“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He pushed slowly to his feet. “You hated him, and while I don’t think that’s unfounded, I’m also going to honor his final wish. I’m asking your permission out of respect, but if you don’t give it, I’m going to see this done regardless.”
The only sign of her anger was a slight tightening around her eyes. The smile she gave him was as practiced as it was warm. “Of course you can scatter my darling brother’s ashes on the property. I’ll be sure to have someone waiting to ensure you don’t have any problems.”
“Generous of you, but that won’t be necessary.”
Lydia stood. She wore a perfectly tailored white pantsuit that molded to her lean form. “On the contrary, it’s entirely necessary.” She rounded the desk and leaned against it, the very picture of a successful businesswoman. “I’d like to make you an offer.”
This should be good. “I’m listening.”
“I’m more than happy to hand over Thistledown Villa and the accompanying land, along with a hefty amount of money—in exchange for Morningstar Enterprise.”
He stared, waiting for the punch line. When none came, Beckett shook his head. “I’m not selling you my company.”
Lydia sighed. “Beckett, stop reacting and think for a moment. Do you really want to be the CEO of that company? Up until this point you’ve been living the life of the unfettered, traveling and partying, and, while there was undoubtedly business in the mix, your focus was elsewhere. I don’t think you’ve stayed in Houston for more than a few months since you graduated college and took over the VP position for your father. Running Morningstar isn’t going to be fun. It’s going to be hard, thankless work.”
Beckett gritted his teeth. She would see his business travel as evidence that he wasn’t prepared. The truth was that Beckett had been helping run the company for years, though up until this point he and his father had divided things right down the center—Nathaniel took everything in Houston, and Beckett handled everything else. It had the dual purpose of letting him expand Morningstar’s reach while keeping them mostly apart over the years. Minimizing conflict.
Not that he expected Lydia to understand. By all accounts, she ruled her four children with an iron fist. “It’s a moot point what you believe. My father named me as CEO and willed me his shares—not you. Morningstar is mine, Lydia. It’s not for sale, and neither am I.”
“Beckett…” She considered him. “I know for a fact he kept you from the worst of what being a CEO of a company like this means. You’d be much happier finding some nice girl, having a handful of babies, and living off your trust fund.”
Guess the gloves are off. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her. “Cute speech. Were you practicing that while my father’s body lay cold in the morgue until I made it back from Beijing to identify him? He always said you were a—” He cut himself off before finishing the sentence. There was no damn point. This whole meeting had been a waste of time.
“A what? A harpy. A bitch.”
He forced himself not to flinch. Beckett shook his head. “I would never call you any of those things.” His dislike of her might be growing by the second, but there had to be lines.
She gave him a viper’s smile, as if she could hear his thoughts. “Morals won’t get you anywhere in this business, Beckett.”
“Yeah, well, I like being able to sleep at night. See you around, Lydia.” Beckett walked through the door and shut it softly behind him. He took the elevator down to the main floor and headed out onto the street, his thoughts whirling. She hadn’t wasted a single second before trying to pounce on Morningstar. There were plenty of cold people in this business—it was essentially a requirement—but this went above and beyond cold.
Lydia King wasn’t cold. She was fucking subzero.
Chapter Three
Samara was almost out her door when her phone rang. She cursed and then cursed again when she saw who was calling. After taking a second to make sure she didn’t sound out of breath or frazzled, she forced a smile and answered. “Good morning, Lydia.”
“I’m afraid I need another favor.”
After the long night before, all Samara really wanted to do was meet her friend for their coffee date and then head into the office to work on the presentation part of the proposal. If Lydia needed something at this hour, it didn’t mean anything good for Samara’s plan for the day. Doesn’t matter. I’m her number two for a reason, and that means no bitching about more work. Not now, when we’re so close to edging out Morningstar Enterprise. “What do you need from me?”
“It’s a bit delicate, but you’re the one best suited for the job.”
This isn’t going to be good. “What job?”
“My darling nephew came to see me this morning. He’s got it into his head that he needs to scatter his father’s ashes at Thistledown Villa. I can’t very well have him traipsing out there without supervision, so I need you to accompany him.”
She blinked. Of all the things she’d expected, that didn’t even make the list. Samara started to point out that she wasn’t a babysitter but stopped. Lydia wasn’t stupid. In all Samara’s years of working for the company—for Lydia—she’d never seen the woman waste a resource, and sending Samara on a babysitting mission was a waste of resources.
Which meant there was something more she wanted to accomplish.
“Beckett is off his stride, and if you put a little effort into it, I’m sure you can convince him to talk with you. The more you speak, the higher the chance that he lets something vital slip.”
Convince him.
She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She could point out that it wasn’t in her job description to convince Beckett to do anything, or to comment on the fact that there were other
