I scrambled to pick up the phone and retain a little dignity for the driver's sake. "Yes?" I answered.
"Is that any way to answer your phone?" my father asked.
"It could have been worse," I told him.
"Really, Rainer, I had hoped that by now you would know the Maxwell name is something more than the occasional portrayal. This is your life, our legacy—"
I cut my father off there. "This is my life, and I think I've done a damn good job so far."
My father sucked a breath of air through his teeth. "I don't know why you insist on being
so difficult."
"Difficult? How about I've done everything you ever asked. The Maxwell imperative has been answered, unless you don't think my billion-dollar bottom line is good enough." I swiped sweat from my forehead and squirmed in my seat. "Listen, Father, I can't talk now."
"No, you shouldn't talk now," my father barked. "I didn't call to lecture you or any of the half dozen other things I'm sure you accuse me of. I called to give you my blessing."
I leaned back against the leather seat and thought I might be having a heart attack. "I'm sorry, your blessing?"
My father gave a low laugh. "Do you really think I don't keep tabs on my children? I would have been delighted with Ellison Ramsey, but I believe that Tasha Nichols is a better match for you."
"What do you know about Tasha?" I asked.
"I know that despite her parents passing too soon, Tasha is a focused and hard-working woman. I have the utmost respect for a self-made entrepreneur, and she has certainly proven herself to be a success." My father cleared his throat, unused to giving anyone such open praise. "Perhaps she will be an inspiration to you."
"She's more than what you've read in the business section," I snapped. My father's silence slid right under my skin. "Tasha Nichols is not only successful, she's generous, and funny, and grounded, and—"
"You're in love with her." My father finished for me.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Maybe we can continue this conversation over a pint of ice cream in our pajamas sometime, but I'm on my way somewhere," I said.
"I know. Give Stan my congratulations on his retirement," my father said. "And good luck, Rainer. I hope she says yes."
My phone went dark and I stared at the reflective screen. I'd gotten a fresh haircut, shaved carefully, and put on a new tuxedo, but I still looked haggard. What if Tasha had actually gotten me out of her system? I could have read all the signs wrong.
"Call for you, sir," my driver said. He put the caller on speaker inside the limousine.
"Where are you?" Berger asked.
I glanced out the window and saw Stan's estate looming up like a glowing skyline all to itself. He lived in a mansion that would have made Gatsby jealous, and the limousine slowed to wait for the immense gates to open. "Pulling into the driveway now," I said.
"Good because your crew here are not the most subtle players. Either we pull off this plan soon or someone is going to crack. Stan is grinning like an idiot," Berger said.
"It's his retirement party, shouldn't he be that happy?" I asked.
"Not this happy. People are starting to suspect something." Berger held the phone away from him and had a muffled conversation with someone. "All right, Rainer. We're all set. Are you?"
"This is a terrible idea," I said. "We should call it off."
"Oh, no you don't. No chickening out now," Berger said.
"What if I just don't get out of the car?" I asked.
The limousine slid in front of the curved front steps. Before it could stop, the door next to me was wrenched open. Berger leaned down, phone still to his ear, and laughed at me.
"You're getting out of the car," he said.
I only got out to stand toe-to-toe with Berger. "You can't tell me you think this is going to work. This is the dumbest thing I've ever done. Why did I let you talk me into this?"