Stealing Her (Covet 1)

I shook my head like I was trying to get the memory out and gazed at our text exchange.

Me: Good luck today. Everything is going to be fine.

Julian: Who needs luck when I have you? Promise to send me pictures of the lingerie you pick out from your shopping trip this afternoon?

I frowned down at my phone.

Me: What shopping trip?

Julian: Marla said she was taking you shopping after lunch. I just found out, assumed you planned it.

Me: I’m screaming but you can’t hear me. Ugh, I’m volunteering at the hospital afterward too, so I might be late. Have I mentioned I hate her?

Julian: Play nice, and I’ll let you eat cookies off my chest later.

Me: Who are you?

Julian: Just me. :)

I grinned down at my phone. And typed back.

Me: Give them hell today, okay? I’ll make my visit with the kids fast. I want to celebrate when you get home, and when I say celebrate what I really mean is . . . Netflix and chill again.

Julian: If I could drive home right now, I would. Miss you, Izzy.

I stared at my phone for a few minutes, trying to figure out why the nickname he’d been using sounded off. It was so natural. In public he called me Isobel just like everyone else. But in private, Julian used to call me Iz.

He hadn’t used that name once in the last month.

Maybe I’d ask him when he came home.

I really was losing my mind, wasn’t I?

I sighed and dialed Marla even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Yes?” She answered on the second ring. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“And you thought it was better to just spring this on me rather than asking permission?”

“I ask for forgiveness, not permission. I’m wearing white today, black should suit just fine.”

The conversation was over.

The line dead.

Luckily I was already in a sleek black YSL number. I grabbed my Ray-Bans along with my blue Prada clutch and locked up.

It was going to be a really long afternoon.

Chapter Twenty-Four

BRIDGE

I was wearing a suit that was too small, surrounded by men twice my age clapping me on the back as I signed page after page after page of a document that would officially make me CEO.

“I trust this will all stay in this room.” My dad lit a cigar while one of the board members, Harry Wilde, handed out more Cubans to the rest of the members.

There were thirteen of us.

We were missing one important person.

Julian.

I signed my name, my real name, Bridge Anderson Tennyson. And I hoped to God I wasn’t screwing my brother completely.

“Won’t leave the room,” Harry announced with a wink in my direction.

I sighed and kept signing.

Father watched from his end of the long marble conference table. He had a gleam in his eye, and the more pages I signed the sicker I felt.

I was becoming CEO.

To the board I was Bridge, the long-lost son finally coming home to claim my rightful place.

To the rest of the world, I was Julian Tennyson, becoming one of the richest CEOs in US history.

The only thing keeping me sane was the fact that Julian and I would have enough shares together to take our father down.

I just had to marry Izzy in order to get my shares.

I wasn’t sure how much work Julian had already done, but looking around, they all seemed pleased I was the one sitting there, which made me wonder if they saw the writing on the wall.

And if they did—I had to wonder if my father did as well.

I had to win them over, every one. I had to do a damn good job and do the one thing Julian had been trying to do all along.

Make our dad proud.

Another page was pulled.

They talked about yachts and private schools and expensive vacations.

Money ruled their world.

And if money stopped making it turn.

I snapped my head toward my dad and smiled.

His eyes narrowed.

I was going to take him down.

And I was going to do it with a smile on my face.

The unexpected sound of champagne popping had me dropping my pen on the last page. I picked it up and finished my signature. I’d sealed our fate, I had saved my mom. I had saved thousands of jobs.

I was CEO.

I had what Julian had wanted his whole life.

I had it.

Please, God, wake up . . . because I was never meant to sit in that chair, overlooking that kingdom, that was Julian.

And the longer I sat there, the more I wondered if my dad hadn’t counted on being able to suck me in too.

Both of his sons, leading by his side.

I’d only glanced at the USB once, saw so much information I wanted to take a nap, and then felt like everything was already slipping through my fingers, mainly Izzy. I jerked it out of the computer and haven’t looked back. Since then it had been burning a hole in my pocket.