Gloria’s sharp eyes dart around the conference room table, leaving no one unscathed. We all meet her gaze dutifully over our bottles of Poland Spring water.

“I called this meeting to discuss a potential new direction for Cavanaugh Yacht. I’ve had Jamie do some research on Bellamy Marine so he might give us more information on the status of their company. Jamie...summarize what you’ve found out.”

My mother nods at our chief financial officer, who takes an audible gulp of air. The poor guy’s worked for us for three years and still gets nervous under pressure. But it’s understandable—Gloria Cavanaugh pushed me into the world twenty-nine years ago, and she still scares the crap out of me.

Jamie clears his throat. “Bellamy Marine used to be a powerhouse. They owned sixty-five percent of pleasure boats sold in the European-Mediterranean market. But recently, they’ve lost considerable market share. Their primary boat designer resigned, and their newest model isn’t doing as well as projected.” He looks over at Helen, our sales assistant, who quickly stands up with a stack of blue pocket folders and passes one to each of us. “You’ll find copies of a financial statement that I put together on their company, as well as a list of the principals of Bellamy Marine as it stands right now.”

I skim through the list of names: Roger Bellamy, CEO. Scott Harwell, President. Kiernan Rollins, Secretary and Treasurer. Portia Bellamy, Advertising and Marketing.

Jamie continues, a bit more emboldened because my mother is nodding her approval. “Roger Bellamy has made it known he’d like to retire in the next couple of years, but he wants to ensure that the family legacy continues, since this is the third generation Bellamy to run the company.”

My mother interrupts. “Thank you, Jamie. Let me share what I gleaned from my phone conversation with Roger yesterday. As you stated, he’s very much concerned about the future of Bellamy Marine. He was quite frank with me about not having a great deal of confidence in his current executive staff and would like to see the company stay with the family as per his grandfather’s wishes, but his son isn’t interested in taking over...his focus is more on being a playboy and spending Daddy’s millions.”

She punches her eyes at me. Seriously, Gloria? I guess I’ve earned the playboy label, but I can spend my own millions, thanks.

“Roger does, however, have a daughter.”

“Portia Bellamy,” I find myself saying.

“Yes. The new marketing manager. She doesn’t know much about the business but has expressed interest in learning more.”

Bill Richardson, our vice-president, leans over the table, his big hands clasped and his ruddy face expectant. He always wants to cut to the chase. “So where does Cavanaugh Yacht fit in to all of this?” 

“We’re thinking of possibly partnering—” Jamie starts to answer but shuts his mouth abruptly as Gloria silences him with a glare. Poor guy, but he should know better by now than to steal the boss’s thunder.

She’s got an eyebrow lifted so high, it looks it’s getting ready for take-off. “I am in the process of exploring the possibility of working with Bellamy on new designs that would be acceptable for the U.S. and European markets. Everyone at this table will be given an assignment pertinent to his or her role to determine if this is viable. I’ll be sending out an email later this afternoon outlining what I expect from each of you. We’ll reconvene in two weeks.”

She stands up, which means we do, too. I pick up my folder and start to follow Bill out of the room when my mother’s voice stops me in my tracks.

“Damon. I’d like a word with you.”

Ah, shit...this is probably about the office antics with the intern yesterday. Poor Eva was so stressed out about getting caught; I assured her I’d take the blame, and I will.

After the last person leaves the conference room, my mother closes the door, sits down and motions for me to do the same.

Really not looking forward to this.

“Look, Mother...I apologize for yesterday. It was totally unprofessional of me.”

“Yesterday?” Her forehead is creased in puzzlement.

“With the new intern. Shouldn’t have put her in that, uh, position, and it won’t happen again. And it was all my idea. I take full responsibility.”

My mother rolls her eyes and frowns, sighing loudly. She waves a jeweled hand at me. “Oh, Damon—I have much bigger fish to fry than worrying about my twenty-nine-year-old son keeping his pants zipped. Although I do have a plan that will require you to be more...selective.”

Plan?

Her face smooths out so she looks almost pleasant. “I didn’t want to divulge this to the group. It has to be handled extremely discreetly, and this needs to stay just between the two of us.” She twirls the  sapphire and diamond ring on her finger. “I wouldn’t want to tip our hand.”

She’s seriously starting to piss me off, but that’s how Gloria rolls. Keep everybody a little off-balance so she stays in charge. It was a blast growing up like that. Still is.

I raise my eyebrow. Must be genetic.

She’s amused that I’m irritated. “I’m sure I’ve piqued your interest. I’ll spare you further anticipation. I’m not planning on a partnership with Bellamy.”

“You’re not?” Then what the fuck was this meeting about?

“No. I’m planning on a take-over.” And now my mother is practically glowing. She looks like she’s on the verge of a goddamned orgasm. Don’t want to go there (who would, right?), but this is exactly the kind of thing that gets Gloria Cavanaugh off. Power. Control. The business. Always, the business.

“Roger and I had a lengthy conversation. He shared with me that the only way he thinks he can save the company is to expand into the U.S. So I offered to take his daughter under my wing and show her the ropes—teach her marketing, American style.”

“I guess I don’t really see how helping Daddy’s little girl learn about boat-building over here translates into taking over his company.”

My mother laughs. There’s a gleam in her eye. I’ve seen that gleam before. It’s an I’m moving in for the kill type of gleam, and you’d better hope you’re not the prey. “It’s a guise. Roger thinks I’m doing him a favor. He trusts me. We’ve known each other for years, going all the way back to our days at Yale. On the surface, I’m an old friend helping his daughter.”

“But beneath the surface, you’re stabbing him in the back.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, darling...more like giving fresh horses to a weary cavalry. Bellamy Marine needs Cavanaugh Yacht, and Cavanaugh Yacht wants Bellamy Marine.”

“And exactly how are you planning to accomplish this take-over of a family-owned business, since you can’t buy company stocks, and as far as I know, Bellamy’s not for sale?”

“That’s where you come in, my dear.”

Cue the hairs standing up on the back of my neck.

“Portia, as you know, is a marketing executive. She’s twenty-six. Quite beautiful. And she’s single.”

She opens her blue folder and takes out a sheet of paper. On that sheet of paper is the headshot of an attractive woman, her sleek black hair cut crisply just above her shoulders. She has pale skin, fine features, dark eyes fringed with thick lashes, and she’s giving a slight smile that hints at self-confidence.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

“Don’t look so stunned, Damon. This is a win-win. I’ve thought it all through. You’re approaching thirty...you know I’ve wanted you to find an ideal match—someone suitable for you in every way—and settle down. A marriage to Portia could mean millions for Cavanaugh Yacht, and therefore, millions for you. Portia will be here for four months which should give you enough time to…how shall I put this tastefully? Bed and wed her. Bellamy and Cavanaugh will be a match made in corporate heaven.”

I can’t even think of a response that will adequately capture just how fucking insane this sounds. And how much I fucking loathe my mother at this moment.

“Portia will arrive at the beginning of next month. I’ve already made arrangements for a luxury apartment in Bar Harbor. She’ll love it there, especially after Memorial Day with the entertainment of all the tourists, and the eateries and shopping...you’ll have to introduce her to the night life...”

I open my mouth and close it. Still can’t find the words—can’t fucking focus with all the shock and rage boiling in my blood. Gloria’s going on like she’s totally oblivious to what I might be thinking, her cheeks pink with excitement like this is the best idea in the history of all ideas.

It’s just as well that I’m not responding. I know my mother, and I know that whatever I might say now, she’d shoot it down, get nasty, threaten to cut me off like she’s done before. It’s all about the business with her, and I’ve got to be smart about this. Plus, I don’t have any real reason not to give this a try, because I’m not seeing any—

And just like that, bam, it hits me. I have a possible way out. My mother’s words come back to me: You know I’ve wanted you to find someone and settle down. I need to convince my mother that I am serious about someone. There’s the issue of Gloria knowing I had a thing with Eva, but I’ll find a way around that—after I find what’s most important to my plan.

My new girlfriend.