Текст книги "About That Night"
Автор книги: Julie James
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Chuck paused. “Of course, a bookstore. It’s all coming back to me now.” He pointed. “The calculus textbook. Now that’s a cute story.”
“Classical Civ.”
“Probably best if we never mention this part of the conversation to your father.”
“Agreed,” Kyle said. “Now, aside from scarring me for life and ruining every sanitized, wholesome image I had of my parents’ first meeting, why else did you want to meet today?”
Chuck rested his arms on the table, getting serious. “He can’t do this, Kyle. He’s the CEO of a billion-dollar company.”
“And as CEO, I would think he’s entitled to some personal time,” Kyle growled protectively. “My mother just died three weeks ago.”
“I’m not trying to drag him into the office. But if he could at least make himself accessible. Pick up his cell phone once in a while. Let people know that he’s still in command,” Chuck said. “The other board members are starting to wonder what’s going on.”
“Surely they understand these are unusual circumstances.”
“They do. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is a privately owned business. Your father is Rhodes Corporation.” He shifted in his chair, as if debating how to continue. “As general counsel for the company, I’m obliged to mention that in the event your father was ever to become incapacitated, he named you as his legal representative. Which means that you would be in charge of running his affairs, both personal and business—including the controlling management of the company.”
Kyle felt the burning in his eyes. He’d known, obviously, that his father had always wanted him to work for Rhodes Corporation but had had no idea that he had this much faith in him. It was an honor, and also an incredible responsibility, but most of all he could not believe that things had gotten to the point where he and Chuck needed to have this conversation. True, his father wasn’t himself these days. But no matter how messed up the situation was, there was one thing they needed to get straight, right then and there.
“No one is declaring my father incapacitated,” Kyle said, looking the general counsel right in his eyes. “That man built an empire—he’s a genius and an extremely powerful businessman. I dare anybody to say otherwise.”
Chuck’s expression was sympathetic. “I’m not the enemy here, Kyle. I’m trying to help. You’re right, he did build an empire. And now somebody needs to start running it. Otherwise, people will begin to say all sorts of things, whether you and I like it or not.”
Kyle got the message, loud and clear. And during the thirty-minute drive along Lake Michigan back to his father’s north shore estate, he debated what approach to take. Ultimately, he decided the direct one was best.
When he got back, he walked straight into the study and found his dad sitting at his desk, scrolling listlessly through photographs of an older-model car on his computer. Since his mother’s death, his father had expressed some interest in restoring a classic car, something he used to do as a hobby before his company had exploded with the Rhodes Anti-Virus.
“Find anything?” Kyle asked as he took a seat in front of the desk.
“A guy up in McHenry is selling a ‘68 Shelby,” Grey said in a subdued tone.
Every time his father spoke, it struck Kyle how unlike his father he seemed. Dispirited. Listless. Somber. A stark contrast to the dynamic, almost larger-than-life man Kyle had known for twenty-four years.
“McHenry is only about an hour away. Maybe we can drive out there tomorrow and take a look at it,” Kyle said.
“Maybe.”
Kyle had been suggesting excursions like this for the last three weeks, none of which had come to fruition. Although his dad talked about rebuilding a car, he didn’t seem to have much interest in taking any steps to actually pursue that. Then again, he didn’t have much interest in anything.
Grey turned to Kyle with a tired smile. “Maybe you could drive out there and look at the car for me. You need to get out of this house as much as I do.”
“Actually, I did go out today. I met Chuck Adelman for lunch.”
Grey’s face went flat. “Really. And what did Chuck have to say?”
Kyle decided it probably wasn’t the best time to bring up the Hash Wednesday revelation. Frankly, the image of his father wearing bell-bottoms, smoking a joint, and calling his mother a “totally groovy chick” was wrong on so many levels he wanted to erase the whole thing from his memory. “You need to start returning calls and e-mails,” he said bluntly. His father was a grown man—perhaps a little tough love was in order.
“Chuck is overstepping his bounds. He shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this.”
“I think it would be good for you to get back to work, Dad. It’ll be something to take your mind off things.”
“I don’t want anything to take my mind off things.”
Kyle sat quietly for a moment. “It’s not dishonoring Mom if we move forward with our lives. That’s what she would want us to do.”
Grey turned back to his computer. “I gave up so much for that company. Not anymore.”
The comment took Kyle by surprise. Because his father had grown up with little money, he’d always been particularly proud of his success. Talk to the man for five minutes, and he would find some subtle way of bragging about the fact that the Rhodes Anti-Virus protected one in every three computers in America. “What are you talking about? You love that company.”
Grey shook his head. “Not as much as I loved her. She was…everything. I just hope she knew that.”
His father began crying. Kyle started to rise from his chair, but his father immediately held out a hand.
“Don’t. I’m fine,” Grey said. He wiped his eyes, quickly composing himself.
“Dad—”
“I put off so many things,” Grey said, cutting him off. “That safari trip, for example. How many times did your mother talk about that? She did all the research and planned this two-week vacation to South Africa and Botswana for us. What did I say? That things were too busy for me and that we would go next year.” He struggled to control his emotions. “Guess I broke that promise, didn’t I?”
After a moment, he cleared his throat. “She also wanted to take a couples cooking class at six o’clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but that was tough for me to do with the traffic coming back from the city. So I told her we’d do it next year instead. I could go on and on about all the missed moments.” He looked over at Kyle, his face filled with regret. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it, son.” His eyes were a distant, cool blue. “But the whole damn company can rot for all I care. None of it means anything without her.”
Kyle knew from his father’s quiet but firm tone that the conversation was over.
He left the study and called Chuck, and outlined his plan to the general counsel. Once his father was thinking clearly again, he could do whatever he wanted with Rhodes Corporation. He’d built the place, so if he ultimately wanted to sell it and spend the rest of his life rebuilding 1968 Shelbys in his five-car garage, that was his prerogative. But that decision was not going to be made by the man currently sitting behind his father’s desk—because that man was not Grey Rhodes.
Consequently, the following afternoon he met with the company’s eight executive vice presidents. He deliberately chose to meet with them in his father’s office and, just as deliberately, sat behind his father’s desk while he explained what the plan would be for the foreseeable future.
“The eight of you will carry on with the day-to-day responsibilities of your divisions,” he told them. “Any decisions that need to be made by the CEO should be presented to me, with your recommended plan of action. I’ll make sure my father responds.”
Kyle doubted that any of the executive VPs in that room actually believed that Grey Rhodes would be making such decisions, but they had all worked with his father for years, respected him, and were fiercely loyal. Without any dissent, they offered their support to Kyle and said they would help in any way they could.
In many ways, being the de facto CEO of Rhodes Corporation was not as difficult as Kyle had imagined. Granted, he had Chuck’s advice and counsel, as well as that of the executive VPs, but he was surprised by how much he enjoyed taking on a leadership role—even a covert one.
“You could really do this, you know,” Chuck said to him one evening at the weekly “state of the company” meeting Kyle had set up for the two of them. For convenience, and to avoid the questions that might arise if they met too often in Grey’s office, they were back at the restaurant where Chuck had first approached him about taking over for his father. “You have great business instincts.”
Kyle flipped through a report he’d received earlier that day from the vice president of content security, detailing the initial sales results of a new subscription-based endpoint and e-mail protection service they’d recently launched. “I’m just the computer geek. Jordan’s the one who got the Rhodes business gene.”
Chuck looked pointedly at the open report Kyle held. “You sure about that? You’ve had your nose stuck in that sales report so long, your steak’s getting cold.”
“Maybe I’m just watching my girlish figure.”
Chuck chuckled. “Or maybe that business gene got passed on to both Rhodes twins.”
Things continued on this way for several weeks. The party line at Rhodes Corporation was that the CEO had decided to work from home and spend more time with his family following his wife’s passing. Kyle kept in contact with the executive team behind the scenes, often responding to e-mails or reviewing proposals and reports in the late evening while working out of one of the guest suites in his parents’ house. On several occasions, he attempted to broach the subject with his father, but got no further than he had on the day his dad told him to let the company rot.
When August rolled around—the month Kyle normally would’ve been returning to grad school—and still nothing had changed with his dad, he decided enough was enough. Neither rational arguments nor tough love could convince his father to get professional help, so that meant there was only one option left.
The guilt trip.
Kyle huddled with Jordan one night in the kitchen as they devised their plan. “It should be you,” he whispered, keeping one eye out in case his dad walked in. Since the man never left the house, he was always around somewhere. “And you need to lay it on thick, Jordo. Quivering lip, big crocodile tears, whatever it takes. Dad never could say no when you cry.”
Jordan looked indignant. “When have I ever tried to manipulate Dad with tears?”
“Oh, I distinctly remember a time when somebody cried for days after being told she couldn’t have a Barbie Dream House because it was too big for her bedroom.”
“We were seven at the time,” Jordan said. “The circumstances are a bit different now.”
“Did you get the Barbie Dream House?” Kyle asked pointedly.
With a mischievous smile, Jordan shrugged. “Santa came through for me.” She glanced in the direction of their father’s study, turning more serious. “Okay, I’ll do it. I just hate that it’s come to this.”
“He needs help, Jordo. You and I simply aren’t enough to fix this.” Perhaps that was one of the reasons he and Jordan had let things drag out this long—neither of them had wanted to admit that.
An hour later, Jordan emerged from their father’s study with a reddened nose and a relieved smile. She gave Kyle the thumbs-up sign.
Later that week, their father had his first appointment with a psychiatrist, who prescribed an antidepressant, set up weekly counseling sessions, and also referred him to a local grief support group. The changes didn’t happen overnight, but slowly Kyle began to see more and more glimpses of the old Grey Rhodes. First there was the quip about the number of lasagnas still stored in the freezer, then there was the day Kyle came back to the house after a meeting with Chuck and found his father on the phone with the director of a battered women’s shelter, making arrangements to donate their mother’s clothes.
One evening shortly thereafter, Kyle sat at the kitchen counter, eating Thai takeout and reviewing the August financials the CFO had sent over. Sales of the new endpoint and e-mail protection service had continued to climb steadily since its launch, and customer feedback had been overwhelmingly positive.
“Are those the most recent financials?”
Kyle turned around, so surprised by the voice he nearly choked on his shrimp pad thai. His father stood by the subzero refrigerator—how long he’d been there was anyone’s guess.
Kyle swallowed the pad thai. “Yes.” He took a sip of the evening cocktail he’d poured himself—vodka on the rocks—and tried to look nonchalant as his father took a seat on the bar stool next to him.
Grey turned to him with a keen gleam Kyle recognized well. He pointed to the financials. “Maybe you should show me what the hell you’ve been doing with my company all summer.”
Kyle grinned. Thank fucking God. Without further ado, he handed over the financials to his dad. “About time. Reading this stuff is as much fun as watching paint dry.”
Grey chuckled. Shaking his head, he looked at Kyle for a long moment…then reached out and pulled Kyle in for a hug so tight he nearly fell off his bar stool. “Thank you, son,” he said in a choked voice.
“You’re welcome.” And Kyle would have been lying if he didn’t admit that he was pretty damn misty-eyed, too.
Not surprisingly, the next thing Grey wanted to talk about was school. “I know your classes started a couple weeks ago. It’s probably time you thought about heading back to Champaign.”
“I already called Professor Sharma and told him that I won’t be returning this semester.”
“No way. You’ve put your life on hold for too long already.”
Kyle had known that this moment would eventually come—at least he’d always hoped it would—and he’d thought a lot about his options. He could return to Champaign and spend the next few years in a cornfield, getting his PhD. Or, if he didn’t want to be so far away from his family, he could transfer to the University of Chicago, albeit a school with a less prestigious computer sciences program, and continue his studies there.
And then there was option C.
“You’re right—I have been putting my life on hold for too long,” he said. “Maybe it’s time I put these mad skills of mine to work. Luckily, I happen to know a guy who owns a company that might have something right up my alley.”
Grey’s eyes lit up with unmistakable pride—and then he stifled it. “I appreciate the offer. But we both know that’s not what you really want.”
The truth of the matter was, Kyle’s views on what he wanted had changed a lot over the last three and a half months. He, Jordan, and his dad were a team now. He had no doubt there would be more rough times ahead—he was already dreading this upcoming holiday season—but whatever happened, they would stick together. Working at Rhodes Corporation would give him the peace of mind of knowing that he was by his dad’s side, every day, even if his father didn’t need him. Not to mention, he knew it would make his father happy—and the guy deserved a little happiness right then.
But his motives weren’t entirely altruistic. Shockingly, over the past couple months he’d realized that he actually enjoyed working for Rhodes Corporation. Admittedly, the power had been illusory while he’d temporarily assumed his father’s role, but he found the thrill that came with being at the top and leading others to be rather…appealing.
“It’s too late. Two days ago, I applied for the open network security manager position. Between you and me, I think I’m a shoo-in.” Kyle stretched out confidently in the bar stool. “Assuming you can meet my salary demands.”
Grey raised an eyebrow. “Salary demands?”
“Hey, these mad skills don’t come for free.”
Grey shook his head, although his lips curved up in a smile. “Why do I get the feeling that this is going to be the first of many demands from one frustratingly stubborn Kyle Rhodes of the Network Security Department?” He pointed, trying to look stern. “You earn your way up the ladder like everyone else.”
Kyle gripped his father’s shoulder. They would undoubtedly butt heads many times over the course of their careers at Rhodes Corporation, but on this point they were in total agreement. “I’d expect nothing less.”
RYLANN DIDN’T SAY a word as Kyle told his story; she simply sat there at the table and listened. She sensed that he kept some of the most personal details to himself—it was obvious that he was very protective of his father’s privacy—but he told her enough to give her a clear picture of the lengths he’d gone to for his family nine years ago.
And that picture completely blew her away.
Twitter Terrorist, billionaire heir, ex-con, computer geek, bad boy—none of those terms came close to describing Kyle Rhodes. He was, simply, a good person, and a confident, intelligent man to boot, and she found that combination absolutely irresistible.
She’d told him—and herself—from the beginning that she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Nevertheless, these past couple weeks they’d spent together had led her to one inescapable conclusion.
That Kyle deserved the best damn girlfriend out there.
He deserved a woman who wouldn’t try to hide the fact that they were together. A woman who wouldn’t hesitate to go to her boss and tell her that she was dating the Twitter Terrorist. A woman who would never have any regrets, even if that decision impacted the career she truly loved.
And the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question was whether she was that woman.
“You look so serious, counselor. Too heavy a story for a first date?”
Seeing the genuine look of concern in Kyle’s eyes despite the teasing tone, Rylann quickly shook away her thoughts. She reached across the table and slid her hand into his. “Only if you don’t want me to come away from this date thinking you’re a really incredible guy.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Nope. I’m okay with that.”
LATER THAT EVENING, Rylann nestled against Kyle in the back of the limo as they drove back to Chicago.
The driver had discreetly left the privacy partition up, and soft jazz music played through the speakers. When Norah Jones began singing “Come Away With Me” and Kyle slid his hand to her lower back, Rylann tilted her head and felt a sharp tug at her heart when his mouth met hers.
He kissed her softly, his lips brushing lightly over hers, and for once there were no words between them. After a long while, he pulled back and she opened her eyes, and the look they shared felt more intimate than any other moment in all the nights they’d spent together.
Later, when they entered Rylann’s apartment, she took his hand and led him to her bedroom. Slowly, he undid the tie of her dress at her waist, then pushed it off her shoulders and to the floor. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
His hands and mouth moved tenderly over her body until she ached for him. When he finally settled between her legs and entered her, filling her completely, he tangled his hands in her hair and whispered huskily in her ear.
“You’re mine, Rylann.”
Thirty-one
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Rylann dressed for work as Kyle fielded a steady stream of phone calls in her living room. He finally took a break and walked into the bathroom just as she finished straightening her hair.
“From the sound of things, I’d say there are lots of people eager to get in bed with the Twitter Terrorist,” she teased.
“It’s like an orgy at this point.” He slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck, the scruff along his jaw scraping gently against her skin. While he’d already commandeered an extra toothbrush he’d found in her bathroom, they hadn’t yet had The Talk about him keeping a razor or any of his other things at her apartment.
When he pulled back and met her gaze in the mirror, she knew from his mischievous expression that something was up. “What’s going on? I recognize that look.”
He grinned broadly. “I got the cover of Time.”
Rylann did a double take. “Wait—Time magazine? You. On the cover.”
“Yep. The reporter I’ve been talking to just called to say his editor signed off on it. They plan to run my picture with the caption ‘The New Face of Network Security.’ Let’s just hope they don’t use my mug shot,” he joked.
“The cover of Time,” Rylann repeated. Then she turned around and planted one right on his mouth. “That is awesome.”
“Perfect timing, too, with the launch of my company.” He shrugged. “I had to agree to talk about the Twitter thing—Tijuana, my conviction, prison life, the whole nine yards—but I figure it’s worth it.”
Instantly, Rylann got a sinking feeling in her stomach. She was beyond thrilled for Kyle and knew what a great opportunity this was for him. But the interview would thrust the details of his arrest and conviction once again into the spotlight, and she’d been hoping, perhaps naively, that everyone could just…move on from that.
Kyle had been very blunt about his feelings over the way his case had been handled by her office, including the fact that they’d called him a “terrorist” and sought the maximum prison sentence. It was inevitable that the reporter would inquire about those subjects. And if Kyle answered the questions candidly, she feared the U.S. Attorney’s Office would not be cast in the most positive light.
She could already picture the scene a week from now. Her, walking into work the morning the Time story hit the newsstands, the other AUSAs gossiping about it in the hallways. Cade dropping by to talk, annoyed about being cast as the villain, and Cameron very possibly frustrated that the integrity of the office she’d been working hard to rebuild since her predecessor’s departure was once again called into question.
And behind the scenes, Rylann would be in the middle of it all.
Yes, she could always ask Kyle to not cast any aspersions on her office during the interview. But doing that felt wrong. Whether she agreed with him or not, he should have the right to express his opinions on the subject—especially since she knew that Cade had, in fact, been told to go after him particularly hard because of his last name and financial status.
And so the situation between her and Kyle grew that much more complicated.
“Are you okay?” Kyle touched her chin. “You’re making the serious face again.”
Rylann forced herself to plaster on what she hoped looked like a genuine smile and went for a joke. This was Kyle’s moment, and she wouldn’t ruin it for him. “Sorry. I just got a little starstruck there. It’s not every day I get to rub elbows with someone whose face is on the cover of a magazine.”
He held her gaze. “It could be an everyday thing, you know.”
Rylann’s heart began to race. Suddenly, it seemed they were about to have The Talk after all. And judging from her body’s reaction, she was either excited to take their relationship to the next level…or about to have a panic attack.
Then Kyle’s cell phone rang again, interrupting the moment.
He swore under his breath. “I should take that. Sorry things are so crazy right now.”
“It’s okay. You do your work thing.” She exhaled unsteadily when he left.
She finished getting ready for work and was in her kitchen, pouring cereal into a bowl, when Kyle hung up the phone and walked over from the living room.
“I should get going,” he said. “I need to run home, take a quick shower, and head into the office. According to Sean, we’ve already received thirty calls on the business line this morning.” He pulled her closer. “I’m going to dinner tonight with my family. It’s a tradition Jordan and I started eight years ago, as a way of making sure my dad wasn’t alone on the anniversary of my mother’s car accident. Can I call you afterward?”
Rylann nodded, thinking that it probably wasn’t such a bad idea for them to spend the evening apart. Clearly, she had a lot of thinking to do. “Sure.” She touched his face. “Is it hard, today being the nine-year anniversary of the accident?”
“It’s gotten easier over the years.” He kissed her good-bye, long and deep, then groaned and pulled back. “I’ll never get out of here if I keep that up.”
“I was just about to kick you out, anyway. I’m in front of the grand jury later this morning.”
“Ooh, sexy. Now I get to picture you doing your lawyer thing all afternoon. What kind of case?”
“A secret one.”
“Right. What happens in the grand jury room stays in the grand jury room. I remember the speech well.” With a wink, he turned and left her apartment.
Rylann stood there for a moment after he left, her smile slowly fading as the weight of her dilemma sank in. Forcing herself to push the issue temporarily aside, she grabbed her spoon and cereal bowl. She took a seat at the counter and had just fired up her iPad to catch up on the morning’s headlines when there was a knock at her door.
Perhaps Kyle had forgotten something, she mused. With that in mind, she slid off the bar stool and left the kitchen. She cut through her living room and opened the door, expecting to see a pair of piercing blue eyes and dimples.
Instead, she froze.
Standing there on her doorstep, inexplicably, was Jon.
He held out his arms. “Surprise.”
