*
Austin Ford stared hard at his reflection in the gilded mirror of his office’s private bathroom and grinned at what he saw. He had to confess; he was a handsome son of a bitch. His hair was thick and dark with small flecks of gray that suggested sophistication as opposed to age. His face was firm, with laugh lines around his eyes adding warmth, and his figure was trim and fit, hugged fantastically by the Armani suit adorning it.
Overall, life was pretty damned good.
Yes, he still had issues with a family member who would forever be the thorn in his side. But that shit would be handled, too. With the friends Austin had and the favors he was owed, Wes Carter would soon be behind bars again. It was just a question of when.
A burst of auburn wavy hair and large green eyes flashed in the back of Ford’s mind.
Kat.
Austin had always considered himself a charming bastard, and to lose Kat’s affections to his shit-for-brains cousin stung more than he was willing to admit. What the hell did Carter have that he didn’t? Fuck if he knew. Besides, once her convict was back behind bars and she realized what a fuckup he really was, she’d appreciate having a strong shoulder to cry on, a knight to save the day. Austin’s pulse quickened and his palms perspired, but he reined his thoughts in swiftly. Now was no time for being anywhere but on the fucking ball.
He adjusted the large silk knot at his neck and took a deep breath.
Showtime.
He strode out of his bathroom and nodded sharply at Adam, who was, as always, looking like little boy lost.
“Get your shit together,” Austin snapped. He pressed the button for his secretary on the phone at the edge of his desk. “We need to own this.”
“Yeah,” came his brother’s reply.
“You can send him in,” Austin ordered.
Leaning against the desk, Austin looked squarely at his accounts manager and litigator, who both had straight business faces that would have made any normal grown man shit in his pants. Everything was perfect.
There was a sharp knock on the door before the handle turned and a tall blond man in a fabulous gray Gucci suit walked confidently into the office. Austin was a little taken aback by the obvious ease with which he entered, but he covered it with a commanding smile and an outstretched hand.
“Mr. Thomas,” he crooned. “Welcome.”
“Mr. Ford,” Ben replied.
*
Ben took Ford’s hand and shook it firmly, keeping eye contact the entire time. He wasn’t a * by any stretch of the imagination; he’d been in offices like this many times, and dealt with assholes like Ford on a regular basis, but what he was about to do was nothing he’d ever been involved in and, if handled badly, could be a complete and utter catastrophe. People he cared about were counting on him to keep his cool.
He swallowed and placed himself in one of the ridiculously luxurious chairs next to a huge glass table.
“Water?” Ford asked as he, too, sat down.
Ben’s mouth was dryer than the Sahara, but he wasn’t about to give Ford the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable he was. “No,” he replied casually. He opened his briefcase, keeping his eyes fixed on what he was doing. “I’m good. This won’t take long.”
He ignored the derisive snort that came from Ford. “Yes, I’m sure it won’t. But, alas, you were a little vague on the details when we spoke and arranged this meeting. Would you be so kind as to explain just exactly why you are here?”
“I am here on behalf of my client. Mr. Wesley Carter.” Ben’s gaze nailed Ford to his chair. He placed a folder on the glass table and watched as the color of arrogance and control slowly seeped from Ford’s face. “The reason I was vague about this meeting, Mr. Ford,” Ben began, while calmly steepling his hands on the table, “is because, as you can surmise, the situation is a delicate one.”
Ford remained stock-still. “How so?”
Ben smirked at the attempt at nonchalance and opened Carter’s file. “As you’re aware, your largest shareholder is Mr. W. Carter of New York, as was directed by his”—Ben looked up with a sparkle in his eyes—“your grandmother’s will.”
Ford sat back in his seat and crossed his right leg over his left, ready to pounce. “I’m very well aware of that, Mr. Thomas. What’s your point?”
“My point is that my client has on several occasions asked for his share within the company to be acknowledged with an appropriate salary and input on all company decisions, including those at board level.” Ben waited. He was met with nothing but stern, unforgiving eyes and silence. “He hasn’t been granted either.”