The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

“Excellent.” My youngest son hadn’t inherited my head for numbers, but instead his mother’s charm. We’d long discussed Vance’s future in politics, and my aspirations for him reached toward 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Working for Damon’s campaign would be the perfect first step in his career.

More cars arrived, and after Royce and I received them, the board members and their wives were ushered to a golf cart and whisked down the lawn, disappearing behind the stables in the distance.

We were only waiting on Mr. and Mrs. Powell when a silver BMW barreled up the drive and sped around the fountain, braking to a hard stop beside me. Displeasure dug into me, and I seized the passenger door handle to reprimand the driver—

The woman who stepped out of the back seat was dressed head to toe in black. Her long coat was wrapped around her, belted at her narrow waist, and poised over a pair of heeled boots that looked as expensive as they were impractical. The single dark hue of her clothes exaggerated the contrast of her honey-colored hair and ruby lips, but I ignored how striking she was. Exasperation twisted so violently inside my chest it was difficult to find words.

“Ms. Alby,” I leveled the full power of my gaze on her, “your trip is wasted. My decision on your proposal was final.”

Her red lips spread into that dazzling smile I found both enjoyable and infuriating. “I’m not here to change your mind.” She skewed her mouth to one side momentarily, reconsidering her words. “I mean, I might be. But that’s not why I came.”

I still had a grip of the car door, and my fingers tensed to the point of discomfort. My voice was colder than the wind playing with the tendrils of her hair. “What reason brings you here, then?”

“I invited her.”

I turned to glare my surprise at my son. Once, he would have lowered his gaze in response, but Royce had found his footing with me. His days of bending to my will were over.

“Why is that?” I asked in careful words, the edges so sharp it made Marist look away.

But Royce wasn’t fazed. “She mentioned she was looking for work, and you need an assistant.”

I ripped my hand off the door handle so I could ball it into a fist. Ms. Alby and Royce had worked together to orchestrate this setup, and I wouldn’t abide. “No.”

It was as if she hadn’t heard me. Her driver pulled a long bag from the trunk of the BMW, and she took it from him, tossing a polite thank you to the maniac who’d screeched to a stop in my driveway. The bag looked designed to carry a shotgun, likely borrowed from her father.

“Why do you have that?” I demanded.

She paused, and her gaze darted to both Marist and Royce. “Aren’t we shooting skeet today?”

“Only the men,” I said. “The women don’t.”

“Why?” She blinked. “Afraid they’ll beat you?”

Marist made a sound like she’d strangled back a chuckle, but my tone patronized. “Hardly. They’re never interested.”

“Well, I’m interested. Are you any good?”

Ms. Alby’s cavalier question bordered on rude. Of course I was. I excelled at whatever I put my focus on. “No,” my chest lifted with pride, “I’m excellent.”

“Yeah?” Her attention dropped to the bag, her hands gripping the straps, and she appeared lost in thought. Abruptly, her head snapped up and her gaze locked on mine. “How about a deal? We can play each other. If I beat you, you accept my offer.”

Interest sparked inside me, but I squashed it down. “What will I get when I win?”

It was as if she hadn’t considered that probable outcome. “Then . . . I won’t make my offer again.”

“And you’ll leave,” I added.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

I strode toward her and slipped a hand around her elbow, not caring that I didn’t have permission to touch her. Her coat was a thick barrier between us, and my touch wasn’t harsh, but her blue eyes widened as she stared up at me. She’d shown up uninvited, as far as I was concerned. This was my house, and therefore it would be my rules, and I could kill two birds with one stone.

My voice dipped low. “And you’ll tell me whose secret you were hoping I’d reveal.”

Her breath caught and hung between her parted lips. Leaving was one thing, but the stakes were suddenly much higher for her. Of course, they were nonexistent for me. In the unlikely event I lost, I’d be saddled with an assistant who I would immediately find cause to fire.

I didn’t make deals unless I knew I could live with either outcome.

For a moment, she considered retreating, and my curiosity intensified. At best, she could put off the inevitable. I’d find out her secret, one way or another.

I tipped my head down toward the bag in her hands. “Have you shot that thing before?”