“No, probably not. You’re really setting this up just for the three of us?”

Damien ignored him. “Now I’m thinking the bungalow. It’s already stocked, you have the beach, it’s away from the main house, but she can get to the girls in minutes if she needs or wants to. Which she won’t, because I’ll undoubtedly be occupied by my own Disney marathon. Hopefully without a puppy in sight. But confidence is low.”

“Um, yeah. Listen, man, this sounds great. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. How does eight sound? And I need to get up to the office. Could you call and run all this by Jamie?”

“Eight sounds terrific, and of course.”

“Great. I’ll tell Nikki. Pop in and say hi or just head straight to the bungalow. Your call.”

“Okay. Will do.”

He still sounded a little baffled, a fact that amused Damien. And was somewhat gratifying, too. In the cutthroat world of buying and selling the universe, it was handy to have a reputation as a major badass.

“I gotta say, Stark. Every once in a while, you surprise me.”

Damien grinned, thinking of Ollie’s recent confession that he’d been secretly working for the FBI. “Yeah, McKee. I know the feeling.”

Chapter Thirteen

“I appreciate you seeing me,” Richard Breckenridge said, as Damien’s assistant, Rachel Peters, led him into the office near the end of the workday, then excused herself.

Damien remained seated behind his desk while Jackson stood at the window, a commanding presence in a gray tailored suit. He didn’t turn to greet Breckenridge. Just stayed as he was, looking casually out at downtown LA, fifty-seven stories below.

Normally, Damien would stand and shake a guest’s hand. And for most afternoon meetings, they’d settle onto the couch or chairs in the seating area near the front of the huge office. Enjoy coffee or bourbon and converse like friends about whatever business matter was the order of the day.

Richard Breckenridge, however, was neither a friend nor a respected colleague. And as far as Damien was concerned, this meeting wasn’t about building a relationship. It was about assessing Breckenridge. More than that, it was about making absolutely clear who was in charge.

And that would be Damien.

To underscore the point, he gestured to one of the guest chairs on the far side of his massive desk. Then he leaned back casually, resting his head in his intertwined fingers. “I’ve got a window of fifteen minutes before my next meeting. Why don’t you tell me why we’re sitting here, Richard?”

Breckenridge shifted, the hard planes of his face forming into a frown. This wasn’t the way meetings between two players in the corporate world usually began. This was how a meeting with an incompetent subordinate might begin.

Damien stayed relaxed, watching his guest. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jackson turn so that he was now casually leaning against the floor to ceiling windows, protected from a deadly fall by nothing more than a few centimeters of glass. He seemed utterly unconcerned, however. Instead, his focus was entirely on Breckenridge, and Damien had to fight to keep back a smug grin. He’d been on the receiving end of that deadly, icy stare. And though he’d come out unscathed, Damien knew just how formidable Jackson could be.

Between the two brothers, this meeting was definitely not going to be a cakewalk for Breckenridge. And Damien considered that a damn good thing.

“I heard about what happened to your daughter,” Breckenridge said, his pale gray eyes as cold as slate. “I was very relieved to hear that she’s come through the ordeal so well. You and your wife must have been terrified. Please give her my regards.”

“I appreciate the good thoughts, Richard. But I don’t think I’ll be mentioning your name to my wife.” He turned the chair so that he could catch Jackson’s eye. “You know Nikki. Do you think she’d want condolences from a man who says the kind of things that my guest here said to her?”

“I don’t imagine any woman wants well-wishes from a man who called her a whore.” Jackson shrugged casually. “Better to stay silent and not ruin her day.”

“Exactly my thought,” Damien said. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, brother.”

Damien watched as a muscle in Breckenridge’s cheek twitched and his hands gripped the leather armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I was upset,” he said evenly. “I spoke without thinking. And as I mentioned to your assistant, I had hoped to see your wife today to give her my apology in person.”

“I’ll deliver that for you. As I believe we’ve established, you’re not anyone she needs to see or talk to.”

“Damien—”

“I think we’ll stick with Mr. Stark. Okay by you, Richard?”

Breckenridge said nothing.

“Now why don’t you tell me just how upset you were the day you spoke to my wife that way?”

The other man’s brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about, Stark?”

Damien raised a brow and said nothing.

“Mister Stark,” Breckenridge said grudgingly.

Damien pressed one of the recessed control buttons on his desktop. The glass in the windows darkened and the overhead lights dimmed. At the same time, a screen dropped from the ceiling on the far side of the room, just over the wet bar. A recessed projector descended from the ceiling, and an image flashed onto the screen. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Breckenridge turned, his eyes going wide as he looked at the image of Nikki’s office. The red Xs spray-painted over the walls and blinds. And the word BITCH standing out in the center of it all.

“I didn’t—you really think I had something to do with this?”

“I did,” Damien admitted. “Watching you now, I’m inclined to change my opinion.” He glanced at Jackson, saw his brother nod in agreement. Whatever else Breckenridge might be, he wasn’t their vandal. Unless, of course, he was the world’s best actor.

“Good,” Breckenridge said, and Damien could practically see the confidence flowing back into the man. “That’s good to hear. Because I’d like us to start fresh.”

“Fresh?”

“With The Domino,” he said, looking from Damien to Jackson and then back to Damien again. “My company is an asset, Mr. Stark. Mr. Steele. You both know that. It’s why you wanted me as one of the original tenants. And God knows my investment helped move the project along.”

“Your investment was returned to you, with a significant negotiated percentage to compensate for any inconvenience. If you have a problem with the terms, I suggest you have your attorney contact Mr. Maynard,” Damien added, referring to his long-time counsel, Charles Maynard.

“Of course. I mean, no. I don’t have a problem with the terms. I should have said re-investment. I want back in.”

“I don’t see that happening,” Damien said. “And as for the company, I think The Domino will do just fine without having Breckenridge Tech as an anchor tenant.”

“So you’re going to keep me out why? Because of spite? You realize that punishing me punishes your father. That man’s in debt to me for a cool two mil. He was going to make that and more from The Domino, and we all know it.”

“That’s right,” Jackson said to Damien. “Jeremiah invested with Richard here so that Richard could invest in The Domino.”

“Yes, yes, exactly,” Breckenridge said, latching onto Jackson’s use of his given name as if it were a sign from God that they were destined to be best friends. “I agreed to extend the deadline for the two mil he owes me so that he could invest his liquid assets in his sons’ extraordinary venture through me. Shut me out and you shut him down, too. Or don’t either of you care about that?”

“If you did your homework, I think you’d know I don’t care about that at all.” Damien swiveled in his chair so he could look straight at Jackson. “How about you? Any niggles of conscious about our father’s current financial state?”

Jackson’s mouth curved into a thoughtful frown, and he shook his head. ?

?No. Not a care in the world.”

“Sorry, Richard,” Damien said. “Looks like you’re dealing with two heartless bastards. Pity.”

“You know, dear old Dad should probably take better care about who he invests with,” Jackson said.

Richard’s face contorted into a snarl as he shot to his feet. “And I’m thinking you two should have thought better about cutting me out for nothing more than the accusations of a few frustrated bitches.”

“On the contrary, I think we made the exact right move. Jackson? Any remorse on clearing the garbage out of the project?”

“I’m feeling pretty good about it.”

“You’re both son-of-bitches, you know that?” He leaned forward, his palms flat on the desktop as he looked Damien hard in the eyes. “You really going to tell me no woman’s ever said you came on too strong?”

Damien didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. “I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but never of rape. Or battery. Or of demanding sex in exchange for a promotion, and then taking what I wanted by force if she had the balls to say no, or destroying her career if she managed to get out of my office unscathed. Unlike you, Richard, I’m a full-fledged supporter of the concepts of no and consent.”

“Well, I hope you never have to face the kind of trumped-up furor I’m dealing with. Hell of a thing to stomach when it’s not true.”

“I’m sure it would be very traumatic—to a man who’s innocent. No—” He held up a hand, forestalling Breckenridge’s next rant. “Do you think we didn’t do our due diligence before removing you? We talked to every one of the women who’ve gone public.”

“And at least a dozen more who stayed quiet,” Jackson added. “Not true? The hell it’s not.”

“And even if we’d never talked to a single one of those women, considering what you said to my wife, I’d be a little hesitant to take you on faith.”

“You’re going to regret this. Do you think I don’t know about you? Do you think that compared to me you have clean hands? Your dad pimped you out for money and fame. He fucked you up, and we both know it. You killed Merle Richter, Stark, and the only reason you’re not rotting in a German jail is that he was a perverted worm.”

Tags: J. Kenner Stark Trilogy Billionaire Romance
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