When Empires Fall (21 page)

If only he was as confident in his own son as he was in himself, Cyrus grimaced, thinking of Marshall. The man was trustworthy and honest, but he was weak with compassion. He gave in too quickly when pushed and was too frivolous with money. And what was worse was that the man had not taken the road expected of him and gotten married and bred heirs to inherit the empire. No, he’d left that task up to his six younger brothers, who had all produced satisfactory enough children, he supposed.

But none had thus far pleased him as well as his youngest son Win’s children. Perhaps he was biased because he had placed them under Marshall’s care at the hotel in New York, therefore keeping the closest eye on them and coming to know them the best. But he saw in them what he had not found in even his own children.

Grant was ambitious and strong-willed, with a serious nature that focused heavily on being prudent and to the point. Cyrus valued Grant’s abilities so much so that he had given him the position as general manager years before Marshall would have been set to retire. Marshall preferred to ignore the real reasons behind his forced early retirement, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there, staring him in the face point blank.

Linc was, in his opinion, a bit too much like Marshall, though definitively more driven. Where Marshall had been lazy and ineffective, Linc exuded energy and a passion for the hotel that largely went unmatched by others in the family.

The youngest, Kennedy, was unfortunately a carbon copy of her idiot father, a fact which disappointed Cyrus enough that he preferred not to even speak with the girl. Thankfully, she was much too self-involved to notice he despised her.

And then there was Madison. She was the second greatest love of his life, in a paternal sense anyway, and he was certainly not a man who cherished anyone. But being as vain and narcissistic as he was, how could he not love the girl who was so very much like him. It was uncanny the way her mind worked just as his did and how seemingly without words they could communicate. She was his link to the outside, his link to the empire now that he was bedridden. And though he would never admit the truth aloud, he had never needed anyone more than he needed her.

Thinking of her still, he lifted his worn and tattered copy of
Atlas Shrugged
, his reading glasses perched on his narrow nose and his sharp tawny eyes scanning the words at expert speed. It was the only way to pass the time now, but he wasn’t foolish enough to discount the advantages of being well read, especially when one chose his books wisely. There were a whole host of lessons out there waiting to be learned, both in life and through the experiences of others. He was the last man who would spit in the face of history and knowledge, since neither had ever let him down.

He heard the gunfire click of her heels beyond the door of his room long before she swept in, looking pristine and stunning as always, her body dipped in a dress of blood red. She paused before his bed and stared him down, one dark eyebrow lifted skillfully in both challenge and greeting. Her slender arms crossed over her chest as her eyes met his, identical in shape and color, and just as disarming.

“Hello,
pépère
,” Madison smirked.

“It’s been two weeks since you last came to see me,” Cyrus scowled, glaring up at her. “Are you too busy to give me your precious time anymore?”

“You should know that you are not very pleasant company,” Madison informed him as she sat smoothly down on the side of the bed, her hand reaching over to lift the book from his hands and set it aside. “The nurse told me you called her a rotten whore the other day. I know it’s hard for you, but sometimes it’s inappropriate to speak your mind.”

“I’ll say whatever I damn well please,” Cyrus grunted, holding her eyes as she grasped his ancient hand in her youthful one. He preferred not to note the contrast in their ages because while it didn’t seem as though they were so far apart in years, that didn’t make it any less a fact. “Besides, it’s true. She’s been fooling around with that asshole doctor what’s-his-name. I’ve seen them making eyes at each other. Both married, too. Jesus, what has this world come to?”

“Affairs are nothing new,
pépère
, as you and I both know,” she reminded him, tilting her head to the side then with a slow, considering smile. “Speaking of affairs, I have some interesting news to report to you.”

“Out with it, then, I haven’t got all day.”

“I pray you will have many more days after today, and you will too after you hear what I have to tell you.” Madison frowned then, her expression taking on a serious tone that he knew meant something detrimental had occurred.

“The hotel?” he asked immediately, his heart constricting painfully in his chest. When she only shook her head softly, he allowed himself a brief moment of relief. “What is it, then?”

“A detective came by the hotel yesterday claiming to have received a letter written by Rosalie Owens.” She paused, letting him absorb her words before she continued. “In the letter she supposedly wrote that Winston’s suicide was a cover up for murder.”

“Where did this letter come from?”

“Rosalie had a daughter who passed away recently. Apparently this letter was in her old house and was discovered by her niece, who brought it in to the police.”

Cyrus said nothing more for a moment, his scowl deepening and his eyes hardening.

“They are reopening the investigation,” Madison went on, sticking with the cold, hard facts of the matter and not inputting her own feelings on it. “The detective plans to interview everyone in the family who was alive at the time of the death in order to find out if what they remember corroborates what Rosalie Owens wrote in this letter.”

“How could it? Everyone accepted it as a suicide and they wouldn’t dare question it now, not with the family’s reputation at stake.” Cyrus clenched his free hand into a fist, the only outward sign of anger he allowed himself to show.

“He seems to believe he will find some missing link that had been passed up the first time around,” Madison explained, shrugging casually. “Regardless, I don’t see it going anywhere. No one remembers a goddamn thing; it was fifty-four years ago.”

“What did Marshall say?” Cyrus asked, eyes narrowed in distaste.

“He was noticeably upset, outraged, really. He said that the detective was a fool if he wanted to take the whore’s word over ours. Grant is worried that Marshall overreacted and made himself appear to be a possible suspect.”

Cyrus let out a dark laugh, the thought of his eldest son having the guts to kill humorous to him. “What specifically did that bitch say in this letter?”

“I don’t know.” Madison frowned, gripping his hand tighter. “The detective revealed only that she had claimed it to be murder instead of suicide. But then he had the audacity to ask Marshall if he thought
you
had had motive to kill Winston, and Marshall jumped to your defense.” She let out a huff of breath, her brow furrowed in a rare show of concern. “I’m willing to bet that Rosalie exposed everything and that the detective was holding back to see what we would say.”

“Even if she did, none of it can be proved,” Cyrus assured her, shaking his head irritably. “I should have known that threatening her with death was not going to be nearly as effective as simply having her killed.”

“That would have raised too much suspicion.” Madison reminded him shortly. “No, you made the right decision. Leave this to me; I will handle it.”

“You always do,
mon coeur
.” He patted her hand briskly as he hefted a heavy sigh, his ancient lungs wheezing from the strain. The machines nearby beeped in a steady drone of noise. “When this detective comes to see me, as I am sure he inevitably will, I will deny any and all accusations in that damn letter. I suggest you maintain the same and instruct the others to do so as well.”

“I will.” She leaned in to kiss him softly on the forehead, pulling away to meet his eyes once more as she rose to her feet. “Seventeen years ago you entrusted me with your secrets,
pépère
. I, and I alone, will look out for your best interests now. You have my word.”

He nodded curtly to her and silently watched her go, the scent of her perfume lingering after her.

She would do her best; that much he knew. But whether or not she could even handle the full extent of what he knew was written in that letter remained to be seen.

At last, it appeared karma was coming to collect his debt. Just what was the price going to be?

Quinn hummed quietly
to herself as she typed away at her computer, finalizing a letter Grant had dictated to her earlier that morning. Her fingers whisked expertly across the keyboard as she read from her notes, smiling to herself at how formal he was with his word choices. He was clearly far more educated than she was, given that some of the words she had never even heard before. She liked thinking of him at some prestigious Ivy League school, all serious and proper as he sat in classes she could only dream of taking. To think of the great minds he must have met along the way, all of whom helped him build upon his character and education.

She’d seen a diploma from Harvard on the wall of his office, though she couldn’t read the numerous degrees he had received from there since the font had to be so small to fit them all on the single, neat page.

Yup, there was no denying he was a very, very smart man. Intimidating at times, too, she mused, but she was getting used to him. After all, his frosty silences were usually more out of awkwardness than irritation, and when he did speak he was always kind to her. He never raised his voice, nor did he overly berate her if she did something wrong. He let her talk to him, even if he rarely got more than a few words in himself. She’d even managed to make him almost smile a few times.

And he had this way about him, this quietly serious intensity that, while muted by his grounded sensibility, still managed to sneak its way into her thoughts in the middle of the night, when she’d wake up with his face emblazoned in her dreams…

Whoa. She froze, her fingers hovering over the keyboard and her heart pounding suddenly in her chest. God, Quinn, what’s wrong with you? She frowned, rubbing at her chest just above her heart worryingly. Don’t be stupid; just because you think about him when you’re at home doesn’t mean you like him or anything. It’s just that you spend so much time with him that he’s on your mind a lot, that’s all. Right?

She shook her head, willing the feelings away. She’d be worse than a fool if she, even for one moment, thought of herself as being anything more than just his employee. And Quinn did not liken herself to a fool. No, she was stronger than that, more mature than just some stupid crush.

She jolted when the elevator doors slid open across the way and knew her face must have given away her distress when Linc walked up to her, his smile fading a bit.

“Is everything alright, Quinn?” he asked her, not liking the ghostly pale sheen that had come over her face or the worry in her furrowed brows.

“I’m fine,” she managed, forcing a smile on her face. “What’s up?”

He grinned at her as he shifted the presentation boards under his left arm, a binder filled with figures and projections in his right hand.

“Just wanted to see my big bro,” he told her with a wink. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, for whatever it is.” Quinn laughed, watching him knock once on the door to Grant’s office before letting himself in and shutting the door closed behind him.

She sat back in her chair and rubbed her face with her hands, laughing to herself disbelievingly. Stupid, stupid, stupid Quinn. With a cleansing sigh, she returned to the letter she had been composing, forcing the earlier fantasies from her mind.

About ten minutes later, Madison appeared out of one of the elevators and strolled right past Quinn, sparing her only a passing glance and a disinterested smirk before disappearing into Grant’s office. Quinn continued to type for a few more minutes, until she could hear shouting coming from the other room. Her eyes widened as she paused, staring at the door to the office warily, the shouting getting louder and more pronounced. She couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but when she heard the echoing smash of glass being hurled at the floor followed by instant silence, her hands flew up to cover her mouth in shock.