couldn't make  someone love you. She knew that, too.

She composed herself, picked up the plates and headed back into the  dining room to deliver them. Table served, she went to collect her  Bellini at the bar. It was waiting for her. She slid it onto her tray.

"Aww, hell."

"What?" She turned in the direction of Salvatore's scowl. A dark-haired  male clad in a black trench coat was talking to her mother. He was too  arresting, too handsome to ignore. He looked exactly like he had the  night he'd walked into the office and all hell had broken loose. Except  he had a bouquet of red roses in his hands.

Her mind lost all conscious thought, including the fact she was holding a  tray. The Bellini hit the floor with a loud crash that had all eyes on  her.

It was the roses that did her in.

Her gaze locked with Harrison's. He looked so serious, so intent it  stopped her heart in her chest. You could hear a pin drop in the room as  eyes moved from her to the man who'd just been on TV. The need to  escape the attention, to do something, sent her to her knees. She  right-sided the tray and started picking up the pieces of glass.  Salvatore dropped to his knees beside her and brushed her hands away.  "Forget about the goddamned glass," he muttered. "Go talk to him before I  kill him."

She got to her feet. Most of the crowd in the restaurant had gone back  to their conversations, but there were a few who were too interested in  the news of the day to want to miss a thing. Her pulse fluttered wildly  in her throat as Harrison headed toward her.

He stopped in front of her, his gaze eating her up. "My effect on you hasn't seemed to change."

She swallowed hard, pride kicking in. "Don't be so sure about that."

"Oh, I am."

Heat invaded every cell of her body, thrumming through her veins.  "Congratulations on your announcement," she said stiffly. "You have  everybody in a flutter."

He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. "The only one I'm interested in having in a flutter is you."

She flinched away from his touch. "You ended that on Monday or have you forgotten?"

His gaze darkened. "Do you think we can have this conversation in private?"

"No." She shook her head, too hurt, too unwilling to go there with him  when he'd made it clear they were over. "You can't push me away then  expect me to fall into your arms again when it's convenient for you,  Harrison."

"That's not what this is."

"Then what is it? You told me it was never going to work. Don't come to  me on some high then break my heart again. I can't take it."

"I've changed." His voice vibrated with emotion. "You've changed me,  Frankie. You've made me see how wrong my thinking was. How capable I am  of feeling."

Her heart started to melt despite herself. He saw it, pressed his advantage. "Give me another chance. I promise I deserve it."

She crossed her arms over her chest, holding in the surge of hope that  took ahold of her. "Why should I? What's going to be different this  time?"

"Me." He stepped closer until he was occupying her personal space. Every  cell in her body reacted to him. Begged her for him. His eyes were the  deepest black she'd ever seen them, except now, she realized, they were  clear, without a shadow of doubt in them.

"My head has been so messed up. I've had so many decisions to make, so  many ghosts to put to rest, I couldn't think straight. But you," he  said, reaching for her hand, "you are the only thing that's been right."         

     



 

She shook her head, wanting him so badly it hurt. "I can't be a part of  your endless circle of revenge. It will eventually tear you apart and me  along with it."

"It won't. I'm stepping down as Grant CEO. But I have gained the board's  assurance that Siberius will remain a separate company. Leonid's wish  will be fulfilled."