“I take that as a compliment,” she said softly as tears leaped to her eyes.
His reddened face, so angry, made her frightened, made her pause.
“Father,” she started, working to keep her voice even and gentle, “all I’ve ever wanted was to please you. But you had no right to tell Shane that I would marry him. I won’t. I can’t. I’m not in love with Shane.”
“If you had any interest in pleasing me, girl,” he sneered, “then you would know that marrying Shane and having some strong Story sons would have been the ticket. If that doesn’t appeal to your useless sensibilities about”—he sniffed derisively—“love, we have nothing further to discuss.”
“Father—”
“You’re excused,” he said, pinning her with a disgusted look before picking up his phone and dialing. “Yes, I need a security guard sent up immediately to escort Miss Story from the premises. She no longer works for Story Imports, and I would prefer to avoid a scene like the one precipitated by my other daughter.”
Her breaking heart snapped as she stood up from her chair. She stared at her father with a fury that matched his own.
“You will regret this,” she promised him softly, her tears drying up suddenly as a coldness infused her whole body. “When you’re old and gray and alone, you will regret that you forced your daughters to hate you.”
“My cross to bear,” he said, then leveled his eyes at her, taunting her with his words. “Recall, will you, Margaret, that your trust is, and has always been, under the purview of your parents until the event of their demise, and, your dear mother’s passing aside, I am still very much—”
“Are you threatening my—”
A security guard knocked once on the open door, then stood awkwardly in the doorway. Margaret glanced at him, then looked back at her father.
“—alive. Now, get out.” He tented his fingers under his chin. “Your escort has arrived.”
“Do I mean nothing to you?”
His face didn’t crack as he stared back at her. “Good day, Margaret,” he said, then turned his attention entirely to his computer screen.
Margaret pivoted and allowed herself to be escorted from the premises of Story Imports.
***
“Barrett!” said Cameron, waving to his friend, Alex English’s oldest brother, from across the dining room of the Penn Club taproom.
He watched the sandy-haired man weave his way to the reserved table and shook his hand heartily once he’d arrived, gesturing for Barrett to take a seat.
“Good to see you, Cam,” said Barrett with a nod. “All good?”
“Can’t complain. How’s Emily?”
Barrett grinned upon hearing his new bride’s name. “She’s fine. Tell me, when are you taking the plunge?”
Cameron chuckled. “No imminent plans.”
“Did I hear the wedding’s been moved?”
Cameron nodded, sitting back down in his chair. “Winterhaven canceled the contract a few weeks ago. Bastards.”
“But Alex informed us you’ve found an alternative location? A vineyard?”
“That’s right,” Cameron said, pausing to ask the waiter to bring them a bottle of San Pellegrino. He turned back to Barrett. “Margaret Story owns a vineyard about an hour from here. I’m helping her renovate the winery in time for the wedding.”
“Well,” said Barrett, “that’s no small task. It’s only a few weeks away.”
“It’s amazing what you can do when price is no object.”
“No object?” Barrett’s shrewd blue eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t think a vineyard was the sort of investment you’d pour money into. Don’t you boys run more with the financial crowd?”
“Actually,” said Cameron, “that’s what I’d like to talk to you about.”
Barrett sat back in his chair and looked at Cameron with interest. “A new investment opportunity?”
The Winslows and Englishes had just partnered on a successful shipping merger last year, combining three of the top shipping companies in the world into the largest publicly traded shipping company based on the eastern seaboard of the United States. They had a good track record working together on lucrative deals, so Cameron understood Barrett’s sudden interest. In fact, he counted on it.
“In a manner of speaking.” Cameron squeezed some lime into his sparkling water before looking up. “A financial company here in Philly is available for private sale. Mostly private equity, some mergers and acquisitions. Old name, respected. Flush clientele list and several projects in the hopper.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d guess it was C & C Winslow,” said Barrett, raising his glass to his lips.
Cameron locked his eyes with Barrett’s and nodded. “Funny you’d say that.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Cameron sighed. “I am.”
“Your father started that company.”
“And I’ve been saddled with it.”
“But Chris . . .”
“He’s pursuing a congressional bid.”
“Huh. I thought controller.”
Cameron shook his head. “Nope. Congress. He’s not coming back, Barrett.”