The Black Sheep's Secret Child

Observing the exchange between father and son, Savannah almost felt sorry for her father-in-law. If Siggy hadn’t been such a domineering bastard, perhaps they could’ve work through their differences amicably. But Siggy wanted to maintain control of his company, and to do so he needed control over her son.

With the four of them staring each other down, Savannah wasn’t sure what would happen next. Without access to the computers, she had no idea how they could force Gerry or Siggy to open up the books.

But apparently, Trent knew exactly what he was doing. “Things will not go well for you if we get lawyers involved,” he said ominously.

As a privately held company, West Coast Records was not required to file any public documents regarding its finances. The board membership was composed of six of Siggy’s cronies but Savannah doubted they would be interested in being on the receiving end of any legal action she might take against them on behalf of her son.

“Gerry, give them access.” Siggy slid from behind the desk, stalked up to his son and glared at him. “You might have won this round but I’ll burn West Coast Records to the ground before I’ll let you anywhere near this company.”

Bold words, Savannah thought. But as she watched her father-in-law exit the room, she wasn’t completely sure if it was bravado or a touch of madness that drove him where Trent was concerned.

Gerry did something with the computer and then left the room, as well.

As Trent slid behind the desk and began tapping away, Savannah sank into a guest chair opposite him.

“How do you do it?” She sat with her hands clasped tight in her lap and exhaled to calm herself. “How do you face him down so calmly? Doesn’t he get to you?”

“Years of practice have taught me to cope.” But stress lines had appeared beside his compressed lips and his eyes were guarded.

Long minutes ticked by while Trent looked through the computer records. Savannah had a hard time containing her restless energy. Any second she expected Siggy to reappear and begin to berate her once more. If before this she’d been determined to keep Dylan out of his clutches, now she was even more convinced she couldn’t let her son be anywhere near him.

She paced around the room, paying special attention to the photos and awards that lined the walls. From the look of things, the label hadn’t had any great success since the early ’90s. And she had a hard time finding Rafe’s stamp on anything. This made her sad. In many ways her husband had been trapped by his position as eldest son.

Could he have done as Trent had and made his own way? Savannah wasn’t sure Rafe had it in him to break free of his father’s hold. Rafe was firstborn. His father’s pride and joy. The weight of expectation had turned him into a mini Siggy.

“Finding anything?” She came to stand behind Trent and peer over his shoulder at the monitor.

Despite the seriousness of her situation, the stressful confrontation with Siggy and her fears for her son, she couldn’t stop herself from snatching a lungful of Trent’s familiar cologne. Her head spun as her senses came alive. His long fingers darted across the keyboard and she couldn’t help herself from remembering how they’d felt biting down on her skin as she came the previous night.

His thick, wavy hair enticed a woman’s fingers to roam. Not a speck of lint dotted the shoulders of his dark blue suit, but that didn’t stop Savannah’s craving to sweep her fingers across the material. Last night’s reckless encounter had stirred up a beehive of longing. She hungered to touch him again and was willing to make up lame excuses to do so. Before she succumbed to temptation, she put her hands behind her back.

“What are you doing? That doesn’t look like financial records.”

At her question, Trent didn’t glance up. “A friend of mine lent me a program.” He removed a flash drive from the computer’s USB port and slipped it into his pocket.

“What sort of program?” Savannah stepped back as he got to his feet.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

“Is all this really necessary?” She wasn’t sure what to make of Trent’s cloak-and-dagger routine. Was he behaving this way for her benefit? Acting as if the trip to West Coast Records’ offices was more productive than it had been?

Trent spread his fingers across the small of her back and nudged her toward the hallway. “Let’s go.”

Obviously he wasn’t going to say another word while they were still in the building. As badly as she wanted to know what was going on, Savannah was enjoying the warmth of his palm far too much to be hurried.

As on the way in, they encountered no one, but the boardroom door was closed as they passed. Once in the parking lot, Savannah couldn’t restrain her curiosity one second longer. “What’s going on? Were you able to determine anything from the financials?”

“They gave us only the most rudimentary access.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means they were ready for us. We got a year-to-date profit and loss statement and balance sheet. It shows that the company is profitable.”

“How profitable?”

“Enough that they should be paying their artists. But you say they aren’t.”

“That’s the impression that I was given. Maybe they are paying some but not all.”