Chapter Eleven

 

Mitchell Rhoades. Sixty something. Built like an NFL linebacker. Silver-haired and nearly as silver-tongued as Ash. Also, Burton Quaid’s dearest friend and the best man for the job of running Quaid, Inc. The construction company founded by her father in the mid-eighties. It had spread across the world and was responsible for some of the tallest buildings on record.

Mitch had already wowed, as in completely overwhelmed Colby with detailed lists of corporate assets: Tangible, intangible, and personal. She was astounded to learn her company owned a long list of other corporations. Between them, all the investments, and the burgeoning accounts—mindboggling.

“And now for the liabilities,” Mitch said as evenly as he’d reported the assets. Offering another portfolio, this one as thick as the other, he didn’t wink nor patronize. If anything, he treated her as if she knew exactly what he was talking about—which she didn’t.

Colby raised her hand at that point, not willing to pretend anymore. “That’s not necessary. Just tell me what I need to do to begin corporate dissolution, or if it’s even possible.” Her head spun with all the legalese he’d been throwing at her.

Mitch steepled his fingers to his chin. “May I ask why you’re considering dissolving your company?” Emphasis on your…

“To be honest, it’s a burden,” she replied, shifting in her plush leather chair. “I have no intention of spending the rest of my life—”

“Being rich?” he bit out. It was startling how easily he’d morphed from fatherly to stern taskmaster.

She tossed her chin, not going to be bullied. Many have tried. Damned few succeeded. “It’s not that—”

“Then what is it? Being the leading innovator in the building industry? Building affordable housing in even the most inhabitable places in—the—world? Leveraging human need against incomparable balance sheets? What exactly is it about Quaid, Inc. that you dislike?”

Not exactly what she meant, but okay. If that made this go down easier, let’s do it his way. Colby leaned forward, into the fight. “You have to understand. I’m not my dad, and Mom’s no longer able to manage business affairs. I have a life, Mitch, and I don’t intend to spend the rest of it at a desk.” She’d almost said ‘waste it,’ but caught herself in time.

“Who asked you to?” Mitch didn’t back down an inch. Just as she’d done, he leaned into what had become an intensely uncomfortable dialogue. “Just so we’re on the same page, your mother hasn’t managed the company for years. To be honest, I was looking forward to you taking the reins. You have your father’s heart for this business. You have his eye.”

She forced a swallow at that compliment. “His eye?” What the hell did that mean?

Mitch nodded. “You have his vision, Colby.” He’d just gone from formal to personal, a ploy she recognized for what it was: Good business sense and a bull’s eye hit below the belt. Way to go, Mitch.

“Burton saw beyond the hubris of the world. Yes, making money was important, but that wasn’t why he founded Quaid, Inc. Did you ever travel with him?”

She shook her head. “I was busy.”

“Ah, yes. Soccer. The Storm. I remember.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. “You took state three years in a row in high school. At the same time, you were accepted by three notable universities. Yet you declined every offer. Instead of following in your father’s shoes, you joined the Army and went to war.” He hadn’t tinged his words with sarcasm or condemnation, but stated her history as if it were simple facts.

“I did my duty,” she came back at him, defensive, for what she wasn’t exactly sure. Men didn’t intimidate her. Then why did Mitch? “And I’d do it again. Fighting an enemy I could see was easier than all… this.” Her gaze rolled over the windows behind him, the wide executive glass and carved wooden desk, and the lovely carved mermaid in the corner of that desk.

He didn’t so much as lift a brow. “You find duty to family more difficult to accept than duty to country.”

“It’s not that simple.” But yes. As tough as the Army life was, it was simpler. What you saw was what you got. There was no drama. Just structure and teamwork. Goals a woman could reach. Achievable dreams. Brothers and the occasional sister who had your back.

“Then explain it to me,” Mitch said, his clear brown eyes calm and kind. “Help me understand what you find objectionable with your father’s work.”

Colby looked away, not willing to bare her soul to anyone who worshipped the capitalism that had made Quaid, Inc. what it was today. It would’ve helped if Mitch had stuck with that rabid protector of the dynasty routine. But now…

“Let me tell you what you would’ve seen if you’d accompanied Burton to one of his job sites.” His tone dropped to a near whisper. “Burton liked people, Colby. They were always his first priority. I remember his first hare-brained idea: Building single-family dwellings in Rio.”

Mitch shook his head, a hint of a smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. “Homes for the homeless, he called it. Yet, to get enough capital to build those homes, he had to first successfully negotiate a contract for an outrageous complex in Dubai. So he did. You’ve seen the building lauded on the news, I’m sure. It’s the only one of its kind in the world, constructed completely of polished steel and high-density polycarbonate.”

He leaned forward as if closing the distance between them physically might close the philosophical gap as well. “It’s glass, Colby, and it’s one of a kind. Burton’s end game was never about being rich or popular, though he achieved both before he died. From day one, it was about using corporate profits to improve the human condition of his fellow mankind. It was about people.”

She’d since re-engaged, eyeing Mitch with some measure of disbelief. All of this would’ve mattered if her father hadn’t left his wife and only child behind to help all those other people. Yes, she’d had a life of privilege. Just. Not. Him.

Had he ever come to a single game? Had he ever stood in the stadium at Nickerson Field and cheered when his little girl scored the winning goal despite her sprained ankle, dislocated shoulder, and black eye? No. Burton Quaid was off saving the world, and Bella Quaid? She was just another casualty of his high ideals, left behind and as needy as Colby.

Mitch had more to say. “I had the privilege of working with one of the greatest humanitarians in the world, and maybe you didn’t know, but Burton shunned publicity. He saw it as a hindrance to his mission. He was so proud of you. I hope at least you know that.”

“He was always gone,” she offered simply. “I didn’t travel with him because he never asked me to.” How childish she sounded. She would’ve loved to have gone on any one of those long trips with him. Why hadn’t she asked to go? Not even once?

Mitch straightened. “I know you mostly through your father’s eyes, Colby, and you’re exactly like he was. You expect results, but you want things done your way or the highway. You want to make a difference in the world. You want your life to matter, and you’re willing to fight for it. The only difference between him and you is that he knew what he wanted—to help others. I’m not sure you know where you’ll be in ten years.”

Karma’s a bitch. Wasn’t that the same question she’d tossed at Ash just hours ago? What am I doing in ten years? Hell, she didn’t know what her plan was for the next month, much less the next year. Apparently, there was a lot she didn’t know.

“Let me ask you an easier question,” Mitch said. “Why’d you join the Army?”

That answer she knew. Automatically, her lower jaw slid forward. She rolled her shoulder and tossed her chin at the question. “To stand on my own two feet.” For the first damned time in my life. “To be known as Colby Quaid, not just as the spoiled brat of Quaid, Inc. The rich girl.” To spit in the media’s eye and tell all those back-stabbers to fuck off. “To stand for the right instead of just what corporate greed says is right. To actually do good in the world.” God, I do sound just like my dad. Her fingers curled on her lap, not a good sign.

A genuine smile broke over Mitch’s face. “You’re Burton reincarnated is what you are, Colby. Full of fire, piss and vinegar, ready to change the world. Dying to spit at convention and lead the way. That’s why you’re one of the first female Army Rangers, isn’t it?”

She had a sudden urge to bite her nails. Maybe…

It’s been a long time since any guy got one over on her, but damn. What’s a person supposed to say when personal revelations just kept coming? She tossed her head, not willing to admit to anything—not yet—but willing to listen a while longer. Maybe she did have what it took to keep Quaid, Inc. afloat. For that matter, did it even need her? Mitch seemed to have everything handled. Even her…

The cell phone in her hip holster buzzed an incoming. Tula. Probably with another question she’d only answer herself. Colby nodded at Mitch as she stood to leave. “Excuse me. I need to take this call.”

He nodded he understood.

Before the phone made it to her ear, Tula screeched, “You can get home quick, can’tcha! ’Course you can. Fire, Colby! The house is on fire!”