Play to Win Page 27

  “Grab the checkbook, Sage. Let’s go make a withdrawal. I’ve decided on an early retirement.”

  I opened my desk drawer—

  “Easy now,” Charlie said. “I’m old and I’m afraid my hands aren’t as steady as they used to be.”

  I let not an ounce of reaction appear on my face, though on the inside, I was freaking out. I was enraged, terrified, and on the verge of panic. Somehow, I had to pull myself together. Charlie had tried to have me killed. That wasn’t quite the same as pulling the trigger himself, but desperate men do desperate things.

  The company ledger was inside my drawer and I removed a check. Picking up my purse, I slid it inside and stood. “Let’s go.”

  “Ladies first.” Charlie put his hand holding the gun inside his jacket pocket, then motioned for me to go ahead of him. “Act natural,” he said as I opened my door.

  “Of course,” I said bitterly.

  We passed by Carrie’s empty desk. The line at Starbucks must have been really long. I was both disappointed and glad she wasn’t there. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, but I also didn’t want to be shot again.

  “And how much are you expecting me to withdraw?” I asked in an undertone as we approached the elevator.

  “I think two million should be sufficient,” he said. “Besides, I couldn’t carry any more than that.”

  Always so practical, that was Charlie.

  We stood in front of the elevator and when the door slid open, I sucked in a breath.

  Parker stood inside, holding a bouquet of flowers.

  He saw me and a smile broke across his face as he stepped out. “Hey, babe. You read my mind. Was just coming to see you, wish you a good first day back.”

  I forced myself to smile. “That’s so sweet. And thoughtful.” I wracked my brain for any kind of code word or phrase I could use to tell him what was going on…and came up empty. I couldn’t risk Charlie suspecting something. Employees were around, as well as Parker.

  Parker glanced to my right. “Charlie,” he said. “Good to see you, too.”

  “Good morn—”

  Parker moved so fast, he was a blur. One second Charlie was standing there beside me, the next he was flat on his back on the floor. I’d seen his head snap back when Parker’s fist shot out.

  Openmouthed, I stared at Charlie. His eyes had rolled back in his head, his mouth slack.

  “Is he dead?” I asked.

  “No, unfortunately,” Parker replied grimly.

  I looked at him in astonishment. “How did you know?”

  “I was talking to your dad this morning,” he said, “finishing up the final touches on the paperwork for the Sikes merger. He mentioned how he was glad he’d gotten to see Natalie again. How she’d really helped ten years ago when they—your dad and Sikes—blackmailed Leo Shea.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “They blackmailed him,” Parker repeated. “Natalie found out that Steven had killed a guy. Beat him to death. Leo was covering it up and Steven went to jail for a couple of years on a misdemeanor charge. Natalie told your dad about the murder and he was able to dig up enough circumstantial evidence to blackmail Leo. That’s what made Leo back down. Not collusion.”

  “But Charlie said—”

  “Charlie didn’t know,” Parker interrupted. “He manufactured evidence on collusion and planted it, figuring he could get away with it since your dad was in a coma and was the only one who knew the truth, that it was blackmail.”

  “So when Dad told you that…”

  “I put the pieces together and came straight here.”

  I held up the flowers he’d given me, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, those came out of the vase on the pedestal in the foyer downstairs.”

  “I thought they looked familiar.”

  The elevator dinged again and this time, Ryker stepped out along with two uniformed policemen.

  “I got your message,” he said to Parker. He glanced at Charlie, still out cold. “Must’ve been your right hook. It’s a real bitch.”

  Charlie would probably agree…when he came to.

  They searched and disarmed him, splashing some cold water on his face to wake him up before promptly cuffing him and leading him away. I watched the elevator door close on my dad’s oldest employee, my stomach bottoming out.

  “You okay?” Parker asked, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “It just sucks. I can’t imagine what Dad’s going to say. He and Charlie were close, friends as well as boss and employee.”

  “Your dad’s been around a while,” he said. “I doubt anything surprises him anymore.”

  We had just turned to head back to my office when the elevator opened and Carrie popped out, breathless and holding two large Starbucks cups.

  “You will not believe the line today!” she said, handing me one. “I think it was the barista’s first day because she took absolutely forever. But I did get you a free scone.” She proudly brandished a little paper bag.

  A free scone and a grande pumpkin spice latte, with extra whip. The day was looking up.

  Epilogue

  Have a glass of champagne,” Mom said, handing me a flute of bubbly golden liquid.

  “I don’t want to get married drunk, Mom!”

  “Please,” she said with a wave of her hand. “If one glass of champagne gets you drunk, then you’re not your father’s daughter.”

  Okay, she had a point. I took a long swallow.

  “Sip it, don’t gulp it,” she chastised me. “Now hold still and let Jeffrey finish your hair.”

  Jeffrey was cursing under his breath at my thick mass of hair, which he’d spent the past two hours painstakingly curling and arranging into an artful up-do with a mountain of bobby pins. Ten minutes later and he was finally through.

  “Voilà!” he pronounced with a flourish. “You look amazing!”

  I surveyed the stranger in the mirror, a way better-looking version of the usual me, in an Oscar de la Renta wedding gown. My eyes caught on the diamond necklace at my throat.

  “They were your grandmother’s,” Mom had said when she’d put them on me. She and Parker had colluded ahead of time and he’d had matching earrings made. Something old and something new. He’d given them to me last night after the rehearsal dinner, before he’d gone back to his apartment (alone—Mom had been quite adamant about our being apart from then until the ceremony).

  “Oh, Sage,” Megan breathed, clasping her hands in delight. “You look like a princess!”

  She was my Maid of Honor. I had six other attendants who were all various cousins and second cousins on my dad’s side, but they were all getting ready in another room. Only Megan, Jeffrey, and my mom were in here. Thank goodness Catholic churches like this one were huge.

  I hadn’t wanted a big wedding, but Dad had cajoled and begged and even at one point broke down and cried (which I’d been sure were crocodile tears since once I’d caved they’d magically disappeared). So now Parker and I had fourteen attendants, a flower girl and ring bearer, plus a miniature bride and groom.

  Okay, the miniature bride and groom were super cute.

  “You’re going to be just as beautiful on your wedding day,” I said. Brian had proposed at Christmas.

  She grinned. “Maybe. But my wedding won’t include half of Chicago.”

  She was referring to the over five hundred guests currently waiting in the nave. I started to sweat.

  “No no no!” Jeffrey cried, grabbing a tissue and carefully blotting my forehead. “The makeup is perfect!” He gestured to my mother and Megan. “Quick, fan her.”

  “Shit! I’m sorry, Sage!” Megan said, hurrying to obey him.

  The sight of three people grabbing the nearest hymnal or Bible and using it to fan a nervous bride-to-be had me bursting out laughing.

  “Well, laughing is better than sweating,” Mom said, setting aside her hymnal and tossing back the rest of her champagne.

>   “I thought you said to sip it!” I said.

  She covered a delicate burp. “The bride should sip it. The mother of the bride should drink a gallon before seeing her only daughter walk down the aisle.” Her eyes shone with tears as she looked at me, but Jeffrey began tut-tutting and muttering things about mascara, so she blinked them back with a smile. Which was a good thing because I was pretty sure if my mom started crying, I would, too.

  There was a knock on the door. “Ten minutes!” Ah. The wedding planner.

  “We’d better go,” Mom said. “I’ll send your dad in.” I nodded and she left along with Megan and Jeffrey.

  I took deep breaths. I wasn’t nervous about marrying Parker. I was nervous about getting married. All those people out there watching me walk down the aisle…I could feel the sweat coming on again.

  “Dammit,” I muttered, grabbing for more tissues as the door opened. I turned around, expecting my father, but it was Ryker.

  I smiled. “Hey! You know you’re not supposed to be in here.” He looked great in the tuxedos I’d picked out.

  “Shh. Don’t tell the dragon lady,” he said.

  “The wedding planner is the best in the city,” I said. “I can’t help it if you don’t take orders well.”

  He shrugged, not looking a bit repentant at the teasing he’d given our planner last night. It was lucky for him he was good-looking and a cop, otherwise I think she would’ve boxed his ears.

  “I just wanted to say how happy I am for you and Parker,” he said. “He’s like a brother to me and now, well, now I get a new sister.” He smiled.

  It was sweet of him and felt genuine. It had been almost nine months since we’d been together, but it felt like a lifetime ago. His heart and mine had moved on, but there would always be a special tenderness between us.

  “Thanks, Ryker.” I reached to give him a hug, but he jumped back, evading my arms.

  “No way am I messing up the bride,” he said. Leaning forward, he gave me the merest brush of his lips on my cheek. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

  He turned back at the door. “Wait. Do you have all your ‘something old, something new’ stuff?”

  “Megan let me borrow her Jimmy Choos,” I said. “But I didn’t find anything blue.”

  Ryker stepped back toward me. “Please, allow me.” Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a tiny bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin.

  I laughed in surprise and delight. “Where the heck am I supposed to put that?” I asked. “Down my cleavage?”

  Ryker glanced around and spied my bouquet, still in the florist box and waiting for me. He picked it up, nestled the gin deep among the peach roses, eucalyptus, and greenery, so only a bit of it peeked out. He handed it to me.

  “It’s perfect,” I said with a smile. “Thank you.”

  He smiled, then went out the door.

  My dad was a blubbering mess when he saw me, his eyes red as he manfully tried to hold back the tears. I hugged him and patted him on the back, so glad I had parents who loved me so much.

  Butterflies filled my stomach as we headed for the nave, with me on my dad’s arm. The music was beckoning—my dad had somehow gotten ten members of the Chicago Symphony to play for our wedding—which made my stomach turn somersaults. Then we turned the corner and I looked down the aisle…and saw Parker. Ryker stood at his side.

  Our eyes met and I smiled. The butterflies settled down as I walked down the aisle to my groom.

  * * *

  “You are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” Parker said, slowly turning me around the dance floor.

  “And how many brides have you come across?” I teased.

  He laughed, his eyes shining as he looked at me, the look on his face one I wanted to memorize. As though I indeed was the most beautiful, perfect thing he’d ever seen.

  The wedding had been perfect. The dinner and reception had gone off without a hitch. Now we were dancing and enjoying the celebration.

  “What a lovely wedding!”

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Natalie in Ryker’s arms as they danced next to us. I smiled.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad you came.”

  Natalie and I had buried the hatchet. I’d saved her life. She’d saved mine. She and Ryker had been dating steadily ever since Thanksgiving. They both looked happy and I hoped things worked out for them. I had a feeling it would.

  Ryker had held a torch for Natalie for a decade. He wouldn’t let her go now. And she’d been amazed that he still loved her, crying to me one night over too many bottles of wine that she didn’t deserve him. I’d told her not to be stupid, of course she deserved him, and to have another piece of chocolate cake. Then I’d eaten half her piece of cake.

  “So where’s the honeymoon?” I asked Parker as Natalie and Ryker spun away. He’d refused to tell me, saying it was a surprise. He’d even had Megan do the packing for me so I didn’t know if it was somewhere warm or cold.

  “You’ll see,” he said. “You don’t want to ruin my surprise now, do you?”

  “Well, when do we get to leave?”

  “As soon as you want.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Are we driving?” Hmm…what was within driving distance…

  “Nope.”

  “So we’re flying.”

  “Yep.”

  “But we can leave anytime?”

  His eyes twinkled at me. “Yep.”

  That could only mean…“Someone loaned you their private plane,” I guessed.

  He winked at me.

  I squealed. That was so cool. “Let’s go now,” I said. “Is that okay?”

  “Now would be perfect,” he said. “Because I really don’t want to wait any longer to start the rest of my life…with you.” And he kissed me.

  THE END

  Sage Reese lives for her debonair boss, Parker Anderson. But when she runs into tough Detective Dean Ryker, Sage becomes caught between the man she’s always wanted—and the one who makes her feel wanted like never before…

  Please see the next page

  for an excerpt from

  Power Play

  Book 1 of the Risky Business series

  Chapter One

  You’re dumping me?”

  I couldn’t believe it—not that it was completely out of the blue—but I hadn’t even had a chance to order dessert.

  “Listen, Sage, I just don’t think it’s working out,” Brandon said. “I mean I like you, I really do, but it just doesn’t seem as though you have time for a relationship—”

  The buzzing of my cell phone cut him off. I didn’t have to look to know who it was. Fighting my instinct to pick it up, I said, “I have plenty of time for a relationship!”

  “Sage, we’ve been dating for three months and we’ve yet to have a dinner that wasn’t interrupted by your cell.”

  “That is not true,” I protested, frantically trying to remember a time when I’d had any meal without my phone ringing. My phone buzzed again, and I swear my eye twitched with the need to answer it.

  But Brandon was shaking his head, a resigned look on his face. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He took some money out of his wallet and placed it on the table.

  More insistent buzzing, as if the person on the other end knew I was there and not picking up. I clenched my hands into fists in my lap.

  “Brandon,” I tried again as he stood. He nodded toward my phone.

  “Sage, you may not want to admit it, but you’re already in a committed relationship. And he doesn’t share.”

  I stared in dismay at Brandon’s retreating back as he left the restaurant. The phone buzzed. Glaring at it, I reached out and snatched it up, knowing it could only be one person.

  “What?” I snapped, allowing the hovering waiter to remove my plate. I grabbed the wine bottle and emptied the rest into my glass.

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Excuse me?”

  I held in a sigh and rubbed my forehead. I fel
t a headache coming on. “I’m sorry, I thought it was someone else,” I lied, modulating my voice into the usual pleasant tone I used for work. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  Sir was Parker Anderson, and Parker Anderson was my boss.

  “I need the margin projections on the Layne acquisition. Where are they?”

  “Lyle brought them by this afternoon,” I said. “I put them on your desk.”

  “I’m looking and I don’t see them.”

  “They’re underneath the stack of quarterlies that I printed off this morning,” I guessed.

  There was a shuffling of paper. “Okay. Found it. Thanks.” He ended the call.

  “You’re welcome,” I muttered, tossing down my phone. Parker never apologized for calling me after official work hours. I thought it was because he worked so much. He never considered any hour as being free from work, for either himself or those who worked for him. Usually, I didn’t mind because…well, it was complicated.

  The wind had picked up and I pulled my wrap tighter around my bare arms as I gazed out at Lake Michigan. Brandon had picked one of the nicest restaurants in Chicago to break up with me, a place with outdoor seating and a great view. I guessed that was something.

  I watched as the last bit of twilight faded into evening and sipped my wine. Brandon had already paid for it so no sense letting it go to waste. We’d met on Valentine’s Day of all things and over the next three months I’d become more and more convinced that maybe he could be Mr. Right.

  Apparently, I was Ms. Wrong.

  On that depressing thought, I got drunk. Well at least I think I got drunk. I was vaguely aware of the valet calling me a cab and me stumbling into my apartment. I may or may not have taken a bubble bath—a weird predilection that came out when I was very drunk, no matter the time of night—since I had little memory of anything up to my head hitting the pillow. Some might say I passed out, but I’m a lady and ladies don’t pass out. I just…slept very deeply.