Chapter Sixteen
“Any particular plan?” Jessie eyed the crowded conference room.
Lily sympathized with her assistant’s deer-in-headlights expression. The place was filled to the brim with business types and lobbyists, the noise alone intimidating. Not to mention the fact that the men outnumbered the women twenty to one.
She could only hope she was hiding her nerves better.
Oh, and while she was hoping, might as well add her wish that the elegant red scarf she was rocking hid the telling bruise at the hollow of her clavicle, one she’d acquired last night. A recent widow CEO with a hickey wouldn’t score too many respect points.
But, good Lord, it had been worth it.
Though how a person could feel satisfied and shitty, terrified, and smug all at the same time was beyond her. But there it was. She was a roller coaster of emotion. Close to purring whenever her sated body tingled with aftershocks. Near to bawling when she looked down and caught the flash of gold squarely back on her finger.
But none of that mattered now.
This was business as usual.
Squaring her shoulders, she spoke above the mad hum. “The plan is to use this meet and greet to add at least one board member to my side. Maybe two.”
Last night, the news of Pierson’s resignation had stunned party attendees, sent shockwaves through the board, and left its members reeling and more determined than ever to choose a CEO who could offer stability and vision.
She needed to be that person for them today.
“Why not three board members?” teased Jessie.
“Three it is.” Lily had never felt more as if she could conquer the world.
“Someone ate their Wheaties this morning.”
Sure. Let’s go with that. “You take the right side,” she told Jessie. “I’ll take the left. If you see any of the names on our list send them my way. I’m hoping a little face-to-face time will settle nerves and bring them to our side.”
“Got it. Good luck.” Three steps later, Jessie and her bright red tips disappeared in the crowd.
On a slow inhale, Lily surveyed the nearby faces for one she recognized—and locked gazes with familiar arctic eyes and sinfully long lashes.
She froze in midbreath, desire roaring through her.
Alexi Kazankov stood less than twenty feet away, towering over those flocked around him, his stare locked on her.
Her body’s reaction was instantaneous—and unwelcome. Her fingers pressing against the bruise at her pulse point, her heels gliding toward him before she’d even realized what she was doing.
No, no, no. She forced her feet to still. Dropped her hand to her side.
This was not the game plan.
She’d steeled herself for this moment. Gone over in her head exactly how casual she’d behave when they saw each other.
He’d given her a beautiful gift, but it had been a one-time experience. No returns and no exchanges.
Sucking down a sharp breath, she wrenched her gaze away. The last thing she needed was for someone to notice her panting after her business rival like a dog in heat.
“Looking for your next sugar daddy, Mom?” Too late. The scent of cigars wafted over her as her least favorite person invaded her personal space. “I wouldn’t bet on Alexi Kazankov. He’s not the marrying kind and, unlike my dad, he looks like he’ll live a long time.”
Just like that, her priorities righted themselves. Because she wasn’t looking for a man to take care of her, or ease her way, or save her. This time she was betting on herself.
“This is an unpleasant surprise.” Smile fixed in place, she turned to face Paul. “What are you doing here? You were fired.”
“I’m meeting a friend for lunch.” He had to be lying. The selfish prick had no friends. “How about you? Are you meeting a friend here, too? Someone in particular, perhaps?” He smoothed his too-long tie over his rounded belly, his taunting gaze shifting between her and Kazankov. “Or are you too stupid to heed my warning and realize you’re not the only one who knows how to use sex to get what they want?”
The repeated taunt, so soon on the heels of her recent, reckless indulgence, hit a little too close to home.
Still, she refused to let a fool like Paul get to her.
“Somehow I can’t help but feel you don’t have my best interest at heart.” Smile fixed in place, she met his narrowed gaze head-on. “What’s more, I don’t like what you’re implying about Kazankov’s character or my own.”
“Who’s implying? Once a bimbo always a bimbo.”
Like the rest of the world, Paul had always believed she’d used sex to trap his dad into marrying her. Then used the same tactic to get him to give her the CEO job.
Sometimes, she wished Russell’s eldest was right. That she had been a femme-fatal puppeteer, making his dad and everyone else dance to her tune. At least that would have meant she’d been in control, the predator rather than the prey. The reality was a lot less badass.
She’d come across Russell at a high roller party Francoise had hired her out to attend. Scared, strung out, beaten down, all she’d been thinking about was getting through the night. To this day, she didn’t know exactly why Russell had pursued her, why he’d pressed his number into her palm, even when she told him no. All he would say when pushed was that she reminded him of someone.
Now, she was beginning to wonder if that someone had been important to Kazankov as well.
But all she’d known at the time was that Russell had come for her when she’d needed his help—despite the fact that she’d called from a Parisian prison in the early hours of the morning.
What’s more, he’d refused to leave French soil without her, half bullying, half cajoling the police into appointing her a proper lawyer. One who’d not only gotten her out on the grounds of self-defense but also had her record expunged.
Then, brash and pushy as always, her newfound savior had bundled her onto his private plane and offered her the deal of a lifetime: safety, security, a clean bed, and, best of all, a second chance to leave the ugliness behind. And all she had to do was clean herself up, keep his secrets, and be his trusted companion and wife.
It had seemed like the rescue she’d been waiting for her whole life. The one she hadn’t gotten with Francoise.
It wasn’t until almost a year into her marriage that she realized she’d traded one kind of prison for another.
But this time she’d stayed and grown stronger—less prey and more her own person—and, eventually, as Russell grew feebler, their marriage had changed, too. First, she’d run his personal life, dealing with doctors and medicines and the rounds of endless appointments. Then, she’d helped with the business. Best of all, she’d stopped looking for someone else to save her and started looking to herself.
It was past time Russell’s eldest understood exactly what the woman she’d become was now capable of.
“This will be my last warning.” Thankful for the heels that put them eye-to-eye, she turned to face Paul head-on. “Talk to me like that again and word of what you were doing with company funds leaks to the press. You won’t just be persona non grata in the business world, you’ll be a wanted criminal. I’m done protecting someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
His glower deepened. “You think you can just take everything away from me? Say a few words to Jim, and he’ll fall on his sword for you? That he’ll just leave me behind while you drag him down?”
Now they were getting to the heart of what was upsetting Paul.
Jim must have stood up to him since their chat at the ruined grave.
She sent the man a silent cheer.
“I’m not interested in dragging him down,” she told Paul. “I’m interested in building him up. Letting him see he doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
“Bullshit,” snarled Russell’s eldest. “He’s my brother—and he’s weak. He needs me.”
She suspected it was actually the other way around. That the seething man in front of her needed his younger brother more than he could ever admit.
Oh, Russell. So much of this is on you.
He might have saved her, but he’d wrought such destruction elsewhere, especially with his kids. But Russell was dead now and Paul was no longer a child.
“You need to stop putting Jim in the middle,” she told him. “And you need to cease all your backstabbing crap as well. You want to come after me, come after me directly.”
Surprise flared in his gaze, but it was gone in the next instance. Replaced by familiar hate. “You’re awfully certain of your ability to handle me. Especially for someone totally out of her league and about to get her ass handed to her by Alexi Kazankov.”
“Now you’re a fan of his?”
“I hate the man.”
“I would think on that reasoning alone you’d be working with me rather than undermining me every chance you got.” She sucked down a breath and tried to wrestle her anger under control. “We have a chance to turn Winslow Industries around. To see your father’s vision to fruition. You, me, and Jim. Don’t you want to prove you can do that? If for nothing else than to do what he couldn’t.”
“Nice psychology.” He studied her as if seeing her for the first time. “Pretty persuasive actually. But a little too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“How did you get rid of Pierson?”
She stilled, the sudden shift in topic startling her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. The guy was going to announce his support for me to become CEO, and now he’s gone. I know you had something to do with it. You and Kazankov.”
“He offered me the same deal. The guy was playing us all.”
Sweat beaded along Paul’s upper lip. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
He looked distraught, his hazel eyes suddenly so familiar. So like Russell’s. Her anger softened.
“Look, Paul.” She held out her hand. “It doesn’t have to be ugly between us. For Russell’s sake, we could work together and—”
“You have no idea what’s really going on here, do you?”
Her hand dropped back to her side. “What are you talking about?”
“You think you know. You think you’re finally in control. You think you can prop everybody up and be the head of the feel-good-Lily-show. But you have no idea who’s really pulling your strings.”
“You’re not making sense.”
Paul shook his head in mock sorrow, his smug gaze filled with twisted glee. “I almost feel sorry for you.”
“Now I know you’re lying,” she snapped. “You don’t feel at all.”
“You think you’re clever. But you’re not. I can’t wait to be there when you learn how fruitless this has all been.” His gaze flickered over her shoulder. “You really should have stuck to what you’re good at—parting those legs and looking pretty—but now you’ll need to be taught a valuable lesson. Pierson may be out of the picture, but I wouldn’t count me out yet.”
Before she could dig deeper, he pivoted and scurried away.
All she felt was tired.
“You okay, Armageddon?” The low, tense rasp ghosted across her skin and straight to her clit.
Nope, not tired anymore.
No wonder Paul had hightailed it away. He’d seen who was coming.