Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next morning Ally paced around the shared living room, clenching her hands. There was only an hour left before the presentation, and she’d heard a variety of noises from Vincent’s suite, none of them helping to alleviate her nervousness.
She’d barely slept, unable to shake the one-two punch of recent events. One minute her thoughts would be filled with memories about Trey, and a second later, her train of thought jumped the track over to the meeting today before it bounced to the issue of Vincent’s history in New York and the possibility her family was involved in the cover-up of a man’s death. An email had come in from the computer expert last night, saying he’d have the results for her later on today.
Trey got it in half the time, she told herself. He’s that good. Can’t expect the same from my own staff.
She walked to the desk and picked up the presentation folder for the umpteenth time, looking through the charts and graphs and double-checking the figures. The electronic part of the show was ready to go. All Vincent needed to do was push a button on his laptop to start the sequence of images.
She’d dressed smartly for the meeting, in a dark blue skirt and jacket over her white blouse. It was her standard power outfit to help her hand out the portfolios then sit in the back. After the official presentation, she’d mingle with the audience and get a read on how it’d turned out.
It’d also give her an opportunity to fix whatever Vincent managed to break.
The door opened, and Edgar walked out, wearing a brown suit—his usual attire when attending to his charge.
Behind him Vincent followed, clutching his copy of the meeting notes.
He was dressed in his neutral gray business suit, the matching tie and white dress shirt freshly pressed and immaculate. The dark hair was squeaky clean, pulled back into a neat ponytail, trimmed and cut to appear as professional as possible.
She saw the results of his late-night carousing. He looked at her, his face wet with sweat. Bloodshot eyes, taut neck muscles—the stress showing.
In another time, another place, she’d feel sorry for him.
Today, though—no mercy.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Yes. Going to knock this out of the park.” He held up the folder and smiled weakly, but his voice grew firmer with each word. “Let’s do this.”
As he walked by, she touched Edgar’s sleeve. “How late were you out?”
“Only until midnight,” he muttered. “He’ll be fine.”
She held back a biting reply, instead putting the folder into her briefcase and following the two men out.
The businesspeople sat around the varnished rosewood table, each stern face focused on Vincent and Vincent alone. She might as well have been another plush padded chair for all the attention she received as she sat in the corner.
In a way, it was a welcome relief. Too many times she’d ended up the focus of one or two eager young men who mistook her for Vincent’s secretary. This time the room was filled with older, more experienced business owners who had high expectations.
They had come to hear the company’s pitch to work on a new shopping complex. On paper, Sheldon Construction should have had the upper hand. They had been around for years, and it was a stable company with a track record of completing work on time and on budget.
But this was Las Vegas, and they’d just had a major incident on site, one resulting in death and a public relations disaster.
An expert presenter could work around it.
Ally struggled to stay still, twisting her fingers around each other until they ached.
They needed Vincent to be on point, be the best.
He wasn’t.
Ally flinched as he stumbled through the words, mixing up some figures and leaving others out. With every mistake she spotted disapproving frowns, some of the men playing with their pens and others glancing at their watches—all signs Vincent was losing their attention. The two women at the table openly scowled as he gave them a grin and a wink before launching into another bad joke.
He stepped away to wipe his wet face with his sleeve and reach for a fresh glass of water, his third so far.
Edgar shifted in the chair beside Ally, and she felt his frustration at the way things were going.
This wasn’t what they’d practiced, what they’d come to Vegas for.
She fought with herself, watching Vincent struggle. She should let him fall on his face, hold the failure up to her parents as the best proof he needed professional help, needed to step away from Sheldon Construction and get his act together. The financial loss of this deal might be enough to make it happen.
But it might not. And the company she’d worked hard to build, worked hard to maintain over the years, would bear yet more scars from her brother’s sins.
Ally stared at Vincent, catching his eye.
He paused, his forehead furrowed as he tried to interpret her look.
She stood up.
No more.
No matter how much she disliked Vincent at the moment, despised the entire damned situation, she couldn’t let Sheldon Construction stumble and fall.
She cleared her throat and moved to the front.
“Thank you, Vincent.” She patted his arm, taking the laser pointer from his trembling fingers.
Ally leaned in. “Go sit the fuck down,” she whispered.
He blinked once, twice, then walked to the back of the room.
She turned her full attention to the waiting audience. “I’ll be taking over the second half of the presentation.”
Two or three men smiled, and she resisted the urge to grin back.
Watch this.
An hour later, the men and women filed out of the room, each pausing to shake her hand on the way out. She bobbed her head, taking in the murmured praise. Finally, she closed the door, a wave of relief washing over her.
Vincent and Edgar sat in the chairs, neither moving. Vincent was on his third bottle of water, his face still wet with sweat.
“I think we got it,” she said to them, unable to keep from grinning.
“Yes,” Edgar murmured. “I sensed that as well. They were definitely reacting well to the closing.”
“No thanks to you.” Vincent levered himself up out of the chair. The half-empty bottle of water fell over, spilling onto the carpet. “What the hell were you doing, barging in there?” He pounded his chest with one fist. “You never do the presentation, never.” His face grew redder as he spoke, spittle now flying from his lips. “I had things well in hand. I’m the one who does the show, not you. You’ll be damned lucky if we even get a second nibble at this damned contract, thanks to your interference.”
The last string of patience snapped inside her.
“Damn it.” She put her hands on her hips, using all the willpower she had left to keep from yelling. “I stepped in because you were hungover and unable to keep going. Everyone in this damned room knew it.” A flash of anger fueled her words, kept them flowing without an internal censor. “You looked ready to pass out, or worse, ready to throw up all over them. I don’t care if you go out and party, but you’re supposed to get it together for something like this.”
He glared at her.
She stared back, unwilling and unable to retreat. Not this time.
“The one job you have, the one damned real job you have at this company is to do presentations like this. You came to Las Vegas specifically to pitch this deal.” She was yelling but couldn’t and wouldn’t stop. “You screwed it up because you’re an alcoholic and a gambling addict and you need professional help. My God, you might have killed a man five years ago and don’t even remember it. How can you keep on denying the truth?” She was on a roll, and there was no going back.
Edgar raised an eyebrow, a silent admonishment she knew all too well. But she felt good, invigorated by the power of her presentation.
She wasn’t going to be shushed again.
Ally drew a hand through her short hair. “I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of keeping this company together just to have you keep messing it up because you’re still a little boy who can’t figure out how to control yourself.”
She stopped as he moved forward, well within her personal space. His nose, now scarlet and bulbous, almost brushed hers as he spoke.
“Don’t you ever, ever, push me aside again. This is my company, and mine alone.” The low growl startled her, the tone alien to her ears.
An icy shard of fear slid into her gut, twisting as she stared at him.
“You think you’re so smart.” He poked her shoulder with his index finger, hard enough to push her back a step. “I go away for a few days, and you begin acting like you own the place, chewing out Capprelli’s ass and playing at being tough. Don’t you forget that Dad gave Sheldon Construction to me, not to you. It’s my name on the front door, not yours. We may be equals on the paperwork, but I’m the one in charge, as he dictated.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” she snapped back, forcing herself to stand her ground. “I’m here every day, every hour to pick up when you screw up. God knows what you did last night, but you weren’t up to doing your job this morning. What are you going to tell Henry if we lose the contract? That you were too hungover to make sense? Or are you going to pass the blame to someone else, refuse to take responsibility yet again?” The words came out before she could censor them. “Like in New York City?”
It was a gamble, one she was willing to take to see his reaction.
He pulled his fingers into a fist as he stepped back, quivering with rage.
Edgar’s eyes went wide.
He moved up and took hold of Vincent’s elbow.
Vincent slowly uncurled his hand, his eyes narrowed as he glared at her.
“If we lose the contract, I’ll tell him you overstepped your boundaries. You interfered with Capprelli, and you brought in an outsider, compromising this company. It’s all on you.” He looked at Edgar. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I need a drink.”
He pushed by Ally, sending her reeling to one side. He flung the door open and stomped out.
Edgar paused. “He’s fine. Just needs a hot meal and a nap.”
“He needs more than that.” She leaned against the wall. “God, how did it become this bad?”
The older man sighed, and she saw the years weighing on him, the constant micromanagement taking its toll on the old warrior. “Because we let it. I’ll take care of him.”
Vincent re-appeared in the doorway. He pointed at her, his finger trembling.
“This is all that asshole’s fault. He put these ideas in your head, made you do this. I’m going to go show him who’s boss, who’s the top man here.”
“What? No.” She grabbed his arm. “Trey has nothing to do with this. If you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at me.”
“I can do both.” He yanked his arm away and walked out. Edgar gave her a warning look before leaving after him.
Her cell phone rang, keeping her from following.