Instructing an Heiress (16 page)

Why bully her so strongly, almost...desperately, to get compliance?

Kazners was all she knew. Threatening to take it from her was good leverage, but it was also a huge risk. If she hadn't taken the bait, the loss to him would have been just as great, if not greater.
 

The Captain had always told her the company would be hers someday. His scientists had taught her all the formulas for their herbal support remedies, his lawyers had coached her in negotiates and corporate law, she'd even gone on buying trips with his purchasers. Why would he risk losing that investment on the whim of wanting great-grandchildren? It wasn't like him to choose sentiment over business.
 

She studied the greenhouse. Even his hobby had a greater purpose. A lot of the new plant breeds he spliced together contributed to the patented formulas of Kazners'. The Captain never did anything without a reason. What if he never
said
anything without a reason, too?

Something bigger was at stake. Something he'd probably hinted at in a way that she just wasn't seeing.

CK wracked her brain to recall any other piece of information he might have accidentally revealed that day in the garden. Anything that had seemed odd or out of place....

Her eyes widened. "Jamison," she said.

"What's that?"

"Jamison," she said, excitedly. "That day in the garden, you mentioned 'that fool Jamison.' It was so out of left field and I was so angry at you, I brushed it off. But now.... Now, I'm not so sure."

The Captain brought the flower cluster to his nose and sniffed it. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It was in all the papers. That story about the Jamison heiress renouncing her inheritance. The article mentioned that her father was going to search for someone he could groom to take over his company. You got all uppity and said that there was no replacement for family when you were running a family business."

"I take exception to the description of uppity," the Captain said, giving her a sharp look. "What I said was, there are some family businesses that can't run without family. That without family, those kinds of businesses are disposed of, the proceeds given to charity, and that's the end of it."
 

CK recalled the conversation quite clearly and was about to argue with him when she noticed him violently twirling the flower, obviously agitated. She closed her mouth and studied her grandfather. "Yes," she said cautiously. "I remember, now."

He stared hard at her. "I also commented, with regards to the Jamison case of course, that sometimes there are legal reasons for nondisclosure at the
heart
of the matter and that the hands of those responsible are often tied." He puffed out his mustache and glared down his nose at her.
 

CK quelled her rising irritation at this frustrating game. She would stay calm and get to the bottom of this if it killed her. "The heart of what matter?"

"Of my matter!"

CK rubbed her temple. "I see."

The Captain threw down the flower and slammed his fist onto the arm of the rocker. "No you don't see, by thunder," he shouted. "The heart, the heart, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Can you?" CK asked, struggling to control her own temper.
 

"Of course I can't, I—" He tore off another flower and pitched it to the floor vigorously. "That conniving old fool. By Zeus, this nonsense will drive me to drink!"
 

The Captain sucked in an impatient breath, his face had turned an alarming shade of red. "The devil take it," he finally blustered. "I have a damned heart condition. Is that clear enough for you? Daft new generation. This is what texting has done to this country. Can't understand subtlety, anymore! Have to say things flat out to be understood."

Everything inside her went still. "What kind of heart condition?"

He waved his hand in the air in a dismissive motion. "Some nonsense called atrial fib-ri something or other. Ridiculous. I feel fine. But now that damned Winston pesters me twice a day with pills and hovers around me like a blasted mother hen."
 

Leaning forward, he jabbed his finger at her. "The point is, Seaman—"
 

His expression suddenly drooped and a deep sadness soaked his gaze. Sagging back into his chair, he rubbed his hand over his jaw and stared at the bright puffs of yellow flowers lying crushed on the floor.
 

A deep, cold fear gripped CK.
 

"The point is, I might not have much longer and there are certain legal details that must be fulfilled or terrible things will happen," he said, gruffly. "Which is a great deal more than I'm allowed to say on the matter, so expect me to deny everything."

Her stomach clenched. "What do you mean?"

Some of his fire flared back into his eyes. "The blasted pump's finally giving up the ghost, is what I mean, and you have to get married before it does. Pay attention."

"That's ridiculous. You're in perfect health." She couldn't accept this. She wouldn't. Nobody as robust and ornery as her grandfather could ever.... Her throat tightened.

"Don't argue with me, young lady. I have no say so. On either count."

He gave a rough, barking cough and yanked the newspaper away from her. Snapping it open, he lifted it, creating a wall between them. "You'll want to arrive early on Saturday," he said from behind the barrier. "I expect you to personally attend to our guests."
 

*
 
*
 
*

CK wandered back to the kitchen in a daze. Ryan sat at the table finishing what appeared to be a roast beef sandwich.
 

"Winston ordered me back here," he said around the bite he'd just taken. His gaze sharpened. "You okay?"

She plopped down in the chair across from him. "Not really."

Ryan got up and fixed her a cup of coffee. CK wrapped her hands gratefully around the warm mug and stared into its creamy depths. Her grandfather had practically raised her. How could she stand to lose him?

"Spill," Ryan ordered, sliding the plate of neatly cut and stacked sandwiches toward her.
 

CK looked at the plate and shook her head. Food was the last thing she wanted right now. "The Captain has a heart condition. He's dying."

He watched her, worry and concern drenching his expression. "I'm sorry."

Tears pressed into an aching lump in her throat and then rose up, filling her eyes. "I...there's something else, too." She blinked rapidly and sipped her coffee, buying time to compose herself. "I think he's under some kind of gag order."

"About what?"

"Something about the company and passing ownership down? It was all very cryptic and I'm not sure I really understood the subtleties. But I think...I think that without a married Kazner heir to inherit the company, the whole thing..." She swallowed. "Goes up in smoke."

"That sounds a bit fantastic," he said.

"His father, my great-grandfather, was a creative genius. Eccentricity and paranoia came with the territory."

"He founded Kazners, right?"

"At the beginning of the last century. He was twenty-one when he started the company. My grandfather was born a year later."

"Any other kids?"

"Two, a girl and a boy. I don't know that side of the family, though. The Captain's brother didn't get along with their father. He ran away and became a musician, I think. His sister married and had a couple kids, but died years ago."

"Is it possible your great-grandfather made a will stating the first born and only the first born could inherit the company? If he wanted that condition to persist, he would have made marriage a contingency. In the nineteen hundreds he'd have assumed children would be the natural outcome of marriage."

A feeble smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "The Captain still thinks that way."

"I have to agree with him." Ryan brushed crumbs off his hands. "Don't look so astonished. I happen to have some old fashioned ideas when it comes to bringing kids into this world. Ideas like marriage."

"You're a fake, Anderson. Underneath that bumblebee demeanor lies a knight in shining armor."

"You're over thinking it, C. I'm as shallow as I ever was."

She smiled at the use of the old nickname he had for her. "Even you have standards, is that right?"

"That's harsh." He picked up another half sandwich from the plate. "You told him you weren't going to go along with a hundred-year-old contingency clause, right?"
 

Her momentary pleasure turned to ash. "Not exactly."

"Uh, oh. You have an unsettling mixture of guilt and determination on your face. You're not thinking of going along with this, are you?"

"I can't lose Kazners."

"And we're back to that," he said, disgust in his voice.

"No. It's not because Kazners is all I have." She looked down into her coffee, feeling the weight of three generations bearing down on her. "It's because I'm all Kazners has."

"And Kazners is all your grandfather has," he said, his voice tense.

She nodded. "If I lost it, I think the shock would kill him."

Ryan reached out and covered her hand with his. His touch was warm and solid. An electric shiver ran up her arm making her pulse quicken.
 

She'd promised herself they could only be friends, but she still wanted to pull him toward her and kiss him. She wanted to run her hands over the muscles of his chest. She wanted to feel him wrapped around her, skin to skin; heart to heart. She wanted him to be a part of her life forever.

But what she needed was someone to marry her. Despite all his talk about standards, Ryan couldn't meet that need for her.

"CK, please don't do this," he said, quietly.

"I don't have a choice." She slid her hand out from under his and did her best to ignore how cold she felt.

Pulling in a breath, she met his gaze squarely. "Since I'm not engaged, you're still under contract, Anderson. I expect your help in this."
 

The accusation and disappointment in his eyes lashed out at her, stinging her soul. She held steady, telling herself she had to be brave. She had to stay the course.
 

"Real help," she added, her voice rough with unshed tears. "This time, I need results."

His heart ached and he couldn't make it stop.

Ryan paced across the expanse of his office and back to his desk. CK was holed up with Junior and a pack of lawyers, again. The whole week they'd been negotiating like that and it was driving him crazy.
 

He couldn't believe she was going through with this. There had to be a way out, but without a copy of the Will, even Brad hadn't been able to come up with anything and he was one of the best litigation lawyers on the West coast.

Shoving his hand through his hair, Ryan stared blindly out at the city. She deserved so much more than a business deal for a husband.

She deserved a marriage like his parents'. Dad still made Mom giggle when they were out in the kitchen, for God's sake.

Having someone like that in your life, someone who was there for you in sickness and health, 'til death do you part; that was worth fighting for.
 

CK had given up. She was marrying Steve and from what he could put together, planning on announcing it at the ball. If she didn't care about her own happily ever after, why the hell should he?

A deep, empty sorrow pressed down on him and he pushed it away. After Saturday, his obligation to CK was finished. He would not stay around and watch the fire slowly die in her as she muddled through a loveless marriage.
 

Ryan grabbed his phone off his desk and dialed the airport.
 

*
 
*
 
*

CK told herself she was relieved Ryan had enlisted his friends to help her prepare for the charity ball instead of doing it himself. He'd been cold and abrupt with her the last few days and she really didn't want to be around him.
 

That, plus the strain of working day and night to find a loophole in her great-grandfather's Will was taking its toll on her. Her emotions were so close to the surface, she felt she might break if someone so much as said 'boo' to her.

At least the crazy antics of 'The Boys,' as she had come to think of them, had kept despair at bay that afternoon and distracted her from thinking about the future.
 

Dropping her packages on the floor of Ryan's empty apartment, she collapsed into her favorite chair, a modern, angled piece that she knew was more comfortable than it looked. It had been a long, awkward day after a series of hard, fruitless ones, but they'd finally done it. They'd found the perfect dress. One that met her strict requirements of not slutty, but still made The Boys' mouths drop open.

She kicked off her Zanotti flats and curled her legs up under her so that she could rub the bottom of her feet. The poor things were feeling very abused.

From the kitchen, Jackson grinned at her while he started a pot of coffee. "Feelin' girlie enough, yet?"

"You bet. My feet hurt from all the shopping."

His teeth flashed against his dark skin and he gave a warm chuckle.
 

In the chair next to her, Ajax rooted through one of his bags. After a moment, he pulled out a little pink hat set off with multi-colored fake gem stones. Setting it on his mop of curls, he reached back into the bag for the shoe box.

She eyed the hat with distaste. "Please tell me that's not for me."
 

Brad's face squinted up into a comical mixture of amazement and appalled fascination. "God, I hope not."

"Definitely not yours," Todd said.

As they watched, Ajax lifted out the pink Jimmy Choo pumps he'd apparently bought when no one was looking and started to put them on.

Brad cleared his throat. "Who needs a beer?"

Male hands shot into the air and he headed for the kitchen; a little hastily CK thought, with amusement.