Mended (Connections, #3)(80)

She opens his door and holds it open for me to enter. I walk into his over-the-top office—a huge mahogany desk, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view, four large-screen TVs on a red wall, a sheepskin rug with a large leather sofa on top of it. All very designer chic, all very impersonal. He’s standing at the bar, pouring himself what looks to be a scotch. He raises his glass. “I’d offer you one, but you won’t be here long enough to drink it and I hate to waste hundred-year-old Balvenie.”

Striding across the room in two seconds flat, I decide I’ve had enough of him. I snatch his shirt, but stay in complete control of my actions. I push him roughly, slamming his back up against the wall. “You disgust me.” I stare hard into his cold brown eyes and repeat myself. “You disgust me . . .”

He struggles to free himself from my hold. “You’re just like your father,” he hisses.

I flinch and let go of him. “You’re right. I am. Nick was a decent man. Nothing like you.”

He gives a sad laugh. “You’re wrong. He was weak. Easily manipulated. But what I meant is that you’re like Dylan, my brother. He wasn’t so easily fooled, but he was easily feathered. It’s been fun watching you get so riled up. I could do it to my brother with a simple word, and I looked forward to perfecting my technique on you. It’s a shame everything came to an end sooner than I had hoped, but now I can show you what a great uncle I can be. And I’ll start by telling you how well I can take care of my wife.”

He gives me a cocky grin and although I want to knock it off his face, I’m choking, shuddering at his audacity. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind his bar and rein my temper in. For Ivy, I keep reminding myself. Keep your cool for your girl.

“But before we discuss my wife, let me start by telling you a little bit about the man that owned this company—the great Josh Wolf, my father, your grandfather. He was a man who ruled with an iron fist, always logic and numbers, never any emotion. So getting Nick Wilde fired was easy. I knew all I had to do was show poor performance—no matter how much my father liked Nick, he was a businessman through and through and nothing but performance mattered in both his personal and professional life. Oh, wait—there was one tiny exception to that rule—Dylan, my brother, your father. The great Josh Wolf loved that boy in a way he loved no one else—Dylan could do no wrong. Ironic, since he was a user, a drug addict who couldn’t keep clean. I always tried to help my brother. I lived with him, I took care of him, I picked him up off the floor numerous times. And how did he repay me—by dating the woman I worked so hard to get. I deserved your mother . . . he didn’t. Do you know that when he overdosed, my father blamed me? Me!” he screams. “And then your mother—she went back to Nick.”

I don’t move. I’m caught in the web of the story he’s spinning.

“My father never forgave me for Dylan’s death and for years I had to prove to him I was worthy to be a part of his business. I had to make my way up the ladder and even after I landed Zeak Perry as a client, that wasn’t enough. Only when he took ill did I earn my rightful place. And then in his death I learn the bastard didn’t leave me the company—he left me half. I’d been under the impression my inheritance had a marriage clause. I never thought it had you in it. Never saw it coming. He didn’t seem to care about you. The night I told him you existed he didn’t even blink an eye. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the anniversary of Dylan’s death and he was putting my brother on a pedestal again. I couldn’t take it, so I just blurted out that at least I didn’t have an illegitimate son out there. You see, he knew about you for years and never did anything, never cared—not until he died anyway. How does that make you feel?”

I don’t bother to tell him Josh Wolf sought out my mother—that he knew about me and that he did care. He cared enough to do as my mother wished. His knowing the facts wouldn’t change anything. The man in front of me is vile, evil to the core, and I want to rid my life of him as soon as I can. I reach in my pocket and pull out the documents showing my fifty percent ownership.

“Ahhh . . . so you’re not here to meet your dear old uncle. I was wondering when you’d get to the point. How long it would take. But finally!” Damon says, walking to his desk. “The reason you’re here.” He claps his hands together as if congratulating himself. “You’re here for your half of the company. What do you think? Should we share desk space? Make decisions together? How do you think my dear old dad saw this going? Did he think we’d make an excellent team?”

I stare at him. He is so cold that I freeze. Falter. Words can’t explain how this man makes me feel. Finally I find my voice. “Why did you go see my father the day he killed himself?” I ask the question I’ve wanted to know the answer to for so long, unconcerned as to what position that puts me in in his eyes—because I know without a doubt that when this meeting is over I will be the winner.

A smile slowly spreads across his face. He touches his fingertips to the desk and leans on it. “For you and your brother. Boy bands were popping up everywhere and I had one in my backyard. I wanted to represent you both, but Nick was adamant that he wasn’t going to let me. I may have mentioned telling you about Dylan and then I gave him twenty-four hours to decide. But we both know how he responded to that.”