The Black Sheep's Secret Child. Cat Schield
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Trent was starting to see where she was going. “You’ve got Gerry.” Gerry Brueger had been Siggy’s second in command for twenty years. Passed over for president when Siggy stepped down and installed Rafe as the head of the company, Gerry would jump at the chance to take over.
“It’s not that simple. I need a CEO I can trust. Someone who gets the business and can turn things around.”
“So hire someone.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” She cocked her head and scowled at him.
“Me?” This was not at all what he’d expected. Trent shook his head. “Not interested.”
“It’s your family’s company.”
“It’s my father’s company.” And his brother’s. They’d never wanted him to be a part of it. “Besides, my father isn’t going to welcome my interference.” He noticed that her gaze shifted away. “Have you talked to Siggy about this?”
“It’s my decision.” But she sounded less confident than she’d been moments earlier.
“So you haven’t mentioned any of this to Siggy?”
“He sold a majority of his shares in the business to Rafe. Dylan inherited them. Siggy isn’t in control of the company anymore.”
Her naïveté was showing. She might think she was in charge, but she was in for a huge battle if she thought she could bring Trent into the record company. He almost felt sorry for her.
“Sell the company back to Siggy and wash your hands of it.”
“It’s not that cut-and-dried.” She set her untouched glass of water on a nearby table and squared her shoulders. “He won’t buy back Rafe’s shares, but I know he’s planning to control things behind the scenes. Siggy intends for Dylan to run the company someday.” Savannah paused and compressed her lips into a thin line. With a sigh, she continued, “In the meantime, I can’t run it and I don’t trust your father to be able to turn things around.”
“Turn things around?” Trent had heard rumblings that West Coast Records was having financial problems. No surprise there—Siggy Caldwell’s approach to the music industry was uninspired and his eldest son had been a chip off the old block. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not exactly sure, because I’ve been getting the runaround from Gerry, but I think they’re behind on paying royalties to their artists.”
“When did this start?”
“I don’t know. Shortly after we were married, Rafe confided to me that the company was struggling financially before your father retired.” That had occurred three years earlier. “And after the cancer started eating away at Rafe, he wasn’t making the best decisions. I’m sure things got much worse then.”
Trent ignored the compulsion that demanded he step in and fix everything. “While this is all fascinating, what does any of it have to do with me?”
“The company needs you.” Her big blue eyes went soft and concerned in the way that always kicked him hard in the solar plexus.
Trent’s first impulse was to laugh. He never got the chance. Questions crowded in. He didn’t give a damn about the company. But did she need him? Trent crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her through half-closed eyes. She was beautiful. Poised. But not happy. He should’ve felt triumphant. Instead there was a dull ache in his gut.
“You know, better than most, that isn’t going to sway me. Try again.”
She gazed at the blank walls that made up his office. If she was looking for some clue about how to appeal to him, she wouldn’t find it there. He was a man who didn’t give a damn about anything. Or that’s the face he showed the world. It made it much harder for someone to hurt him if he showed no vulnerability.
“Prove to your father you’re a better businessman than he is.”
He should be gloating. Trent—not his father or brother—would be the one to save the struggling West Coast Records, but his only emotion was bitterness.
“He would never believe that.” The great Siggy Caldwell never owned up to his mistakes. He sure as hell wouldn’t admit that his pitiful excuse for a second son was a better anything. “If that’s the best you have, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”
She let the silence fill the space between them for a beat before speaking. “I need your help.”
He resisted the urge to sweep her into his arms and pledge his support. She was staring at him in desperate hope, as if he was her knight in shining armor. That was the farthest thing from reality. Sure, maybe he’d helped her out a time or two in the past, but she wasn’t his responsibility anymore. The time for rescuing her had ended sixteen months earlier when she’d promised to love, honor and cherish his brother.
“And just like that, you expect me to drop everything and rush to your aid?” It cost him, but he gave his words a sardonic twist and hardened his heart. “It’s not going to happen.”
Despite all the times he’d rescued her in the past, Savannah knew she shouldn’t have counted on Trent helping her. She’d committed the ultimate sin. She’d married his brother.
And now she was stuck in an untenable position. Her one-year-old son had inherited stock she couldn’t sell to a third party without her father-in-law’s permission. This meant as an asset it held no value for her. And because of the way the record label was hemorrhaging money, the stock would be worthless in no time.
Begging to be rescued was too humiliating and probably wouldn’t work anyway. Negotiating was a much more palatable option. Once again, she channeled Courtney Day. Relaxing her shoulders, she spoke in her alter ego’s confident tone.
“What can I say or do to change your mind?”
“I don’t know.” Something flickered in Trent’s eyes. “What are you offering?”
“I have nothing to bargain with.”
Cards on the table, she maintained her poker face while his gaze raked over her. Heat rose to her skin. It wasn’t humiliation she felt, but desire. If confronted, he would deny that he wanted her, but the flare of his nostrils and the way his pupils dilated hinted that the chemistry between them hadn’t faded.
“You have something.”
Savannah shook her head, unsure if what she was picking up off him was real or wishful thinking. “Rafe burned through all our cash chasing alternative medical treatments that didn’t work,” she said. “After he died, I had to sell the house to pay off his debts.”
And she’d come up short by a million. She’d counted on selling Rafe’s shares back to Siggy for enough money to clear the debt and maybe have a little bit to start over somewhere new.
But Siggy didn’t want his shares back. He wanted Rafe’s son.
“The only thing of value left is Dylan’s shares in the company,” she continued. “But I can’t touch that.”
“I don’t want money,” Trent said.
No, of course not. He could buy West Coast Records three times over. “What do you want?”
That she was putting herself in his hands occurred to her the instant the words were past her lips. But what else could she do? Siggy was willing to clear her debt but insisted she and Dylan move in with him. Her father-in-law’s opinion of her was low. He hadn’t approved of his son marrying her and he’d let her know that on several occasions. The thought of living in that toxic environment made her panic.
“Why did you marry my brother?”
The