find a high cliff and fall off it. This was war between them.
Cheyanne had walked away from him
one day without answering him. He had, in turn, slammed the door in her face,
just to acknowledge his anger. If you were made of money…you easily burned. It
was that simple.
She could not help the frown on
her face now, thinking about what changed. Angel had praised her brains,
perhaps out of fear of showing more of himself than allowed. Dorn, Lemane,
Geovanni—they’d all treated her as a kid sister, one they could fun with, and
get away with pranking. Men weren’t exactly beating down her doors, likely
because they had a great fear of an association to her.
She had to forgive Jessup for
putting her in this mess. More importantly, she had to forgive herself for
allowing it to happen. She could easily hate her father and Mitch, but Jessup
had been her favorite—until now. She should say something to him about the
woman he’s intent on marrying, but why bother? Jessup wasn’t in a listening
mood any more than Mitch was.
****
Mitch completed everything he
could by Friday morning. What little there was to achieve could wait another
day. He hadn’t trusted Joe’s accountants, and he sure as hell did not trust his
own when involving an underhanded takeover of a huge company.
He wanted nothing to go wrong. Too
much was at stake. His personal investment, and a few years of his life, he’d
been calculating the perfect time to acquire Ribbons Corporation. That time was
now.
Monday would be the full
announcement Ribbons was his, assuming all went well on a few legal issues.
They already spent months harping out the legalities with the Federal
government.
His plan was to wed two days
later, take them all by surprise.
The idea of sitting through Jessup’s
engagement party tonight made him sick. The money the family was wasting for a
waste of a man was ridiculous. He had to go to the party, of course, endure the
proceedings long enough to announce his surprise. It had to look and feel
legitimate.
Joe had a lot of friends and
associates. Mitch could work them into his plan, while giving Cheyanne a final
understanding on who would be in control of her life for the next four months.
He would be her husband, she would be his wife, and she would not be able to do
a damn thing about it.
He quickly imagined those hazel
eyes flaring at him, as he had seen them do more than he cared to admit. He
stood from the desk, agitated, and then went to the door. He wanted a hot
shower, tons of sleep, and perhaps finding the energy to come back here in
relative peace.
Damnit, kissing her was all he
could think about. He ran two red lights before realizing what the pull she had
over him was. He could live with boredom for a few months—been there, done
that. The wealthy wife of a wealthy man, she should have no complaints. The
problem was, unless careful he might find himself caught in her trap.
Power should be controlled by
only a select few. Fate would not have it any other way. He had to make certain
she never gained the control.
****
Cheyanne, having risen earlier
than usual went for a jog around the streets of New York to clear her thoughts.
Her pace quickened by agitation. In twenty-four years, she never felt a lack of
freedom as she had over the past week. She had scratched and clawed her way to
the top of her field, but the freedom was always there.
Archeology was the blood in her
veins. Without it, she would be bored to tears. Her parents too busy to care
about her life, they’d built an empire—that empire now being used against her.
She was their pawn, one they could move at any time.
She rounded the corner, ran up
the marble steps and headed straight to her room. Her life was so screwed up.
All of it stemmed from knowing one man—Mitch Lavede.
Two hours later, the confining
walls of the mansion turned claustrophobic, smothering her. She was used to
fresh air and sunshine twenty-four hours a day. Since her time
Cheyanne had walked away from him
one day without answering him. He had, in turn, slammed the door in her face,
just to acknowledge his anger. If you were made of money…you easily burned. It
was that simple.
She could not help the frown on
her face now, thinking about what changed. Angel had praised her brains,
perhaps out of fear of showing more of himself than allowed. Dorn, Lemane,
Geovanni—they’d all treated her as a kid sister, one they could fun with, and
get away with pranking. Men weren’t exactly beating down her doors, likely
because they had a great fear of an association to her.
She had to forgive Jessup for
putting her in this mess. More importantly, she had to forgive herself for
allowing it to happen. She could easily hate her father and Mitch, but Jessup
had been her favorite—until now. She should say something to him about the
woman he’s intent on marrying, but why bother? Jessup wasn’t in a listening
mood any more than Mitch was.
****
Mitch completed everything he
could by Friday morning. What little there was to achieve could wait another
day. He hadn’t trusted Joe’s accountants, and he sure as hell did not trust his
own when involving an underhanded takeover of a huge company.
He wanted nothing to go wrong. Too
much was at stake. His personal investment, and a few years of his life, he’d
been calculating the perfect time to acquire Ribbons Corporation. That time was
now.
Monday would be the full
announcement Ribbons was his, assuming all went well on a few legal issues.
They already spent months harping out the legalities with the Federal
government.
His plan was to wed two days
later, take them all by surprise.
The idea of sitting through Jessup’s
engagement party tonight made him sick. The money the family was wasting for a
waste of a man was ridiculous. He had to go to the party, of course, endure the
proceedings long enough to announce his surprise. It had to look and feel
legitimate.
Joe had a lot of friends and
associates. Mitch could work them into his plan, while giving Cheyanne a final
understanding on who would be in control of her life for the next four months.
He would be her husband, she would be his wife, and she would not be able to do
a damn thing about it.
He quickly imagined those hazel
eyes flaring at him, as he had seen them do more than he cared to admit. He
stood from the desk, agitated, and then went to the door. He wanted a hot
shower, tons of sleep, and perhaps finding the energy to come back here in
relative peace.
Damnit, kissing her was all he
could think about. He ran two red lights before realizing what the pull she had
over him was. He could live with boredom for a few months—been there, done
that. The wealthy wife of a wealthy man, she should have no complaints. The
problem was, unless careful he might find himself caught in her trap.
Power should be controlled by
only a select few. Fate would not have it any other way. He had to make certain
she never gained the control.
****
Cheyanne, having risen earlier
than usual went for a jog around the streets of New York to clear her thoughts.
Her pace quickened by agitation. In twenty-four years, she never felt a lack of
freedom as she had over the past week. She had scratched and clawed her way to
the top of her field, but the freedom was always there.
Archeology was the blood in her
veins. Without it, she would be bored to tears. Her parents too busy to care
about her life, they’d built an empire—that empire now being used against her.
She was their pawn, one they could move at any time.
She rounded the corner, ran up
the marble steps and headed straight to her room. Her life was so screwed up.
All of it stemmed from knowing one man—Mitch Lavede.
Two hours later, the confining
walls of the mansion turned claustrophobic, smothering her. She was used to
fresh air and sunshine twenty-four hours a day. Since her time
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