Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“No.”
“Dating anyone worthwhile?”
I almost laughed. Dating? What was that? I hadn’t had time for a date in double-digit months. Working seventy-hour weeks wasn’t exactly conducive to a kick-ass social life. “No, of course not––”
“Then what’s the problem?” he said, jumping in. “Or is it the marriage you take issue with? Do you consider it sacred?”
That pulled a smile out of me. “No.”
“So there’s no ideological reason you’re refusing to close the deal of the century?”
Frank and his hyperbole. I had to put a stop to this thing before it gathered steam. “Permission to speak freely?”
“Permission granted.”
“How can I put this nicely…Scott’s a pig. I wouldn’t marry him if I had a gun to my head.”
Frank chuckled. “He’s rough around the edges.”
Understatement of the century. “I’ve always loved your ability to look on the bright side. He’s the worst misogynist I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
His grin widened. “He’s a man’s man.”
“C’mon, Frank. Even you know––”
“Fine. He’s not your type. I get it.” He leaned forward in his chair. As if everything he was about to say next was going to be of the utmost importance. “He doesn’t have to be, Syd. He only needs to be your husband for enough time to show the board that you’re more than capable of taking charge of this company. And for that to happen without them trying to undermine you every step of the way, you have to have Scott at your back. He’ll be a powerful ally.”
Scott––an ally? He was barely awake during the day, but whatever. I wasn’t about to quibble over details. My resolve was fading fast, however. I didn’t want much. Outside of my career, I didn’t expect anything out of life. My childhood had taught me that the hard way. Wanting led to disappointment and that I’d had plenty of. But this…this I wanted, this made my blood hot and my pulse quicken. Running Blackstone Holdings would be the crowning achievement of my life.
Sinking further into the chair, I tipped my head back and studied the original René Magritte painting on the wall. A business man with a window to a cloudy sky for a face. I was pretty sure there was heavy meaning in there somewhere. “Can I think about it?”
“Sure. You can contemplate it on the way to Wyoming. The Blackstone jet is on standby at Teterboro.”
Frank was railroading me, and I was letting him. He’d had a way of sucking me into his schemes from day one.
“But…”
“Sydney…” Frank’s expression was suddenly grave. “You’re the son I never had. I won’t rest in peace knowing anyone else will take my place.” The heartfelt sentiment wrapped its fingers around my throat and squeezed. “You’ll have status, money, the front cover of Forbes, possibly Time magazine, in exchange for a mere three years of your life.”
If I did this––and it was still a big IF––I wouldn’t be doing it for status (which I didn’t give a flip about) or the cover of Time magazine (which I did) or money (which I had already). I would do it for Frank.
“What’s in Wyoming?” I sourly muttered.
A slow smile spread across Frank’s face. “Your husband.”
“My husband…” I repeated, head shaking at the absurdity of it all. This was shaping up to be a perfectly normal Friday until this. “Does Scott know––about your illness? And this cockamamie plan?”
“Not yet.”
Weighty sigh. My eyes fell shut as I rubbed the throb developing between them. “What makes you think he’d even consider going along? He could be in a serious relationship for all we know.”
A bark of dry laughter shot out of him. “Scott? In a serious relationship?” It was more than a reach. It was a last-ditch attempt to derail this runaway train. “He’ll go along with it or I’ll cut him off without a red cent to his name.”
Scott was married to money. How else could he live the life of a profligate wastrel. The only hope I had of disentangling myself from this arranged fake marriage was if Scott flat-out refused, but under that threat of disinheritance there was no question he’d capitulate––and quickly.
“What about the Wilson & Bosch deal?” I was stalling and we both knew it. Still, I had to try. Every bone in my lawyer’s body told me so. For the first time in my life I felt in over my head.
“Hastings can handle it,” Frank casually replied, not knowing it was anything but casual to me. Damon Hastings was my “arch nemesis” in the company if you will. The one person who had been actively campaigning to steal my job the moment I got it. “You won’t be gone more than a few days anyway. By the time you get to Wyoming, I’ll have everything worked out with Scott.”
“Then why am I going?” I said, already stewing over the Wilson & Bosch deal.