“I’ve given you some options,” Rico continued in a marginally more civilized voice. “Let me know how you’d like
to proceed.”
“Options,” Senor Cabrera spat. “None that are worth accepting. This is hell,” he told Rico forcefully. “You have sent us to hell, Rico. I hope you’re happy.”
The older man whirled and jerked his head at his wife. She hurried after him. Anton trotted to catch up and escort them to the elevator while Rico swore quietly and viciously as he strode back into his office.
Poppy followed on apprehensive feet, quietly closing the door and pressing her back against it. She watched him pour a drink.
“I am so sorry. Anton didn’t tell me they would be here or I wouldn’t have come. I asked him not to tell you I was dropping in. This is all my fault.”
“I knew you were coming.” He threw back a full shot. “I thought we would be finished an hour ago. It went long—you were early. Bad timing.” He poured a second. “Do you want one?”
“It was that bad?” She wondered how many he’d had before talking to the older couple. Maybe she ought to make some espresso with that machine behind the bar.
“It was difficult.” He poured two glasses and brought them to the low table where melting ice water and full cups of coffee sat next to untouched plates of biscotti. He set the fresh glasses into the mix and threw himself into an armchair.
She lowered herself to the sofa, briefly taking in the classic decor of the office with its bookshelves and antique desk. A younger version of Senor Cabrera looked down in judgment from a frame on the wall. She felt utterly helpless. Deserving of blame, yet Rico wasn’t casting any, just slouching there, brooding.
“What sort of options did you give them?” She hated to ask, sensing by their animosity his suggestions hadn’t been well received.
“I told them I was stepping down.”
“From being president?” A jolt went through her. It was the last thing she had expected. “Why?”
“I have to.” He frowned as if it was obvious. “I had my parents prepare them for it when they informed them about you and Lily. I’ve stayed to keep things on an even keel, but today I gave them the alternatives for transitioning me out of the chair.”
She could only blink, remembering what he had told her in the solarium the day Faustina had broken his engagement. Poppy hadn’t meant to pry, but she had admitted to not understanding the appeal of an arranged marriage. She had been compelled to ask what he would have gained.
I was to become president of Faustina’s father’s chemical research firm. Cesar and I work very well together, but this would have given me a playground for my personal projects and ambitions. My chance to shine in my own spotlight.
He’d been self-deprecating, but she had sensed a real desire in him to prove something, if only to himself. She completely understood that. It was akin to what drove her interest in photography.
“What will you do?” she asked now.
“Go back to working under Cesar. There’s always room for me there.”
But it wasn’t what he wanted. “You married Faustina so you could move out from his shadow. You have your own ambitions.”
“I’ll find another way to pursue them.” He flicked his hand, dismissing that desire.
“But—” She frowned. “What happens with this company? Do they become your competitors again?”
“One option is to leave this enterprise under Cesar’s direction. Another would be for us to sell this back to them at a discounted price. They’d be gaining a much more lucrative business than when I took over.” He muttered into his glass. “So I think that’s what they’ll choose.”
“How much would it impact you if they do? Financially, I mean?” Her blood was congealing in her veins. They’d just bought a house. Not a cute bungalow in a small prairie town that a union wage could pay off in twenty years, but a mansion with acres of grapes and the sort of view that cost more than the house. Her palms were sweating. “Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”
“Because it doesn’t affect you. The sting in the pocketbook will be short-lived, some legal fees and a return of some stocks and other holdings. I’ll have to restructure my personal portfolio, but our family has weathered worse. Things will balance out.”
She could only sit there with a knot of culpability in her middle.
“Rico, I hate that I brought nothing to this marriage. I didn’t know I was going to cost you. Not like this.” Her eyes grew hot and she braced her elbows on her knees to cover her eyes with her palms. “I’ve been spending like a drunken sailor. I just ordered equipment for—I’ll call them. Cancel it.” She looked for her purse.
“Poppy.” He leaned forward and caught her wrist. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but a few thousand euros on photography equipment isn’t going to make a dent in what’s about to change hands. Cesar and I have discussed how to finance this. You and I are perfectly fine.”
“But this is my fault! Now he’s going to hate me, too. Sorcha will stop being my friend. I’m sorry, Rico. I’m so sorry I slept with you and ruined everything.”
* * *