that drug approved. And now we have an inspector in our pocket. We should be celebrating.”
I turn to face my father. “You asked me to stay and protect this company after I cleaned up your mess. Rein him in, or the only legacy you’ll end up with will be jail, because I’ll leave. I will walk the fuck away and your little game will be over. And when this explodes in your face, like the last mess did, I won’t fix it this time.”
My father’s lips tighten, eyes sharpen, darken, and while mine might be the same shade of light gray, I refuse to ever let them be as hard and cold. “You do know I’m dying,” he says.
“Which means you have nothing to lose but that legacy,” I say with brutal honesty, because brutal is all he understands. “I have everything to lose and that’s too much. I won’t go to jail for you.”
His lips twist wryly. “This company survived twenty years without your sense of morality.”
“And then you got on the Feds’ watch list with that trade deal that went south. I covered that shit up despite everything I believe in.” Anger and guilt burns through me. “Because you said I had a chance to make things right here once and for all.” I glance at Derek. “You’re still my brother and I am trying to keep you out of jail.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself to look in the mirror, Shane.”
I don’t justify the snide remark with an answer that will only ignite another attack, instead refocusing on my father. “You know what it takes to keep me here. It’s nonnegotiable.” I turn on my heel, striding toward the door, and the moment my hand closes on the knob, I hear my father speak. “Brandon Pharmaceuticals is yours. Derek will stand down.”
I don’t turn, pausing only long enough to hear Derek’s low curse, nor do I stay for the argument certain to follow. I exit to the exterior office, shutting the door behind me and traveling the secretarial enclave with long, purposeful strides meant to lead me to a stiff drink I normally don’t entertain at this time of the day. An agenda that is derailed as I reach the hallway and my mother steps into my path.
“Shane, sweetie,” she greets me, looking forty when she’s actually in her fifties and sporting a sleek black dress that hugs her curves in a way no son would approve. “Is your father in?” Her brows dip, her hand closing on my arm. “You’re upset. What happened?”
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly she reads what I know is not on my face. “Nothing I can’t handle.” And knowing this isn’t the time or place to talk to her about Mike Rogers, I say, “I have work I need to attend to.”
“You mean you don’t want to talk about it.” Narrowing her pale blue eyes on me, she delicately swipes a lock of her long, dark hair behind one ear. “I don’t even need to know details because we both know you still aren’t listening to me. Take control and then make changes. That’s the only way this works.” She releases me. “I’ll talk to him. Call me later.” She moves around me and I step forward, only to have her stop me. “Oh and honey. If you plan to do more than fuck the woman who put that lipstick on your collar, I expect to meet her.”
I have no idea how lipstick traveled to my collar, and really don’t care, but damn if a taste of the woman who put it there doesn’t sound really damn good right about now. And if I had her, my mother, and my entire damn family for that matter, wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near her.
Behind every great fortune, there’s a crime.
—Lucky Luciano
CHAPTER TWO
SHANE
Within fifteen minutes of my mother’s “lipstick” announcement, I’m already behind my cherrywood desk in the corner office opposite my brother’s, trying to focus on work, when Jessica, a tall blonde with spiky hair and an attitude, steps into the office.
“Your fresh shirt has arrived,” she says, indicating the garment in her hand. “And let me just say, if the woman responsible for your change of clothes put that scowl on your face, I’m personally requesting there’s no do-over.”
“The lipstick on my collar isn’t what it looks like,” I say, dropping my Montblanc pen on the desk. “If it was, I’d definitely be in a better mood.”