Rich (Benson Security 5)

Charles landed on the floor with a bloody nose and a spiteful glint in his eye. “I’ll add assault to my litigation, shall I?”

“You’d need a witness for that to stand,” Jonathan said. “I saw you run into Harvard’s fist. I didn’t see him punch you. Anyone else?” He looked around the table, his expression making it very clear that whatever answer the rest of them gave would determine what side they were on.

“Didn’t see a thing,” Marcus said, and others agreed.

Charles got to his feet. “Samantha? Rupert? Tell them what you saw.” It was an order given by a man used to intimidating his family.

“I was looking at my phone,” Samantha said. “Sorry, Daddy.” She didn’t look sorry. In fact, she didn’t appear bothered at all.

Charles turned to Rupert.

“I saw you get what you deserved,” Rupert said. “And don’t worry. I’m okay with being disowned.”

With pure fury, Charles strode from the room. Followed closely by Anne, who was still crying, and Stephanie, who was comforting her.

Theo blinked several times but couldn’t look anyone in the eye. “I, uh, better go to the police station and see if there’s anything I can do,” he said before he left too.

“Marcus,” Jonathan said, “if you want to go, I understand.”

Marcus shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do there. I’ll see out the day, and then I’m going to find the biggest bottle of whiskey I can get my hands on and ask it what the hell happened with my brother.”

Jonathan nodded. “Well,” he said to the remaining board members, “it would seem we’re a few short. With Charles and Preston gone, the management team will be stretched.” He turned to Rachel, his face softening in apology. “Can you please stay on until we get this sorted?”

“Oh, come on,” Rachel said. “That could take months.”

“I know, but seriously, who else can I ask? Father’s in no condition to come back to work. And no one knows the business like you. Even when you weren’t here, you 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.”

Samanth

a 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.”