Gorgeous Grooms: Her Stand-In Groom / Her Wish-List Bridegroom / Ordinary Girl, Society Groom. Jackie Braun
Читать онлайн книгу.
As he recalled his aunt had all but swooned at the time. Derek, however, had seemed to take it all in his stride.
“Your grandfather saw Danbury’s as a family business, and he was troubled that neither of his grandsons was married and starting the next generation.”
Stephen nearly smiled, remembering the arguments that had often occurred after Sunday dinner, at which some dreamy-eyed debutante or another would have turned up at the table.
“Yes, he believed it should remain a family enterprise, passed from one generation of Danburys to the next,” Stephen agreed. Shooting Derek a look, he added, “He didn’t want to see the company sold.”
The lawyer pulled a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket and settled them on his nose.
“Yes, well, your grandfather wanted to ensure its future through your and Derek’s children. Unfortunately, neither of you has married and produced legitimate heirs at this point.”
“So?”
Lyle glanced up nervously, but didn’t maintain eye contact. “Well, you know how Maxwell could be. He thought perhaps a little incentive would move things along.”
“Just cut to the chase, Lyle,” Stephen said impatiently.
Derek’s grin broadened. “Yes, Lyle, get to the good part.”
“Well, as per the terms of the codicil, if by your thirty-fifth birthdays one of you was legally married, and hopefully but not necessarily on the way to fatherhood, he would inherit not just the controlling interest in Danbury’s but all of it, with the exception of the five percent already willed to Marguerite.”
“What are you talking about?”
The lawyer ignored Stephen’s outburst and continued.
“If both of you were married the terms of the original will would stand. But if neither of you were married, which is the case, you were to share the remaining ninety-five percent interest in Danbury’s equally.”
“That’s a lie!” Stephen’s fist pounded the tabletop, followed by an oath.
The lawyer jumped, but he continued in a shaky voice, “You turn thirty-five on Sunday, Derek on Monday. The codicil states—”
“Let me clarify it for him, Lyle,” Derek interrupted. He held up his glass of brandy, as if to offer a toast. “As of Sunday, Mother and I own the controlling interest in Danbury’s.”
“Shut up, Derek,” Stephen said between gritted teeth.
Lyle blotted perspiration from his forehead with a neatly folded handkerchief. “I’m sure Max didn’t add this stipulation to create discord. He was just thinking about the company, and both of you, of course. He wanted to see you married and happy.”
“What Grandfather thought or didn’t think is irrelevant. There’s no codicil, Lyle, and you damn well know it.” Standing, he faced the men sitting across from him. One was grinning smugly. The other was swallowing almost convulsively. Next to them his aunt smiled serenely, thanks to the Botox that had paralyzed a good portion of her facial muscles, but nothing could mask the triumph flashing in her eyes.
“It’s there in black and white, dear, and signed by Maxwell. I can’t believe you could have forgotten about it,” she said with false sympathy.
“I didn’t forget. I have a copy of the will in my safe at home, and there’s no codicil. If that codicil is real I was never informed of its existence.”
“Three people in this room remember things differently,” Derek said.
“I don’t know what kind of game the two of you are playing.” Turning to the attorney, he added, “And I don’t know how they managed to rope you into this. But I’ll take this to court if need be.”
“Take it to court.” Marguerite shrugged. “Everyone who knows Max will find this to be just the type of thing that controlling old man would do. He was never above using a little high-handed pressure to get his way. Truthfully, I’m surprised you didn’t bend to his will. You could easily have ensured a larger inheritance by getting married. You could have married the maid, even. Oh, but that’s been done, hasn’t it?”
“Leave my mother out of this,” Stephen warned.
“So defensive.” Marguerite tsked. “I didn’t mean to dredge up the past. It’s just that you were always so pathetically eager to do Maxwell’s bidding when he was alive, as if by jumping through all the hoops he set out you could somehow win his approval.” She pursed a pair of pouty, collagen-filled lips. “But all he had to do was look at you to know why you weren’t an acceptable Danbury heir.”
Stephen pushed aside the old fury and struggled to concentrate on the matter at hand.
“Grandfather would have wanted the company to stay in the family, Lyle. Even assuming this codicil is real, surely you understand what these two barracudas are up to? And you know I was never informed.”
The attorney glanced up, and then away. But before he did, Stephen thought he saw regret and apology in his gaze.
“As Maxwell’s attorney, it’s not my place to question his motives or what results from them. I’m sorry things did not work out as you would have liked them to, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing,” he repeated on a shaky sigh.
“Fine, this meeting is over, then.” Stephen stalked to the door, yanked it open and glared back at his cousin and his aunt. “Danbury’s is still mine to run until a court of law says otherwise. And it’s not for sale.”
“Don’t be so sure. Fieldman’s has made another offer,” Derek replied, naming one of Danbury’s most formidable competitors. For a man who rarely stumbled into the office for more than a few hours at a time he was suddenly very well versed in Danbury’s financial status, the specifics of the federal bankruptcy code, and just how close Danbury’s was coming to having to file for Chapter Eleven.
“Fieldman’s wants a bigger slice of the market and it’s in a position to pay handsomely to get it. We drag our feet much longer and there will just be bones for the scavengers to fight over. I don’t intend to wait that long.”
“Danbury’s isn’t dead yet. The name is solid. It resonates with consumers.”
“It resonates with consumers sixty and older, so it might as well be dead. Among eighteen to thirty-five-year-olds we’re not even on the radar. That goes double for the under-eighteen market and all their wonderful disposable income.”
“We can turn it around. How can you even consider selling out?”
“Money,” Derek said succinctly. “I’ve taken the liberty of setting up a meeting with Fieldman’s people on Tuesday. I’m taking Monday off, since it’s my birthday and I plan to be celebrating. They’re coming to us, ten a.m. sharp. Get used to the idea, cousin. We’re going to sell.”
“We’ll see about that,” Stephen replied.
Chapter Three
CATHERINE wasn’t sure why she’d come. She could have called Stephen with the additional estimate she’d received on the shelter’s roof. As for his robe, which she’d worn home from their evening on La Libertad, it could have been sent by messenger. But here she stood, in front of his home in one of Chicago’s toniest suburbs, a good forty-minute commute from the city, so she couldn’t possibly claim to have been “just in the neighborhood.”
She’d been to Stephen’s Tudor-style home only a few times, for company management parties he’d hosted while she and Derek were dating. Still, it surprised her to find that he lived on a quiet elm-lined drive where the estates were huge and ivy-covered but still managed to look homey and inviting. Derek lived in the city, in a penthouse apartment high above the throbbing nightlife and bustling streets. She called the city home as well, but she’d always hoped to