Merger to Marriage (Boardrooms and Billi - By Addison Fox Page 0,45
familiar voice floated over his shoulder. “Busy lunch?”
Turning toward his mother, he put on his most humorless smile as he stood from his chair. “Eavesdrop much?”
“Just keeping an eye on my favorite son.” She pointed to the seat Teddy had vacated. “Join your mother for a cup of coffee.”
“I’ve got plans.”
“So do I.” She settled her hands in her lap, looking for all the world like a lady who lunched. “I think you might want to hear them.”
He took his seat, that wash of helplessness that had ridden him since childhood clamping around his ankles like steel bars. Even now, long after he’d escaped her influence, she was here. And she made him feel small. He gritted his teeth against the emotion, willing it to subside by sheer force of will.
He wasn’t that young boy any longer. He had options. And he had power of his own.
The hazel eyes, so like the ones he saw in the mirror each morning, shifted as she gazed around the room. “I had a lovely time in France.”
“I’m delighted.”
Their waiter brought fresh cups of coffee, and Eloisa drew out the moment as she doctored hers. “It’s a lovely villa, but it does need a woman’s touch.”
Warning bells clicked in the back of his mind, but he said nothing as he took a sip of his own coffee. The rich flavor was bitter on his tongue as he waited for his mother to speak.
“You know, Holt, when I came to you a few weeks ago, I had a rather lucrative business proposition to share with you.”
“I’ve already given you my opinions on doing business together.”
She took a delicate sip of her coffee. “I’m amazed at how many things you seem to feel are so beneath you. I’ve simply asked for a little help. You know I could stay out of your hair for what amounts to a rather paltry sum.”
“I won’t front your schemes.”
“Who said anything about a scheme?”
A hard, cold bark of laughter lodged in his throat. The sensation was so bleak, without any remnants of humor, that the depth of his bitterness surprised even him. “I think I made my feelings more than clear on your last visit.”
“You owe me this.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“You owe me everything.” Her voice was whip-quick and layered with a degree of frost that was a distinct change from years gone by. Even at her worst, his mother had always maintained an appearance of civility and good humor. As if “one more job” would be all she needed to be happy forever more.
The woman who faced him now carried the stench of desperation.
“Just what have you gotten yourself into?”
“Nothing.”
“If you have any hope I’ll help you, you’d be wise not to play me.”
“And you’d be wise to listen to your mother.” She leaned forward, and the same impression he’d had in his office at her last visit struck him once more. She’d aged. Although she wasn’t much past her mid-50s, her lifestyle choices were taking a toll. The ravages were hidden well by artful make-up and impeccable clothing, but they couldn’t fully cover the price she paid for her poor choices.
“You think I don’t know what this little meeting was all about?”
“I don’t care what you think, and I stopped caring long ago.”
“Teddy Craddick. He was a mark I played years ago. I nearly came up to say hello, curious to see if he would remember me, the poised and professional auction-house girl who lovingly priced his wife’s baubles for the insurance company.”
“He’s savvier than you give him credit for. I’ve no doubt he’d have made the connection.”
Eloisa’s features took on a calculating sheen, one he’d seen all too often throughout his life. “And what’s he going to do when he makes the connection between you and me?”
“There’s nothing to tie us together.”
“Of course there is.” She pulled out her phone, flipping to a selection of photographs. “I just stayed in your home for a week. I’ve got photos. I’ve made calls from the house phone. I even used your Internet connection to manage a bit of business. Our matching eyes are usually the giveaway for anyone who might be looking. But add on my latest visit and I’ve got all I need.”
The neat way she boxed him in had images of his childhood rising up in his memory in thick, choppy waves. A greasy roll of nausea gripped his stomach, turning the contents of his lunch over as a line of sweat rolled down his back. And