Merger to Marriage (Boardrooms and Billi - By Addison Fox Page 0,53

Funny enough, it was exactly what she needed to hear.

…

Holt slammed around his apartment, unable to get the last image of Mayson out of his mind’s eye. She’d just stood there in the middle of her living room, watching him leave. And he’d been the stupid asshole who’d left.

He was on his fifth day without sleep and knew he was ragged and frayed, on the edge of losing everything he held dear. Everything in the world that really mattered.

Mayson and his child.

His phone line buzzed and he recognized the ring as his doorman, and wasn’t surprised to discover Nathan was in his lobby, interested in coming up. The brisk knock a few minutes later had a renewed wave of anger coursing through the pounding in his head. “What do you want?”

Nathan’s eyebrows shot up, but he avoided answering, instead tossing his own opening volley as he walked through the open door. “You look like hell.”

“And I’m sure you know why.”

“I do.”

Before he could say anything, could even come up with a thought, a heavy fist planted itself in his face and Holt staggered backward with the force of Nathan’s punch. “What the hell?”

Nathan bent down and shoved his face within inches of Holt’s. “That’s for my sister-in-law. The only reason I’m not adding one for my wife is because you look so damned pitiful.”

With an extended hand, Nathan pulled him up and walked him toward the living room. “Sit down and I’ll get you some coffee. Then you can give me your side of the story, which, I’ve got to tell you, doesn’t make you look like anything but a raging asshole.”

“Probably because I am a raging asshole.”

“I’ll reserve final judgment until I hear your side from you.”

Nathan walked back in a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of coffee and handed him one. Holt took it and downed a first sip. Despite the heat, the hit of caffeine went a long way toward helping him focus his thoughts. “My mother is a thief. World-class.”

“I know.”

“What?” Holt’s gaze flew to his friend’s, the smug smile there nearly sending him out of his chair to throw a few punches of his own. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. I know. I’ve known since our first deal.”

“You did a background check on me?”

“Likely from the same firm who ran the one on me that you commissioned, so you can get off that high horse.”

“I’ve covered it up. The part about my mother,” he said, still curious how Nathan could have known he’d checked him out all those years ago.

“Then maybe we didn’t use the same firm, because the one I secured was still able to dig it up.”

“She’s a train wreck I’ve carefully and meticulously distanced myself from.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Holt stared at his friend over the rim of his mug as he took another sip. “You really need to ask me that?”

Nathan leaned forward, his forearms on his knees. “She’s not you, Holt. You’ve made something of yourself that’s good and strong and honest. What she chooses to do is her own path, and not acknowledging that undermines what you’ve worked on and built all on your own merits.”

Holt wanted to believe that, but he knew the reality was often different. “Craddick found out, and he has no interest in doing a deal.”

“Teddy Craddick is a blowhard who thinks he’s got way more influence than he does.”

“He’s not a trifle, Nathan.”

“He’s also not nearly the mover and shaker he once was. And he shouldn’t be. Hell, the man should be enjoying his damn retirement instead of poking his nose into deals. His sons are more than capable of running the company, and have been doing a damn fine job of it.”

“Craddick’s one of my mother’s cons.” Realization dawned in Nathan’s eyes and Holt couldn’t resist a jab. “Didn’t get that one out of your damn background check, huh?”

“So you want to incentivize him to assuage your conscience?”

“Something like that.” Holt took a sip of the coffee. “It’s worked with others.”

“She’s a poison, and she needs to be dealt with.”

“I know. And I have an idea if you want in.”

“Hell yeah I want in.”

Holt rubbed his chest as he took another sip of coffee. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s about as miserable as you.”

“I love her.” The words were so simple, so easy, he wondered why he’d run from them for so much of his life. Maybe because Mayson Elizabeth McBride had never been a part of