Читать книгу Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir / Jealousy & a Jewelled Proposition: Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir - Paula Roe, Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 7

One

Wealth and power hung in the expansive boardroom, permeating every cherrywood panel, every thread of the tightly woven carpet underfoot.

The huge panoramic windows played right into that powerful aura, offering an unobstructed view of Sydney’s CBD to the right, the curved dome of the historical Queen Victoria Building to the left. Subtle track lights highlighted the boardroom table where one woman and three men were rising to their feet. Jake Vance recognised each in turn: Kimberley Perrini; her husband, Ric, and current CEO of Blackstone Diamonds; Ryan Blackstone, Chief Financial Officer; and Garth Buick, the company secretary.

Jake had stood in the same spot days ago.

At that time, the room had been tense with stunned denial after his little bombshell. Despite that, it was too good a coincidence for Kimberley to pass up; he’d seen the burning curiosity in her shaken expression. Now, judging by the shell-shocked looks, they obviously had their proof.

Finding out your previously dead brother was very much alive was a life-changing event, even if that bit of gossip had been press fodder for months. But when that brother stood to gain a substantial chunk of the Blackstone fortune…

He swallowed bitterly. This wasn’t in his ten-year plan. Making his first million, breaking into the U.S. market, giving back to his mother’s favourite causes, yes. Even, eventually, a wife and kids. But not this. Not becoming Australia’s walking, talking answer to the freakin’ Lindbergh baby.

“James…Jake?” Kimberley Perrini said tentatively, obviously confused about how to proceed. He gave a curt nod and remained silent as she settled for sitting at the table. He noticed her crisp business suit, the efficient pulled-back hair, the air of sophistication and privilege radiating out as if she’d been born into it.

He shoved the uncharacteristic bitterness away and instead focused on his game plan—detecting weakness.

It was awkward, this first face-to-face meeting with his sister. His sister, for God’s sake. He ignored the deeper implication and completed his study. The similarities between Kimberley and Ryan were obvious: dark hair with that widow’s peak, green eyes. But where hers held optimistic caution, Ryan Blackstone’s were full of outright hostility. It was in every smell that infused the ostentatious room, every movement and gesture the man made in his thousand-dollar suit.

Jake glanced over the table to where Garth Buick sat. The two younger men, Ric and Ryan, were on their feet behind him, as if standing gave them a psychological advantage.

Jake had used that tactic many times before.

“We had April Kellerman’s documents analysed, as well as those DNA tests,” Ric Perrini said now, indicating Jake should take a seat.

“And?” Jake sat and Ric and Ryan followed suit.

“It appears that you are James Hammond Blackstone.”

As one, they released a collective breath and the expectant hush in the room fanned out, spreading like a blanketing drift of snow. The air was just as chilly, with most of the freeze coming from the two men who had battled for the CEO’s position after Howard’s death.

Jake steeled his features to betray nothing. Emotion meant vulnerability, which meant your enemies had a weakness they could exploit. Show nothing, reveal nothing.

“So Howard was right all along,” Kimberley finally said.

Ric shrugged. “Looks like it.”

She frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but Ryan interrupted.

“We asked you here to discuss a few things. One, your plans for Blackstone’s.” Ryan’s even tone belied the storm in his eyes. “And we’d like to make an offer for your shares.”

Jake stifled his surprise. Interesting. Business first. “I’m not selling.”

“You haven’t heard our bid.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Listen, Vance. If this is about payback or revenge—”

“Why would it?” Jake raised one eyebrow.

The men glanced at each other, regrouping. Finally Kimberley said slowly, “See it from our side. You and Quinn Everard are close. There’s been a long history of animosity between him and Howard—”

Jake smiled, an action he knew would throw them off balance. “Not my problem. I’m sure you’ve had me researched. So you know I never let personal feelings stand in the way of a business decision.”

“What about Jaxon Financial?” Ric asked.

Jake paused, letting the barb sink in without showing it’d hit a sore spot. “That was over eight years ago. And it wasn’t my company.”

“But you were accused of insider trading,” Ryan probed, his astute eyes unwavering.

Jake eased back in the leather chair and stretched his legs out, a calculated show of nonchalance. “Accused. Not charged.”

“You lost millions. The CEO fired you.”

“And I returned the favour eighteen months later when I bought them out. Look, we can go over my chequered history for hours, but it doesn’t change the facts. The way I see it, you have two choices. Fight me for the claim, which would tie us up in court for years, and see the shares plummet. Or work with me on this. Blackstone’s has a problem. Besides the press leak you’ve failed to plug, the company has been floundering since Howard’s death. Share prices are dropping. The power struggle between you—” he nodded at Ric “—and you,” then Ryan, “is unsettling the board, not to mention your shareholders. They’re getting antsy.”

“How do you know that?” demanded Ryan.

“I make it my business to know.” Before Ryan could interject, Jake held up a hand. “I plan to fix that.”

“Why?” Ryan asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Because I can.”

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant. Like it or not, Howard made me a beneficiary. You’re worried about Blackstone’s collapsing? I can fix it. It isn’t personal. It’s business.”

“So this is all just business to you?” Kimberley asked softly.

“Well, it’s certainly not about family bonding.”

He didn’t miss her brief flash of dismay as her eyes met Ric’s briefly.

“So what’s your plan?” Ric said smoothly.

Jake sized him up. Ric Perrini looked hard, with a reputation to match. He’d been Howard’s surrogate son, the only one deemed worthy to take over Blackstone’s. The man probably felt threatened. Hell, they all did.

Hardly surprising. Jake traded on his unpredictable reputation; it sent fear and respect into the hearts of his adversaries and made them careless.

That’s how he won.

He looked back to Kimberley, who’d been staring at him in silence. When he met her sharp green eyes, she refused to look away.

“You’re the spitting image of Howard,” she said now.

Thrown by such a personal comment, Jake frowned. He wasn’t sure she meant that in a good way, either. Should he thank her? Ignore it? He opted for the simplest approach.

“Blackstone genes.”

Kim hesitated. “You know we all thought Howard was out of his tree about you,” she finally said. “I just can’t believe you’re actually alive.”

He lifted his eyebrows and gave her a small, wry smile. “In the flesh.”

Kim paused, a moment too long.

“You have something to say,” Jake said calmly. “Just go ahead and say it.”

“Don’t you have questions about the family?” she asked curiously. “About Howard? Sonya? Vince?”

“Not particularly. I have a very efficient research department.”

“So where have you been for the last thirty years?” Ryan asked tightly.

“Queensland first. Then when I was about ten, South Australia.”

“And?” Kim prompted. Jake let them dangle for a few seconds before conceding, “I was kidnapped by Howard’s housekeeper and her boyfriend. Two months after the ransom note, around midnight, their car crashed into the Lindon River, five kilometres north of—”

“Newcastle, yes, we’ve read the police report,” Ryan interrupted. “Everyone assumed you’d drowned in the crash and floated out to sea.”

“April Kellerman was driving by when the car crashed. She pulled me free.”

“And kept you.”

The scorn in Ryan’s voice sent a fierce surge of protectiveness straight to Jake’s chest. “Don’t judge what you don’t know,” he warned softly, piercing the younger man with a steely look.

Silence abruptly fell.

“We need to know more if we’re to prepare a press release,” Kim finally said, then paused as a shadow passed over his features. “You don’t trust us.”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“That’s a nice attitude to have,” Ryan muttered.

Jake raised one eyebrow. “I’m not the one with the press leak.”

Ryan tensed as Perrini said, “You know the press will fill in the blanks with whatever they can find, true or not.”

“I know.”

Despite a thorough going over, Jake was determined not to give anything away under everyone’s searching eyes. Kim’s small sigh a few seconds later was the only indication he’d won. Won what? The victory came with a surprisingly bitter taste.

“Your birthdate is wrong,” Kim said finally.

“Excuse me?”

“James was born on the fourth of August, 1974, which makes you thirty-four this year. Your official bio—as Jake Vance—had you celebrating your thirty-fifth birthday on the first of September.”

He knew that they were just numbers on a bit of paper. That it didn’t mean squat. Despite his cold logic, a small lick of helplessness bloomed in the pit of his belly. In a nanosecond, cold anger flooded in to douse it.

Anger that was unjustified. Anger that actually shamed him. Blaming a dead woman would solve nothing.

Outwardly he shrugged. “So I’m a Leo instead of a Virgo.”

Ryan’s snort of dark amusement echoed in the quiet room, one that twitched Jake’s mouth in all-too-brief humour.

Then Garth rose and withdrew a piece of paper from a folder. “As Howard’s first born, you are now the recipient of a considerable amount of wealth.” The man handed the paper to Jake. “You know about the third of Howard’s shares—fifty-one percent divided equally between you, Ric and Ryan. You also own Howard’s Vaucluse mansion, Miramare, although Sonya Hammond was given the right to reside there for the rest of her life. The remainder of Howard’s assets—personal investments, artworks, cash—are now divided between yourself and Ryan.”

Jake studied the details in silence, pausing only to chance a glance at Kimberley. Even Howard’s rumored lover, Marise Davenport-Hammond, had come away with a seven-figure sum, yet for his eldest daughter, the wife of his surrogate son Ric Perrini, nothing. Worse, he’d publicly and privately humiliated her with the gifting of his Bondi beach house to Ryan, a house where her mother had drowned.

He had to hand it to Kimberley—she met his scrutiny head on, the cool green gaze a study in calm.

Garth continued. “There’s also an article that stipulates three Blackstones must sit on the board—at the moment it’s Kimberley, Ryan and Vincent Blackstone, Howard’s brother.”

“I’m not after a board position.”

“We’re not giving you one. Yet,” Ric said, matching his cool reply. “But Vince has his own life and is making noises about retiring.” He studied Jake’s face. “And it all depends on what you decide.”

“It’s too early to make a decision.”

“So just how are you planning to help the company?” Ryan asked tightly.

Jake gave him the once-over, only mildly surprised when the younger man, just like his sister, refused to break eye contact.

These Blackstones were tough.

“First, I need to get up to speed with all aspects of Blackstone Diamonds, starting with the financials and corporate structure. Then, I’ll hold a meeting with the board and shareholders to reassure them of my commitment.”

“Are you planning to commit?” Ric asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Or are you going to break up the company after the shares stabilise?”

“How can I? I don’t have a controlling interest.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

Jake studied Ric Perrini with renewed respect. If it came down to a vote, Matt Hammond held ten percent of the shares and had already pledged his support in Jake’s favour. But that was purely because the man hated the Blackstones.

Jake didn’t know these people. But he’d been in similar situations, ones that involved family, tradition and high emotion. You had to tread lightly. Be diplomatic. Get them onside with a small truth, at least.

“For now, I’m committed.”

“That’s not good enough,” Garth snapped. “Howard built Blackstone’s up from nothing. He wasn’t a saint but he loved this company. He put his life into it, making it a successful, international brand name. His wish was to see that continue—with his family at the helm.” The older man thumped the table with a clenched fist for emphasis. “After all these years, he never stopped believing you were alive somewhere. Even refused to put up a gravestone in your name. That’s how damned stubborn and committed he was. And look—he was right. Don’t you think you owe his memory—your family—more than a ‘for now’?”

The impassioned speech made as much impact on Jake’s composure as a feather on steel. He’d heard it all before, seen enough pleading, threatening and bargaining to not let it matter.

He held Buick in a cool stare until the older man let out a disgusted snort and settled back in his chair.

“A DNA test doesn’t make a bunch of strangers suddenly family,” Jake said calmly, ignoring the way Kim’s face paled. “I don’t like this any more than you do. Make no mistake—this isn’t about some newly discovered paternal ties to Howard Blackstone. I don’t want or need the complication.”

“So why are you doing it?” Ryan asked.

Jake smiled thinly. “To make money.”

“You’re a billionaire. How much more do you need?” Kim asked, her eyes astute.

Way too personal. Jake crossed his arms and met her gaze head-on. “Take my offer or not. You’re quite welcome to maintain the status quo and let that press leak go unfound, watch the stock plummet, the shareholders pull out…”

“Or take our chances with you,” Ric finished.

“Yep.”

He rose to give them their thinking time and strode over to the cabinet to pour a glass of water. Unmindful of the hushed discussion at the other end of the room, he sipped slowly as he gazed upon the magnificent view of Sydney stretched in front of him, fixing on the familiar blue neon of his AdVance Corp across the bay, a physical manifestation of eight years’ hard work.

He’d expected softer edges after Ryan’s recent marriage, but the man’s glare indicated a strong will. And, if the reports were true, an even stronger desire to prove himself in the face of Howard Blackstone’s obvious preference for Ric Perrini. Just the sort of family infighting that jeopardised smart business decisions—which would, ironically, make his decision to keep them at arm’s length that much easier.

For a week he’d immersed himself in this family—their history, their investments, even the salaciously unreliable gossip. He might be related to them on paper, but loyalty had to be earned. There were only four people in the world he trusted: His secretary. His chief of security. Quinn, who had voiced multiple warnings to watch his back. And his mother.

He didn’t miss the irony. For someone with deep trust issues, he’d placed it with a woman who’d been living a lie.

“OK,” Ric said at length. “Under one condition.”

Jake turned his back to the window, placing his glass on the cabinet. “Which is?”

“No official announcements until we’re good and ready.”

Jake quirked an eyebrow. “And your reasoning is…?”

“You. The speculation alone will be enough to drop stock prices.”

He smiled humourlessly. “And it conveniently stops anything from leaking out…unless one of you is the source.”

Ryan visibly bristled, but Kim put a hand on his arm. “Your identity stays with us until we all agree on where and when to announce it,” she said smoothly. “Not even the assistant we’ve assigned to you knows.”

Great. A company mouthpiece to spout the latest platitudes about Blackstone’s.

“Have you informed your solicitors and the private investigator?” Jake asked.

“We’ve called the P.I. off,” Ric said.

Jake nodded. “So let’s see what I can dig up on this leak before we start making anything official. A week, maybe two, should do it.”

“Once people start seeing you here, it’ll be hard to avoid speculation,” Kimberley said.

“Which is why we’ve given you an office on the executive floor. Limited access. High security,” Ric added.

“I don’t need an office. But I will need complete access to your records.”

“It’s already done.” Bitterness tinged Ryan’s words. How much had it cost him to agree to that? For a brief second, Jake almost felt sorry for him. It disappeared when Ryan fixed him with a cold glare. He saw the enmity written in every muscle on the man’s face.

“The only people who know the truth are family,” Kimberley added.

Family. Jake’s gut tightened at the word, but outwardly he just nodded.

“Vince will want to meet you,” Kim said. “He’s—”

“Howard’s brother. Runs an opal mine in Coober Pedy. Lives in Adelaide and owns a ten-percent share. He’s currently in the States on business.”

“He’s your uncle,” Kim added calmly. “Then there’s Sonya.”

Jake heard the warmth in her voice, saw the emotion that briefly softened Kim’s expression before she blinked it away.

An unfamiliar burst of injustice slammed into him, rendering him momentarily speechless. Sonya Hammond was a mother figure to these people. She was important.

He took a breath, quickly recovering with, “It’s not necessary.”

By the look on Kim’s face he knew his response fell far short of acceptable. Well, hell. This wasn’t exactly his dream situation, either.

Perrini said, “You’ll have access to the internal filing and e-mail systems, plus a master key card to the building.” He punched a number into the phone. “You understand that no files can leave the building, nor are there to be any unauthorised copies made.”

“Naturally,” Jake said smoothly.

Ric continued. “The elevator on the far right is executive use only. It takes you to the basement, so there’ll be no chance meetings with other staff. Your assistant, Holly McLeod, is outside.”

I guess this means the meeting’s over. “I’ll need the current financials.”

“I’ll send them up,” Ryan said curtly. He was the first to rise, striding over to the door and yanking it open. “Welcome to Blackstone’s.”

Holly McLeod waited as everyone exited the boardroom. Ryan, Ric and Garth were deep in discussion as they strode to the elevator. Nothing new there. They lived and breathed Blackstone Diamonds.

Then Jake Vance emerged and the seriousness of her predicament flipped her stomach.

It’s nervousness. That’s all.

He spotted her and gave a brief, humourless smile. “Miss McLeod.”

Her softly murmured name tripped a breath of warm anticipation over her skin, one she quickly covered up by straightening the file in her arms. “Mr Vance—” she held out her hand “—I’m Holly McLeod. I’m to be your assistant for the duration of your stay.”

When his long fingers wrapped around hers, her skin heated with the contact. It wasn’t power he so clearly exuded. It was something much more seductive. Confidence? Control?

Intimacy.

The way his sharp green gaze swept her from head to toe, taking in her hair, her face, her business suit. The way those eyes probed hers until they finally came to rest on the small diamond solitaire at her throat.

She swallowed, withdrew and offered a key card, carefully avoiding his hand. “This will give you access to all the floors, plus the basement car park. You’ve been allocated a parking space for as long as you’re with Blackstone’s. I’ll show you to your office now, if you like.”

“No.”

Holly blinked. “Sir?”

“It’s Jake. I’m not staying.” He stuck his hand in his suit jacket, pulled out a mobile phone and flipped it open. Without a second glance, he pocketed it. “You can give me a rundown of the company history in the car. Get the financials from Ryan Blackstone and I’ll meet you in the basement.”

She hesitated as he made short work of the corridor with his long, devouring strides. So he didn’t want to view his domain, cast an all-encompassing powerful eye over the magnificent Sydney view. Of course. He had the mirror image from his North Sydney complex. Still, she’d anticipated questions, pulled all the relevant files and promotional material and put them on his desk. She’d made tentative meetings with department heads.

“Keep up, Miss McLeod,” Jake said curtly as he pressed the elevator button.

Holly quickly regrouped and moved forward, apprehension giving way to irritation in the face of his cool perusal. “You’re not authorised to remove files from the building, Mr Vance,” she said shortly, refusing to flinch as his sharp eyes met hers. “But I’ll go and personally make sure they’re delivered up to your temporary office.”

He scrutinised her with all the skill of a pro, but she returned his look steadily. Oh, I know how you work, Mr Midas Touch. The stare-down was part of his strategy, along with an emotionless, layout-the-facts style that most men grudgingly admired, despite his ruthless reputation. Men wanted to be him; women just wanted him. Period.

She pushed the elevator button repeatedly, tightening her grip on her file so it crushed up against her breasts like protective armour. “I think now’s a good time to discuss how you’d like to work while you’re here.”

He frowned. “I don’t expect you to be performing any personal assistant duties. I already have one.”

“Holly is a wealth of information about Blackstone’s. We’re fortunate to have her,” Kimberley said, from behind them. Holly ducked her gaze guiltily at the unexpected praise as Kim continued. “Make use of her expertise and gather as much knowledge as you can before deciding to invest with us.”

Holly felt a confusing frisson of adversarial tension crackle between these two, like an argument was in the cards in the next two seconds. She’d never seen Kimberley be anything except utterly polite and professional, even to people she disliked.

Jake Vance, on the other hand, chose to do as he pleased, courtesy be damned.

“I need to speak to you later, Jake,” Kimberley said pointedly.

“I can fit you in tomorrow.”

“I’m flat out with Fashion Week but I can find time. I’ll let Holly know.” She gave up on the elevator and reached for the fire stairs door.

Jake turned to Holly when the door clicked shut, his face a study in controlled irritation. “It looks like I have myself an assistant, Miss McLeod.” She blinked as he added, “As to how I work, it’s quickly. I ask questions. You answer them. Simple.”

She straightened her spine. “Do you have an agenda? A deadline or time frame that—”

“I plan on this taking no more than a week, ten days at the most. Every morning I’ll decide on our timetable and we’ll take it from there. I expect you to start work at eight and stay until everything that needs to get done is done. You need to work around my schedule and be available at my North Sydney office. Do you have other work commitments?”

She shook her head. “You’re my first priority.”

Holly watched in fascination as his sensuous mouth thinned, almost as if he were holding something back. His eyes, on the other hand, glittered for one second before he glanced away. “Let’s start with the building layout and other assets.” As if on cue, the doors pinged open and he swept his hand forward, indicating she go first.

“Our ground level is secured with high-end technology and a security desk, as you’ve seen,” Holly began as they descended. “No employee gets in without their ID and a walk though the scanners. Visitors must be signed in and accompanied by an employee.”

“What about the Blackstones themselves?”

“All executives are located on the forty-third floor with the rest of the board, and use this private elevator. Finance is on the thirty-fifth floor, PR on the twentieth. We also have an employee-only gym and health club, child-care center and cafeteria. We own the whole building, including the grand ballroom, shop fronts, bar and three restaurants that cover the ground, first and second floors facing George Street. Our employees get generous discounts at these and we have a standing table for executive use at each restaurant. We occasionally rent out our ballroom to other companies. Last year it was the B&S and Make a Wish Charity Ball.”

She held out a glossy brochure that she’d helped design, one that detailed the building’s facilities. He just glanced at it, then back at her.

“No company propaganda. I prefer facts.”

Right. Feeling as if she’d failed some kind of test, she tucked the offending material back into her folder. Take a breath, Holly. Work out your strategy and stick with it.

“The rest of the floors are taken up by HR, the press room and our other divisions.”

“Which are?”

“Blackstone Jewellery, International Sales, Mining, Crafting and Design, Legal. I have a fact sheet of the departmental hierarchy and breakdown.”

“I’ll need that e-mailed.”

She nodded and fixed her eyes on the descending numbers.

Jake crossed his arms and studied her profile before ending at the low, elegant sweep of dark hair that brushed past her ears and up into a stylish ponytail.

An unexpected stab of lust hit him low and hard, but with practised ease he stuffed it back. Still, it didn’t stop his gaze from tripping back over her in leisurely study, taking in the navy suit that cinched in her waist, the V-neck shirt revealing a creamy throat adorned with one simple diamond on a gold chain. Down farther, her legs were encased in navy pants, ending in a pair of absurdly high sandals.

He found himself staring at those feet, the nails painted a subtle peach with the second toe sporting a diamond stud toe ring.

When she shifted the file in her arms and glanced over at him, he suddenly realised he’d been staring at the woman’s feet.

He snapped his eyes up to meet hers and it hit him again. It wasn’t the curve of her lips, nor the way her blue eyes tilted up at the corners. It was the tiny birthmark on the left side of her mouth, like some artist had painted it on to tease and tempt. To focus a man’s attention.

A prime kissing target.

When she glanced away, her profile oozed cool professionalism. So why did that calm facade annoy him?

Jake was used to all the tricks when it came to business, but this was definitely a twist. They could’ve given him any old assistant, yet this gorgeous brunette’s presence meant they’d obviously read the reports about Mia.

She was here not only to spy but to distract.

He scowled as his phone rang again. Expert, was she, held in high regard by Blackstone’s? That was enough to give him pause.

He’d learned from his mistakes. If they thought a pair of cat’s eyes and a kissy-mole would divert him from his purpose, they had another think coming. The press called him Mr Midas Touch, the bad boy of business, and if the Blackstones wanted an unfair fight, they would find out how bad he could be.