It was Brody’s ringtone—the dramatic pipe-organ melody of the theme to The Phantom of the Opera. It was a long-running family joke, considering his computer-genius brother was pretty much living out the plotline as a scarred recluse. But when you had the kind of life that most of the Eden boys had lived, you developed a pretty thick skin and a dark sense of humor to make it through.
“Hey, Brody,” Wade answered.
“Wade.” His brother’s tone was cautious and, as always, serious.
“No,” Wade said, cutting off the next question. “I went out to the property to talk to the owner, but there’s a…complication.”
Brody sighed heavily. “I knew this wouldn’t be as easy as you seemed to think.”
“I said a complication, not a complete failure, Debbie Downer. It’s just not going to be open-and-shut. The owner is reluctant to sell.”
“Even at double the price?”
“I offered her half a million and she turned me down flat.”
Brody groaned on the line. “Why on earth would she turn that down? Half a million dollars is a lot to just push aside.”
“Well, it’s partially my fault.” And technically, it was. He had the feeling Victoria Sullivan might’ve sold the land if any of his brothers had shown up at her doorstep. But not Wade. Oh, no. She was bound and determined to get back at him for firing her, even though it was her own doing.
“What did you do?” Brody asked in the same sharp tone he’d always used as a child. Whenever one of the other boys lamented about being punished, those were always the first words out of his mouth. Brody was the one who never got into trouble, who never did anything wrong. He was too worried about being punished, thanks to his abusive father. Brody was always happiest sitting at his computer, whether he was playing games or helping Molly upgrade to the latest financial management software. He never got into trouble.
“I didn’t do anything. She just doesn’t like me. She used to work for me years ago.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
Wade couldn’t help snorting into the phone at his brother’s assumption that this had to be a spurned lover. Compared to the lifestyle of his brother, he supposed he appeared to be a bit of a dog when it came to the ladies. “Then or now?” he teased.
“Either.”
“No, I’ve never slept with her.” Despite the fact that he would like to. Very much. He eyed the mostly dry spot on the crotch of his pants and smiled. She was a feisty one, for sure. He was certain they’d have a hell of a time in bed. But if she didn’t like him enough to conduct a business deal, she probably didn’t like him enough to take her clothes off for him.
Well, at least not yet. He’d seen the passion blazing in her pale blue eyes as he’d pinned her against that wall tonight. She wanted him, all right. But she was too stubborn to give in to it.
“I fired her. For cause, I might add. She still seems to be a little perturbed about that.”
“I knew we should’ve sent Xander. No one can say no to him.”
Their brother Xander was a Connecticut congressman. He was smooth, charming, likable and well-spoken. Everything a good politician needed to be. He would be perfect to handle the situation, if he were available. “Well, Xander is busy negotiating the country out of a huge deficit, so you’re stuck with me. I can make this happen. I assure you. It just isn’t going to get done in a day. She’s going to take some convincing.”
“What can I do to help it along? Run a background check? See if I can dig up any information on her?”
“That wouldn’t hurt, although I doubt you’ll come up with anything useful. At least, not anything blackmail worthy. I get the feeling her faux pas at my company was a fluke.”
“Maybe there’s something in her history you can use to soften her up. It will make me feel like I’m doing something.”
Wade could hear the aggravation in his brother’s voice. Brody wanted to help, but not much could be done from the supersecure corporate offices of his software empire in Boston. His brother was brilliant, had built a company that rivaled Google and Facebook, but Brody didn’t go out in public. The only time anyone saw him was when he came home for Christmas or Easter. The rest of the time it was just he and his secretary, Agnes, on the top floor of his Boston high-rise.