Rise of the Notorious (4 page)

Grant only continued to smile as he turned his attention back to the city, wondering if he should ask her why she had called specific members of the family together for this meeting. Though he wasn’t sure if she would even tell him the truth; it seemed she was keeping a lot of things closer to the vest these days.

“Dad’s ashes arrived back from the crematory this morning,” he began, keeping his eyes glued to the view outside. “The urn is in my office. I didn’t know what you had planned for it.”

Madison sighed, fighting to ignore the irritating ache she felt at the mention of their father. “Why don’t you keep the ashes? You’re more sentimental about that sort of thing than I am.”

He nodded, acknowledging her point. “Have you heard anything more from the police about the drugs or who may have tampered with them?”

“No.” She bristled, annoyed because she still did not have any answers to give on the odd circumstances of their father’s suicide. The police had been reluctant to do an investigation, given that no crime had technically been committed. But the family needed to know what had happened to Win Vasser—even if his suicide had been his own, lucid choice. They still deserved the truth.

Because Grant could sense she didn’t want to discuss it any further, he changed the subject, hoping to lighten the mood. “Has our mother tried to convince you to give me the reins, yet?”

Madison looked at him with a knowing smile. “Surprisingly, no. She understands that she must now come to me when she wants something, so she is being reluctantly polite. I think she’s just pleased to see one of us be given this opportunity.”

“Well, we will stand with you,” Grant reminded her, his dark eyes filling with confidence even though he avoided looking at her. “I believe in you, in your ability to fix all of this.”

She closed her eyes briefly, absorbing his words and the knowledge of his faith in her. It meant more than she could ever express to him. When she looked at him again, her smile was vivid, her conviction genuine. “Thank you, Grant.”

He nodded again, glancing down at the watch on his wrist out of habit.

She mimicked his movement, looking at her own with an impatient frown. “Naturally, everyone else is late. Can’t anyone be on time in this family?”

“I’m here, I’m here, calm down. I know this party can’t start without me,” Linc said suddenly from behind them as he made his way into the conference room, crunching down on a bright green apple and looking more than a little harried. He managed a cagey grin as he approached his siblings, winking at Madison and nodding at Grant. “So what’s this meeting about, anyway?”

One of Grant’s eyebrows lifted at the question as he turned to his sister, who merely sighed.

“We will get to the purpose of this meeting once everyone is present. I don’t care to explain myself twice.”

She moved away from them and took her place at the head of the conference table, laying out her files and paperwork on the mahogany surface. Among the contents was her sole purpose for holding the meeting—her grandfather’s letter. As of yet, she had kept the list of instructions to herself, but now that the funeral was done there was no need to wait any longer. Her extended family had already begun to leave New York, therefore she was running out of time.

Before her grandfather had pulled the plug on the machines keeping him alive at the hospital, he had written two separate letters, one to her and one to the detective on the case, Don Hughes. She had recently read the contents of the letter for Detective Hughes. It had contained a full and concise confession from Cyrus admitting to the murder of his father, Winston, and the murders of his three brothers in the war. While her letter spelled out the same confession, Cyrus had also included a list of instructions for her to dutifully follow in order to save the family from certain destruction. He knew his actions would harm them in ways they were not prepared for, so he made sure to arm her with a full arsenal and also make her his heir apparent.

It was now up to her to utilize that arsenal and protect the very empire Cyrus had nearly brought to ruin.

Linc shrugged at Grant and took one last bite of his apple before tossing the core free throw style into the trash can by the door. He dropped down into the seat beside Madison, across from where Grant had set his briefcase, and leaned back casually in the plush, black leather chair. Running his hands through his waves of chestnut hair, he let out a long, heavy sigh. “This has been one hell of a week, guys.”

“It will be one hell of a year by the time we’re done,” Madison reminded him, her hands busily shuffling through her paperwork as she organized herself for the meeting. “But we can’t let that stop us from moving forward.”

“As long as we stick together, it won’t,” Grant said as he rounded the table and took a seat, eyeing his siblings as he opened his briefcase to pull out the files he had brought. “We are almost through the worst of it. Reservation numbers are starting to improve again as we head into summer, and our fiscal outlook is satisfactory.”

“The media is still having a fucking heyday, though,” Linc grimaced, rubbing his right temple wearily. “I’ve been pulling together more ideas on how we can battle back against all the negative spin in the press.”

Madison folded her hands in front of her and eyed both of her brothers. “Good, we’ll hear them as well as the details of our fiscal situation later in the meeting. Until then, there are other things to discuss. Things that will have to wait until the others arrive.”

Just then, they heard Marshall’s booming laughter as he pushed open the door, his attention focused on the four men who followed him in.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind, Clark. Mary-Sue Hudson begged
me
to take her to the spring dance, then
settled
with you when I politely turned her down.”

“No, brother, it is
you
who are mistaken,” Clark Vasser argued, wagging his finger at his older brother. “Mary-Sue only asked you first because she assumed
I
was going to the dance with Victoria Lewis, which was entirely untrue. In fact, if my memory serves, it was
you
who planted that idea in Mary’s head so that she would walk right into your trap, only to have you then turn her down like the cruel, cruel man you are.”

“You always were a heartbreaking bastard, Marshall,” Duke ‘Doc’ Vasser chuckled, shaking his head. The glasses perched on his nose slipped down and he immediately pushed them up out of habit. “You know Clark’s right. I was there; I can attest to it.”

“Oh, you old fools don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marshall waved them both off, though his smile was wide and good-natured as he turned to face his niece and nephews. “Good morning, kids! We old folks have arrived for the meeting.”

“And not a moment too soon,” Duke II sighed, stepping in behind his father, a briefcase and cup of Starbucks’ coffee in his hands. “Sorry we’re late.”

“Only by a few minutes,” Madison said as she watched the men take seats at the table before her, her nerves beginning to race under her skin. This was, in essence, the first official meeting she had hosted as head of the family. While the meeting to discuss Cyrus’ will had been difficult, she had a feeling this meeting would be no less daunting.

In her experience, men— particularly older men—did not like being told what to do by a woman. Even though these men were her family, they still possessed egos that she knew she was going to have to beat down before the meeting was through. She had no choice. Either she was going to take control of the situation or she would fail. Simple as that.

Grant nodded at Marshall as his uncle lowered into the seat beside him. His gaze drifted to his two other uncles and his two older cousins, Duke II and Cyrus II, known by all of them simply as Duke and Cy. They both had the dark hair common within the Vasser family, but where Cy kept his long to his collar, Duke’s was expertly trimmed and feathered with gray. Duke was taller and leaner in his expensive gray suit. Cy had the muscular build of a man with a gym addiction, and the carefree outfit of jeans and a white linen shirt to prove it.

Before his grandfather’s death, it had been over five years since Grant had last seen any of these men, and yet here they were, pretending this was some kind of family reunion when in fact he knew there was more on their minds. They didn’t approve of Madison being in charge, though there was little any of them could do to change it.

So while they smiled and pretended to enjoy themselves, he noticed the judgment in their eyes when they looked at his sister. As her older brother, he could feel his protective nature rising up to defend her from them.

“Hey Uncle Duke, did you get those tickets to the Knicks game I had sent up to your room?” Linc asked, tapping his fingers against the table restlessly.

Doc beamed at Linc owlishly through his glasses. “I did Linc, thank you. I’m trying to convince my son here to go with me.”

“We don’t have time,” Duke grumbled, shuffling through the file folder he’d brought with him impatiently. “We are in New York on business, dad. You know that.”

“Bah,” Doc waved his son’s comment away, winking at Linc cheerily. “He works so hard he doesn’t have a life. That’s why he’s divorced.”

Duke rolled his eyes and shot a mean look at his father. “Can we not talk about this right now? I’m sure no one else cares to hear about my sham of a marriage.”

Doc shrugged, his bald head catching the light as he grinned at the others. “He just misses the Vegas heat. Besides, it’s so damn cold here. My old bones can’t take it anymore.”

Madison smiled despite herself, not realizing just how much she had missed her uncle’s easy humor. It had been one of the few things that had made Las Vegas bearable for her. “Well, we will make this process as easy as possible so you can get back home.”

“I’m in no hurry, dear.” Doc glanced over at his brother Clark and winked again. “It’s you young people who are so urgent to get a move on.”

“The shit’s hit the fan, Uncle Duke. We gotta figure out what to do about all of it,” Cy put in, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly and turning his attention to Madison. “I’m ready to hear what her
majesty
here has to say and then I’m on the first flight back to L.A.”

Linc turned to his cousin, temper flaring. “Seriously, Cy? Is this how it’s going to be?”

Cy shrugged, his mouth upturned in a bitter grin as his green eyes sparked with insolence. “It’s gonna be however it’s gonna be, slick.”

He had just rolled over the hill of forty, but despite his age he tended to act like a college frat boy gone wild. Cy drank heavily, a habit that had once or twice gotten him into trouble with the law. But, like his dead Uncle Win, he managed to use his charm and family connections to slip out of jail time and he usually paid the heavy fines with the family money.

He was in charge of running the Vasser Hotel in Los Angeles, but his father, Clark, tended to take care of the majority of the responsibilities despite having been technically retired for five years. Clark continued to make excuses for his only son, as though hoping one day things would change. Of course, they never did.

Clark looked to his son now, sucking on his teeth as he struggled to come up with some sort of excuse to cover for his son’s behavior. “Cy’s understandably upset, Linc. The news has been a lot for all of us to swallow.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to come in here and be a jackass,” Linc fired back, glaring at his uncle. “And honestly, I think out of all of us sitting here, Mads is the most qualified to run this company. She’s the only one with any goddamn sense.”

Duke snorted derisively and Cy snickered, but both avoided looking at Madison as she stared pointedly down the table at them.

“Thank you, Linc. I can take it from here.” Madison nodded in her brother’s direction, keeping her voice level despite the uptick in the beating of her heart. Her own temper was burning, but she knew she had to expect this behavior from her cousins. After all, they had been even closer to being next in line than her brothers.

“Madison, tell me what it is you plan to do about the backlash by veterans against our hotel?” Duke suddenly asked, gazing up at her expectantly. “They are calling our grandfather a traitor, a war criminal. Understandably, they want to boycott our hotels.”

She noticed the challenge in his eyes and could sense the authority he felt he had over her. She could also tell that he was trying to box her into a trap he thought she couldn’t escape from. It was a pity he underestimated her. He might be nearly twice her age, but that didn’t make him superior or smarter.

“I have already asked Uncle Marshall to make the rounds to the various military veteran functions. As a veteran himself, he should be able to showcase our family’s history of strong support for the military and convince them that our grandfather’s actions do not represent every Vasser, living or dead.” One of her eyebrows rose as she eyed him coolly. “Does that answer your question?”

“For now,” he muttered, turning back to the paperwork before him and flipping through the pages absently. “And what about the op-ed piece in the
New York Times
proclaiming you are too young and inexperienced to run such a large company?”