Scandalous (31 page)

“That sounds exciting, doesn’t it Walker?”

The old man’s face remained impassive.

“It is exciting. But because of the size and nature of this deal, we need unanimous board approval, and the deadline is at one o’clock today. Unfortunately Jackson’s away traveling and can’t be reached.

“Oh dear.” Mitzi wrung her hands. “I do hope he’s not pushing himself too hard.”

I expect he’s been pushing himself very hard indeed
, thought Sasha.
Right between some socialite’s thighs.
Aloud, she said, “We need another shareholding family member to vote in his place. I
have all the paperwork with me, if you want to see it. But all we really need is Mr. Dupree’s signature, right here on the last page.”

Walker Dupree cleared his throat. Sasha jumped, as if a waxwork dummy had suddenly come to life. “Mitzi, honey,” he said in his soft, gravelly voice, “let me talk to the young lady alone, would you?”

Mitzi looked as surprised as Sasha. “Sure. Of course, darling, if that’s what you want. Would you like Mary Anna or one of the other nurses?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine. We won’t be long.”

Once Mitzi was gone and the living-room door was closed, Walker Dupree looked Sasha in the eye for a long, long time. When eventually he spoke, he was not only lucid, but sharp as a tack and very,
very
mad.

“Now you listen to me. The next time you set foot in my house and try to get me, or any member of my family, to sign some bullshit piece of paper we haven’t even read, I will set my dogs on you. Is that clear?”

Sasha blushed to the roots of her hair. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Mr. Dupree. I thought…”

“You thought I was mentally incapacitated. Yes, I know. That’s what makes it such a shitty thing to do. However, as you can see, I’m not.”

A frosty silence fell. Sasha didn’t know whether to get up and leave, or apologize again. After what felt like years but was probably less than a minute, Walker Dupree said, “Show me the documents. All of them.”

Sasha did as she was asked. She sat and watched for twenty minutes as the old man read and reread the deal memo, his rheumy eyes scanning the figures and graphs, carefully extracting every ounce of meaning. At last he looked up.

“Explain to me in no more than three sentences why I should sign my name to this deal.”

Sasha took a deep breath. “I can explain it to you in one sentence, Mr. Dupree. Because it’s the best deal you’re going to get.”

For the first time since his wife had left them, Walker Dupree smiled.

“And if I don’t sign?”

“Wrexall will lose the McKinley deal. And I’ll leave the firm and take the retail group with me.”

“Take them where?”

“Jones Lang LaSalle, probably.”

“What makes you so sure they would go? Wrexall could counteroffer. Double their salaries if necessary.
We
could cut
you
out of the picture.”

Now it was Sasha’s turn to smile. “You could try, sir. But you won’t succeed. You see, unlike every other business at Wrexall, we
are
a team and we watch each other’s backs. It’s not a concept your son believes in, but it’s worked for me.”

Walker Dupree frowned, and Sasha inwardly cursed her big mouth.
What did I have to go and bring up Jackson for? He’s the man’s son, for God’s sake. Of course he’s going to take his side over an outsider’s, rift or no rift.
But Walker Dupree surprised her.

“You say you’ve been unable to reach Jackson. Where is he?”

“He’s on business in Park City,” said Sasha, straight-faced.

“You mean he’s off somewhere partying his ass off?” Walker translated succinctly.

Sasha shrugged. “Truthfully, sir, your guess is as good as mine.”

“I see,” said Walker. “And you obviously believe my son would refuse to sign this deal if he
were
where he should be, at his desk? Otherwise you’d simply have moved the deadline and not bothered coming all this way to try and hoodwink me into doing it.”

Sasha was about to protest but wisely thought better of it. “I believe Jackson would refuse to sign anything that he felt
I
might profit from. However great a deal it might be for your company. Sir.”

“Ah.” Walker Dupree nodded in understanding. “So it’s personal.”

Sasha’s heart sank.
That’s it. I’ve blown it. He’s not going to sign, not if it means backing me over his own heir.
At that moment Mitzi walked back in, carrying a tray of freshly baked cinnamon cookies. “Anyone hungry? Business talk always makes Walker hungry.” She winked at Sasha. The smell of the biscuits took Sasha right back home to her parents’ cottage in Frant. The combination of the nostalgia punch to the stomach and her disappointment about the deal was too much for her. To her great embarrassment, Sasha found her eyes welling up with tears.

“Oh, my dear, are you all right? Whatever is the matter?” said Mitzi.

“Nothing,” said Sasha unconvincingly. “It’s er, it’s my allergies. Thank you for the cookies, but I think we’re done here.” She stood up to leave. As she headed for the door, Walker Dupree called after her. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

He handed her the documents. There, on the last page, gleaming in fresh, bright-blue ink, was his signature.

“I don’t believe in letting personal feelings get in the way of business. And the best deal you’re going to get is always the right deal.”

“Thank you…” stammered Sasha.

“If Jackson wanted to use his vote, he should have answered his goddamned phone,” snapped Walker. “Maybe this’ll wake him up a bit. It’ll certainly wake up those old fuddy-duddies at Wrexall. Companies need change, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It’s what keeps ’em ahead of the game. Good luck with your new venture, miss.”

Lying on her bed now, it was hard to believe that that conversation had taken place this morning. The rest of the day had been one of the longest of Sasha’s life, yet at the same time it had passed in a blur. As soon as the deal went through
and was announced on Bloomberg, all hell broke loose in the markets with both Wrexall’s and McKinley’s shares fluctuating wildly before ending the day six and fourteen points up, respectively. Sasha herself had been so overwhelmed with requests for interviews, she’d had to ask Joe Foman to loan her a full-time PR person to handle it all. It had been so crazy and so sudden, she hadn’t even had time to call Lottie Grainger, the one person at Wrexall outside of her own group whom she was determined to poach over to Ceres. Reaching for her BlackBerry, ignoring the hundreds of unread messages and voice mails, she was about to call Lottie when she heard a loud banging at the door.

Instantly on her guard—no one should have been able to get up to her floor without security downstairs alerting her first—Sasha made sure the chain was on and the door double bolted before she looked through the spy hole.

It was Jackson.

“Open the door, Sasha. I know you’re in there.”

Sasha left the chain on, unbolting the door and opening it about an inch so they could talk.

“How the hell did you get up here?”

“I took the fire stairs. Now are you going to let me in or what?” He looked tired and bedraggled, with deep-purple shadows under his eyes and a sweat-stained shirt still crumpled from his flight. His face was flushed with anger and exertion. Sasha contemplated
not
letting him in. But she knew he was stubborn enough to hammer at her door all night, and besides, she would have to face him sometime. She unhooked the chain and stood back as he stormed inside, pacing her tiny entryway like a caged tiger.

“You bitch,” he hissed at her. “You set me up!”

“I did no such thing.” Sasha walked into the living room, keeping her cool. “This was a good deal for all sides.”

“Don’t give me that shit!” he roared. “It was a good deal for
you
, at Wrexall’s expense. My expense.”

“Don’t take it so personally.” Sasha sat down on the couch. “It was business.”

“It was blackmail! And don’t tell me not to take it personally. You flew out to
my house
and turned my own parents against me. You call
me
unethical, but what the hell kind of a stunt is that?” He was still pacing, his arms flailing wildly, as if looking for a suitable object to punch. “The old man only did it to hurt me. To try to claw back some of his power, his glory days.”

Sasha was shocked at the vitriol in Jackson’s voice. “That’s not true. Your father read the memo very carefully. He signed because he thought it was the best outcome for Wrexall Dupree, under the circumstances.”

“And what circumstances were those? The circumstance of you sticking a dirty great knife in all our backs? You disgust me. You’re a total hypocrite.”

Stung, but not wanting to show him how hurt she was, Sasha lashed out.

“You know, your father
did
say that he hoped this might act as a wake-up call. That it might get you to start taking your role at Wrexall more seriously.”

“What do you mean by that? I take my role very seriously. Just because I play hard doesn’t mean I don’t work hard.”

“You think your father doesn’t know you were AWOL in some hooker’s bed in Utah, enjoying yourself while Rome burned? You think the entire board doesn’t know? I didn’t ‘set you up,’ Jackson. You set yourself up. All you had to do was answer your phone and none of this would have happened.”

Furious because he knew it was true—yes, Sasha had pulled a fast one, but he’d allowed it to happen, been the architect of his own undoing—Jackson instinctively drew back his fist. Sasha flinched, cowering against the wall. Jackson felt shame creep over his skin like hives.
What the hell is wrong with me? What, I’m going to hit a woman now?
Spinning around, he slammed his fist repeatedly in the opposite wall until his knuckles bled.

“I think you should go.” Sasha’s voice was firm, but he could hear the tremble beneath. “Please leave.”

“I gave you a job,” said Jackson. “I brought you into this company. I
made
you, Sasha. And how do you repay me? You turn on me like a viper.”

“Bullshit! Yes, you gave me a job, and in return I made you a fortune. You’re lazy and arrogant, Jackson. Loyalty is something you earn, you can’t just demand it. My team is loyal to me because they see me work my ass off for them every single day. That’s one of the most exciting things about Ceres. It’s a real team effort.”

Jackson stepped closer to her, so close that Sasha could feel his warm breath on her collarbone. She was aware of her heart racing, a combination of physical fear—he still might try and hit her—and something else, something too disturbing for her to name. When he reached out and touched her hair, his strong hand gripping the back of her neck, she thought she might faint. He dropped his voice to a whisper.

“I’m going to crush you, Sasha. I’m going to blow Ceres out of the water. Obliterate it into so many pieces, it’ll be like it never existed.”

His closeness, his physical presence, made it hard for Sasha to breathe. Tightening his grip on her neck, Jackson pulled her toward him and kissed her, once, on the mouth. Shocked, and horribly excited, Sasha squirmed away.

“Get out of my apartment.”

“Good luck,” said Jackson as he walked out the door. “You’re going to need it.”

Out on the sidewalk, the cool night air brought Jackson to his senses, as if waking from a dream. He tried to process his feelings, but it was impossible.
Did I really just kiss her?
Part of him
hated Sasha, loathed her enough to want to hit her, to hurt her. Not just for today and what she’d done to him: landing a body blow to Wrexall and turning the board, and even his own father, against him on what ought to have been
his
, Jackson’s, day of triumph. But for all the bickering and sparring and fury of the last few years. Once upon a time she’d tried to destroy Theo Dexter’s career and failed. Now, it appeared, it was Jackson’s turn. What kind of a psycho was this woman?

But another part of him, a part he’d been denying since the day Sasha rejected him at Harvard all those years ago, another part wanted her so badly it made Jackson want to cry.
It’s not love
, he told himself.
It’s lust.
The competitor in him wanted to beat Sasha, wanted to win. He knew that the only way he would ever truly win was when he had her in his bed, naked and longing, begging him for more. Just picturing it now was giving him an incipient hard-on that only added to his fury.