The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(15)
That wasn’t a question. You don’t have to answer it.
She ignored the not-so-helpful inner voice. “I can’t be gone long, Frank. I realize being one of the richest men in Houston means you have an army of staff at your beck and call, but my company is in danger of going under—partly because of actions you took against my mother. Some of us don’t have the luxury of being able to take a long lunch.” Poking at him wouldn’t do either of them a bit of good. She needed him, and he’d already agreed to help. Dicking around only threatened to ruin what little ability they had to fake a relationship long enough for him to do what was required.
His lips curved into a full smile, and she even caught a flash of white teeth. “Is that all? Funny, Duchess, but I was under the impression you were running because I make you nervous.”
*
Temper sparked in Journey’s eyes, a temper that Frank deliberately provoked as their conversation went on. He didn’t know how to deal with her fear. Just as well. It’s not my business. Journey isn’t my business.
Mira strode up with a tray of their food and stopped short next to the table. “What did you do, Frank?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why are you so sure I’m to blame?”
“Because I know you.” She set the plates in front of them with the ease of long practice, and her gently chiding tone took some of the sting from her words. Mira smiled at Journey. “Don’t let Frank scare you. He’s all bark and no bite for someone like you.”
The fact that she felt the need to put a qualifier on that statement meant she knew a lot more about him than he’d realized. Of course she does. She’s a mother. Frank made an effort to keep himself toned down for Mira and her family. He liked them, and he was all too aware of what she’d think about the times when his only guiding light for his actions boiled down to one truth—power was everything. Sometimes that meant using information to push people into choices they wouldn’t have made on their own.
Choices that benefited him and his company.
Journey’s smile wasn’t a fraction of its normal wattage, though not from lack of trying. “You sound like you know him well.”
“I do. I’ve known Frank since he was, what, twenty?” She glanced at him for confirmation but charged on before he could grant it. “He helped my husband and me stay above water, and to prosper in the meantime. Don’t let the growling and poor attitude warn you off—he’s a good man.” And then she was gone, marching back toward the hostess stand to meet a pair of women who’d just come through the front door.
“A good man,” Journey repeated, almost to herself. She frowned. “How much did you have to pay her to get her to say that?”
He bit back a chuckle. “Mira isn’t the type of woman who can be paid off for anything, let alone false compliments.” He watched the woman lead the other two to a table, chatting all the while. “I’ve known her a long time. She’s a nice lady.”
“Yeah, I guess she is.” Journey shook her head and picked up her fork. She set it down just as quickly, looking a little green. “Nothing personal, but I’m not hungry.”
He considered that statement, weighing it. Granted, he and Journey had only shared a handful of meals that were all business related, but she seemed to go after food the same way she went after everything in life. Reveling in it. Frank took a bite of his chicken, still watching her. From Frank’s information, her father had been back in town for only a few days, which didn’t explain the evidence of prolonged lack of self-care that he saw written all over her. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Why does that sound like an accusation instead of a compliment?”
He ignored that. “You’re not sleeping, and your shaking hands are either a result of too much coffee to compensate or sheer stress. How long has this been going on?”
She gripped her fork like she wanted to stab him with it, and then very carefully set it down and lined it up perfectly with the knife next to it. “I won’t let it negatively affect things going forward.”
“It’s already affecting things.” He moderated his tone, smothering his frustration and leaving his words cold and clipped. “How long?”
Journey sighed. “Since before my mother left for New York. There was a…verbal confrontation with my father on the phone while things were going down with Beckett. It’s not important, other than it dredged up some things I’m still dealing with. As a result, sleep is in short supply.” She met his gaze steadily. “Like I said, I won’t let it affect things.”
Frank shook his head. “You can’t keep going on like this, Duchess. You’ll snap before I have a chance to do my job.”
She thinned her lips. “Another condition?”
“Just speaking the truth. As soon as we came to an agreement, you became an asset. I take care of my assets.” That’s all. It has nothing to do with hating to watch her unravel in front of me.
She poked at her food. “I’m not an asset. I’m a person—a partner. If I’d wanted a babysitter, I would have hired one.”
They could go back and forth on this until the sun went down, wasting both their time. She’d resist solely out of spite even though she had to know he was right in this instance. So be it. He’d find a way around her, just like he did with every problem that arose. If he had to play dirty to protect his investment, he would.