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“Rewards aren’t only monetary,” I answer.
“Stop saying these cryptic, meaningless phrases,” Mick snaps. He pinches the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to take a deep breath. I can almost see him counting to ten in his head.
I lean forward, pointing to the stack of papers. “Review the deal with a fine-toothed comb, and you’ll see I’m not trying to screw you over. It’s…a gift.”
“People in our business don’t make gifts.”
“Maybe I’m trying to get out of this business.”
He frowns, but doesn’t answer.
I push myself to my feet, nodding to the people across the table. “I’ll be in Roston until you make a decision.”
As I walk out of the room, a weight starts to lift off my shoulders. It’s not completely gone, but I know I’m heading in the right direction. I’m making things right—or at least trying.
27
Penelope
For once, I don’t learn about the biggest development in Nordish business from the news. Mick Burgundy is admitted to my office with a yellow folder in his hand, head bowed, looking almost afraid to speak to me.
I try not to recoil, even though the sight of him reminds me of the biggest mistake of the last ten years of my life. I handed Asher a deal with Mick on a silver platter—handed him exactly what he wanted from me.
But Mick hands me the file and tells me a crazy story about Asher proposing a deal. A deal Asher must be out of his mind to make. A deal that will lose his company millions, if not tens or hundreds of millions. Mick wrings his hands, shrugging. “Our lawyers saw nothing wrong with the contract, Your Majesty. Gerhard really wants to sell us his half of the venture for one dollar.”
I blink, then slowly lift my eyes to meet his. Clearing my throat, it takes all my self-control to keep my mask in place. To show no cracks, and to hide the hurricane raging inside me. When I speak, my voice is steady. “When did he approach you with this?”
“Three days ago, ma’am.”
“And he’s still in Roston?”
“He said he’d stay until we signed the paperwork. I just…I know you were involved in the inception of this joint venture. I thought it was best to bring it to you personally.”
“Thank you for that, Mr. Burgundy. Frederick will show you out.”
My secretary appears behind the tall CEO, touching his elbow to lead him out. Before they get to the door, though, Mick pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “He said it was a gift,” he blurts out.
I frown, cracks appearing in my unbreakable mask. “A gift?”
“That’s what he said. I don’t know…It makes no sense.”
I stand, inclining my head as regally as I can while my heart does its best to burst through my chest. “Thank you, Mr. Burgundy.”
As soon as the two men are out of my office, I double over, sucking in a deep breath. Panic squeezes at my chest as confusion rings in my ears.
And, something else…
Bright, silver hope. A thin thread of life that lay buried beneath the ice in my heart, one I was afraid to acknowledge even as it lived on inside me.
A gift…for me.
Time is a funny thing. The hours I spend getting to the royal jet and flying to Roston pass in a daze. The blink of an eye. When the plane lands, I hardly even remember who I spoke to or how I got here.
But the seconds that tick by, heartbeat by heartbeat, after I knock on Asher Gerhard’s door—those are excruciating. I feel those moments in every nerve ending, every bone, every muscle. I feel them in the warm breeze that ruffles my hair and the sound of leaves rustling in the trees. An eternity passes me by, and still I stand there on Asher’s front stoop, waiting for the door to open.
Heartbeat by heartbeat. Thump by thump. Second by never-ending second.
Then, footsteps. The peephole goes dark, and I suffer through another pause that lasts an age. Slowly, as if it’s scraping along my very soul, the lock slides open and the door swings inward.
