Fortune's Legacy. Maureen Child
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Garrett never took her seriously. He always looked at her as if he half expected her to show up in tennis whites and serve a backhand across the board-room table. All because her last name was Fortune.
She glanced around her office, taking in the softly soothing pale-lavender walls, the carefully chosen art sprinkled around the room, and the comfortable, yet businesslike chairs. She’d made a place for herself here. Put her own personal stamp on what would have been a distinctly impersonal junior executive’s office.
But she wanted more.
She couldn’t help it. That was just who she was. She knew darn well that some people considered her spoiled. But Kyra didn’t think of herself like that. She wasn’t spoiled. She was…appreciated.
And why shouldn’t she be? she argued silently. She worked hard. She didn’t trade on her family name. She came in early and went home late. She could have gone to work for Fortune TX, Ltd. when she left college. But she hadn’t. Hadn’t wanted anyone to be able to stand back and accuse her of being successful simply because she was a Fortune.
She’d come to Voltage specifically to avoid any whispers of nepotism. And it had worked. In fact, she’d had to work even harder here to prove herself than anyone else. As far as she could see, at Voltage, her family name almost worked against her. Damn it, she’d earned every step she’d taken up the corporate ladder, and she wouldn’t stop until she reached the top.
No matter how hard her arch nemesis, Garrett Wolff, tried to prevent her from succeeding.
Just thinking about the man could make Kyra grind her teeth in frustration. Every time she was around him, her skin hummed and her temper flared. He was a match to her stick of dynamite.
To hide her feelings, she turned away from Tracy’s too-knowing gaze and stared out the window.
The spring sky was the kind of blue you only found in Red Rock, Texas—as bright and sharp a color as the bluebonnets that dotted every meadow in the state. A few high, white clouds scudded across the wide expanse of sky and tossed shadows onto the buildings below. Just outside San Antonio, but officially within the city limits, Kyra thought wryly, the business park had all the charm of a maximum security prison.
The buildings were tall and bland. The landscaping consisted of tiny patches of grass with the occasional baby tree, boasting a branch and a half each, plopped down in the center of said patch. No flowers brightened the sterile environment. Actually, there was no color at all, except for the postage stamp-size splotches of green. The windows in the buildings were mirrored, so that a view only gained you a picture of another building from a different angle.
It would have helped if she’d been able to open up one of her windows and actually feel some real Texas air sweeping in. But they were all sealed tightly, with the gentle hum of an air conditioner blowing recycled air through the rooms, mimicking the wind.
And she wouldn’t even mind the ugly view or the sameness that hung over the ugly business park—if her view had been from the corner office on twenty-six.
This was all Garrett Wolff’s fault.
In her mind’s eye, she saw him, as she did every morning. Mr. Tall, Blond and Oblivious. He looked like a Nordic god and had all the charm of one as well. He rarely looked at Kyra, and when he did, she sensed his disapproval.
Well, too bad.
If he thought for one minute that she was going to be swayed by this last, completely illogical decision of his, he had another think coming. Kyra Fortune never gave up. Never quit.
“There’s still one more promotion to be filled,” Tracy stated, in a determinedly cheerful tone.
“True,” Kyra agreed with a sigh. “But I’m not up for review again until October.” She turned around, pulled out her high-backed, leather desk chair and plopped down onto it. Leaning back, she thought of all the things she’d like to say to Garrett Wolff.
She’d like to stomp down to the elevator, ride it to the top, charge past his überefficient and mildly terrifying administrative assistant, Carol Summerhill, then personally flatten him with a few pithy, well-chosen insults.
But she wouldn’t.
Because to advance at Voltage, she needed to impress, not threaten, Garrett Wolff.
Damn it.
“Kyra?”
She ran the tips of her manicured nails across that letter opener in an idle, stroking motion.
Tracy snapped her fingers a few times.
Jolted out of her thoughts, Kyra smiled at her friend. “Sorry. Daydreaming.”
Tracy’s dark brown eyes sparkled with humor. “And in this daydream, did you get away with arranging an ‘accident’ for Mr. Wolff?”
This is why she worked so well with Tracy. Sarcasm came in handy and a sense of humor was essential. “Not only got away with it,” she said, leaning forward and grinning with real relish, “I took over his job and personally held the very tasteful memorial in his honor.”
“Ooh,” Tracy said, smiling. “Nice touch.”
“I thought so.” Kyra straightened up in her chair, checked her desk calendar with a quick glance, then shifted her gaze to Tracy. “Anyway, promotions, daydreams and wayward wishes aside, we still need to get some business done.”
“Right.” Tracy flipped open her memo pad, clicked her pen and got ready.
“Okay, then.” Kyra pulled a file folder off the stack at her right and said, “Let’s get started with the Hartsfield letter. We need to get the property rights tied up before Fortune TX, Ltd. steps in and claims them.”
“You’re always one step ahead, Boss,” Tracy said, nodding in approval.
“It’s the only way,” Kyra agreed, and tried to push thoughts of Garrett Wolff to the back of her brain.
At least for the moment.
Garrett couldn’t push thoughts of Kyra aside today. Not when his superiors were making such a pitch for him to promote the damn woman.
As senior VP of the expansion division, he should be able to make these calls himself. But he knew better than most just how slippery the slopes were in corporate America.
He’d been at Voltage since leaving college, and he’d eventually worked himself into a position of power. And yet he was being coerced into promoting a woman he didn’t feel was ready for the job.
All because of her name.
Disgusted, Garrett stood up, walked across the plush, dark blue carpet toward a credenza on the far wall. Inside the gleaming wood cabinet sat a coffeemaker. He reached for a heavy porcelain mug and poured himself a cup. Carrying the steaming brew with him, he stalked back to his desk and reread the memo that had arrived only an hour before.
Wolff—
See to a review of Kyra Fortune, then arrange her promotion. As discussed, make no mention of her family ties, but assure Ms. Fortune that her talents are appreciated and valued. Make this happen.
Henderson
Miles Henderson. CEO of Voltage Energy Company. A man with a mission. Garrett suspected Miles was determined to push through a merger with Fortune TX, Ltd. and he wanted Kyra to give him leverage. The board had decided in an emergency meeting the night before that Kyra, by virtue of being a Fortune, would be just the edge they needed when dealing with Fortune TX, Ltd.
Garrett set his coffee cup down on his uncluttered, ebony desktop and then leaned back in his chair. Damned if a part of him didn’t almost feel sorry for the woman. She’d never traded on her name. Never made an issue of it at all.
If she got wind of the truth behind this promotion… Hell, he wasn’t sure what she’d do.
His intercom buzzed. “Yes?”
“Ms.