Beckett made a point to go into the office the next day despite it being Saturday. He needed the grounding effect of being inside Morningstar’s headquarters to remind him what was important.
He couldn’t even blame what happened last night on Samara. It was all Beckett. He’d been so damn off-center since his father died, since he’d lost Thistledown, and the ground only seemed to be growing more unstable with each passing day.
No matter what Samara had said, he trusted Frank. If his friend said Lydia met his father the night he died, then it happened. She might have had appointments elsewhere, but that didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. People missed appointments all the time. He did believe that Samara didn’t know anything about that meeting. Maybe he shouldn’t, but his gut said her surprise was real, and he’d learned to trust that instinct over the years.
His gut also said Lydia had something to do with his father’s death.
It might be as benign as drinking with him and letting him get behind the wheel, but Beckett doubted it stopped there. Someone had paid the driver off and sent him out of country, and Lydia had barely waited twenty-four hours before she was trying to convince Beckett to sell the company. It was possible it was a coincidence…
But add in the shock of Nathaniel willing Thistledown to Lydia, and it was too much to explain away. There was only one person who benefited almost uniformly from Nathaniel King’s death as things stood now—and it was Beckett’s aunt.
He stepped off the elevator and froze. Walter Trissel, Morningstar’s attorney on retainer, stopped short in the doorway to his office, a plain brown box in his hands. Damn it. Beckett slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall next to the elevator, watching the man closely. “Walter.”
“Beckett.” The man went red. “I didn’t expect you in today.”
“I can see that.” He nodded at the box. “Clearing out your office?”
Walter’s red face took on a purple tone and he seemed to find the floor remarkably interesting. “I’m sorry, Beckett. I would have liked to stay on to see the changeover through, but, well, a man’s family has to eat.”
“You make over six hundred thousand dollars a year, Walter. And you’re single. Don’t treat me like an idiot.” Beckett’s eyes narrowed. “What did she offer you?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
He kept his posture relaxed through sheer force of will. Venting his frustration on Walter Trissel was like squashing a cockroach—ultimately unsatisfying. But knowing that didn’t kill the impulse. “Lydia. That is who you’re defecting to, is it not?”
“I…uh…” He drew in a breath and expelled the next sentence in a rush. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about this. I’m sorry, Beckett. But I really have to go.” Walter skittered past him and onto the elevator.
Beckett might have rolled his eyes to hear the man frantically pushing the door-close button under other circumstances, but he was too fucking furious to care. It wasn’t enough that she’d taken his childhood home, but she was going to take one of his key employees in the process?
Unless she didn’t stop at a single employee.
A slow-dawning horror had him moving through the floor that held most of the high-level offices for the company. He counted five, seven, twelve empty desks, their personal effects stripped. In the offices, he was missing his COO and his director of media relations.
He could fill the empty positions given enough time, but trying to hold everything together without missing a beat and still being ready for the bid in six days? This might not be totally impossible, but it danced cheek-to-cheek with it.
He took out his phone and considered.
What Beckett really wanted to do was call Samara. It didn’t make any sense, but he held a deep assurance that hearing her voice would settle the jagged pieces inside him. Not her job. She’d made her priorities clear enough last night, and he couldn’t exactly blame her for it. Lydia had bolstered her career and they shared a long history. He might have meant it when he offered her a job, but she didn’t know that. Jumping companies wasn’t uncommon in their field—or in any field—but if word got out that she’d jumped while they were sleeping together, it could harm her future prospects.
So, yeah, he got why his job offer had pissed her off.
But it also meant that he couldn’t call her now to help him. They might match up well in bed, but they’d be a disastrous combo outside it. She was too proud and he was up to his nose in this bullshit surrounding his father’s death. Even if they weren’t a shitty match, the timing wasn’t anywhere near close to right.
He considered his phone. The timing for romance might be off, but that didn’t mean he had to cut her off completely. She was Lydia’s second-in-command, after all. She knew things about his aunt that no one else did outside her children. If he could get Samara to see that Lydia didn’t walk on water, he stood a chance of having an inside man—or woman—at Kingdom Corp.
Excuses.
It’s a legit strategy.
Before he could think too hard about it, he pressed the call button.
Samara’s phone buzzed on the table for the fifth time in an hour, and she almost threw the damn thing across the room. All the prep work for the bid was done—had been done for days—but she had to present it, and therein lay the problem. She was fine with public speaking—better than fine. But being the one to give a presentation that so much depended on…
It needed to be perfect, which would be a whole lot easier to accomplish if everyone and their dog wasn’t trying to get ahold of her this Saturday.
Her phone trilled again, reminding her that she hadn’t dealt with this particular interruption yet. She snatched it up. “Samara Mallick.”
“Samara.” Beckett’s voice rolled through the line like the best kind of whiskey. Deep and a little rough around the edges. “How would you like a full tour of Morningstar Enterprise?”
She pulled her phone from her ear and double-checked that it was, in fact, Beckett. What’s he up to now? She’d made their respective positions pretty damn clear last night. When the sky didn’t open up and deliver her answers, she sighed. “I don’t have time to play these games with you. You might be able to flit around as you please, but some of us have to work for a living.” It wasn’t fair. She knew Beckett worked his ass off to secure contracts for the company and expand Morningstar’s influence, but driving home the difference in their roles was the only option she had to keep him at a distance.
“What would Lydia say if she knew you passed up a chance to see an unfiltered view of her biggest rival?”
She froze. She knew exactly what Lydia would say. Get your ass over there, distract him, and snoop. It sounded great in theory, but she got hung up on the distract him part. Samara knew exactly how she and Beckett got distracted. She’d already more than proven that she couldn’t keep herself in check when she was around him. Worse, she craved the way his touch stilled the rapid circling of her thoughts and cut through all the bullshit. When they were together, she wasn’t planning her next corporate move, or worrying about anticipating Lydia’s needs. She was just Samara, the woman.
That’s what made Beckett King so damn dangerous.
“Speechless?” His dark laugh took up residence in her stomach and then lower. She sank onto her couch. Damn you, Beckett.
“Never.” She bit out. There were only two options at this point. She could hang up the phone, go back to working on her presentation…or she could agree to meet Beckett and see what information she could gather. Samara doubted he intended to give her anything she could use against him, but just because that was his plan didn’t mean she had to go along with it. “What time would you like to meet?”
“Now.”
She wet her lips, trying to control the pounding of her heart. “Right now?”
“Unless you have something more important to do?”
She looked at the presentation notes spread across her living room. Several notebooks with different-colored writing, more pens than one woman should probably own, and a master timeline for the income she’d projected for Kingdom Corp. Samara closed her eyes. “You can’t just crook your finger and expect me to come running.”
“I’m not Lydia. I’m not treating you like a pet.” Something rustled in the background, and she could perfectly picture him leaning back in his chair and straightening his muscled legs. “I’ll order in lunch. Be here in an hour.” Beckett hung up, leaving her wondering if she should curse him or admire his ingenuity.
He’s got an agenda. I can’t afford to forget that.
With that in mind, she dialed Lydia. Her boss barely let the phone ring. “Is this important, Samara? I’m in the middle of something.”
“Beckett King just invited me to Morningstar Enterprise for a business lunch.”
A meaningful pause. “He’s moving fast.” Her disdain for Beckett practically oozed through the phone. As far as Samara knew, Beckett had never done anything to her boss personally. She could be wrong, but…
Still.
She straightened. “I’m confident I can gather information that will be useful.”
“I have no doubt you will do exactly that. I expect a full report Monday.” Lydia hung up.
Monday?
Samara dropped her phone onto the couch. What did Lydia think she’d be doing for the next thirty-six hours that she wouldn’t report until Monday? Her stomach lurched.
She almost called Journey, but there wasn’t anything more to say. Beckett had issued the invitation, Lydia had supported her accepting it. Overthinking things at this point wouldn’t do anything but waste more time.
Samara was ready inside of thirty minutes—a small miracle—and picked a fitted green dress that did wonders for her breasts and ass. Strictly speaking, it was a little too sexy for a business meeting, but she’d already blown the chance to keep her relationship with Beckett professional.
Not to mention, anything that gave her an edge at this point was an asset.
Sure. That’s why you’re pulling out all the stops. To distract Beckett.
It’s sure as hell not because you want to see that look of appreciation in his dark eyes.
Definitely not.