spent hours going over Father’s reports with him, discussing tactics, formulating policy. No one else could step in and be up and running as quickly.” He glanced over at Harvard. “And you’d be welcome as head of security. Until we sort that problem too.”
Harvard shrugged. He didn’t care where he went as long as it kept him with Rachel. “That’s up to Rachel. Where she goes, I go.”
“Oh, for the love of Gucci,” Rachel snapped. “You don’t need to stay by my side now that the job’s over. Go play with the other boys. I’m sure Callum has someone he needs shooting.”
Samantha stared between him and Rachel. “The wedding is still on though, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Harvard said at the same time as Rachel said, “No.”
“Thanks for clearing that up,” Samantha mumbled before raising her voice. “Until you figure it out, I’ll just carry on planning. Which means”—she pointed at Rachel—“you don’t get out of visiting that bridal boutique.”
“Rachel?” Jonathan said. “What will it be? I don’t mean to pressure you, but I need you. Without Preston, I’ll have to take on our legal work. I could do with another pair of hands to help run things. We could share the CEO role until we figure everything out.”
“She’ll do it,” their grandmother said.
“Gran!” Rachel snapped.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, we both know you’ll give in. You might act like a right little witch, but underneath, somewhere, you have a heart of gold. And you’d never leave your brother in the lurch.”
Rachel just glared at her while Jonathan tried not to grin.
“Um.” Rupert put up his hand, as though asking a question in school. “Are we carrying on with the meeting? Or are we too traumatized? Because I have some ideas about distribution that I’d like to run past everybody.”
There was a moment where everyone just looked at Rupert, and then, as a group, they stood and made their way out of the room.
Harvard snagged Rachel in the hallway by wrapping an arm around her waist. “One down,” he said. “One to go.” Meaning they could now concentrate on her blackmailer.
“Don’t talk to me,” she said in that icy tone that made him crazy to touch her. “Not unless it’s to admit that this engagement is a farce.”
“Don’t say engagement,” her mother snapped as she passed. “It’s common.”
“I truly hate my family,” Rachel complained before heading to her office.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When they got back to Rachel’s apartment building, there was a package waiting for them at the concierge’s desk.
“Did you order something?” Harvard asked as he reached around her and took the small brown padded envelope from the doorman, being careful to touch only its corners.
“Not that I remember,” Rachel said coolly, but the look in her eye told him she was thinking the same as him—the blackmailer had sent it.
Harvard checked both sides of the envelope. “It only has your name on it. No address. No return information.” He looked at the waiting doorman. “Who dropped it off?”
“A courier company.” The man pulled a notepad toward him. “Atlantic Couriers.” He ripped off the top sheet of paper and handed it to Harvard. “The phone number’s on there. Ms. Ford-Talbot has never received a package without a return address, so I thought it best to note down all the details of the delivery. Just in case.”
Harvard was impressed. “Good thinking.”
The man merely nodded. “We have several wealthy, high-profile residents in this building. Security’s good, thanks to your company, but it doesn’t cover deliveries. That’s why I never send anything up to the apartments unless I’m sure about it.”
Harvard hoped to hell this guy was being paid well because, in that one sentence, he’d proved he was worth every cent.
“Thank you, Jeremiah,” Rachel said. “As usual, I very much appreciate your vigilance.”
They nodded to the concierge, then headed for the elevator.
As the doors closed behind them, Harvard said, “I hope he gets a hefty bonus come Christmas.”
“Jeremiah’s very well paid. And yes, he gets several bonuses a year. If one wants good staff, one must treat them well.”
“Yes.” He grinned. “One must.”
She glanced down at the envelope. “You think it’s from the blackmailer, don’t you?” If she was worried, it didn’t show.
“Yeah,” Harvard said as they stepped out into her hallway. “Which means they know where you live.”
“Anyone with access to TayFor’s personnel files would know where I live.”
In other words, it didn’t mean the blackmailer was someone close to her.
Once securely inside her apartment, Harvard put the envelope on the dining table before sending