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“I am.” The tip of my middle finger slides under the lace.
“To what’s happening in your office, not my ass.”
She’s so cute when she pretends to be annoyed.
“But it’s such a fine ass,” I murmur against the column of her neck.
The sound of a door opening quiets us both.
“This way.” Thomas’s deep, steady voice sounds through the small opening of the closet door that Bell and I are hiding behind.
“Everything is in order?” Stan’s voice booms.
“Yes.” Denise’s shrill voice sends chills down my spine. “I was hoping to have this over with so your father and I could celebrate at Jean-Georges.”
They make their way to the desk, where Bell and I can see them from our hiding spot.
“I can’t believe that boy would give up his shares. He never could hack being a real Moore. Doesn’t have the stones.”
Thomas makes a noncommittal sound while rifling through the papers on the desk.
“And Denise is working out great, isn’t she? The new campaign she’s rolled out has really set Moore’s up for a great year.”
Denise coos and smooths down Stan’s lapels with her talons.
Bell stiffens. I move my hand from under her skirt and wrap both arms around her, drawing her back up against my front for a hug. I know she says it doesn’t matter that she ‘left’ her work behind when she went to Texas, knowing Denise would take it. That it was her choice, and she’d do it again. But it still hurt, and I’m planning on making it up to her.
“I’m going to junk-punch your father and then stab Denise with my new Jimmy Choos,” Bell mutters softly.
I shh her, but honestly, I’d pay money to see that.
Thomas ignores the question and lifts a stack of papers from the desk. “This is the paperwork from Chase turning in his shares. It’s already signed. But its legality is contingent on you signing away daily control of Moore’s.” Thomas places that paperwork aside and presses the intercom. “George, could you come in here?”
A second later, as if waiting for the invitation (because he was), George steps into the office.
“Why the devil haven’t you fired this—”
“George is a notary, Father. And very good at his job.” Thomas picks up the other stack of papers, turning it toward Stan. “I’ve marked the places where you need to sign and initial. Starting here.” He points to a spot on the page.
Stan glares at George for a moment more. George remains impassive as ever.
“Hmph.” Stan pulls a gold pen from his suit pocket before ignoring George and focusing on Thomas. “Great work, Thomas. I knew you would do amazing things for the company, but I didn’t know you could get your wayward brother out of the picture so efficiently.” He pats Thomas on the back. “I should’ve though. You’re just like me.”
Too busy leaning over the contract, Stan doesn’t see Thomas’s face. And as Stan’s words don’t have their usual effect on me, I’m not too busy licking my wounds not to see the sick expression Thomas has trouble suppressing. Being compared to Stanley Moore would do that to anyone.
Hopefully, what I have planned for after we finally oust Stan will make up for all the shit-eating he’s had to do this past month.
With a final flourish of his gaudy pen, Stan straightens from the desk. “There. Now we can take care of Chase’s shares.”
Thomas holds up a hand. “One moment.”
George steps forward and notarizes the paperwork. “I’ll just go file these, sir,” he says to Thomas before walking out.
Once the door closes behind George, Stan reaches for the second contract. My father, the man whose blood runs through my veins, eagerly leans down to sign away my birthright from me with a large smile on his face.
This is going to be so satisfying.
He turns the first page, only to still. “It’s blank.” He rifles through the rest of the pages. “They’re all blank.”
