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“It’s called a hostile takeover,” he answers grimly. “He’s going over my head.”
“Going over your head how?” I shake my head, not understanding. “You’re the CEO. How is he—”
“He went to my shareholders,” Declan growls. “Stupid bastards. He’s probably trying to convince them that I’m taking the company in the wrong direction. That I’m going to lose them money, and if they want to profit, they need to oust me and let him run the show.”
I’m speechless. At first, I can’t believe that Johnathan could do something like this. But then I remember the way he acted at Nora’s party, and, well… yeah, I totally can believe it. It’s definitely a stunt he would pull.
“After everything he’s tried to do to worm his way back into my life, I guess he’s finally decided to play dirty. Go below the belt.” Declan’s grip on his phone is so tight that I’m worried he’s going to shatter the screen. “He wants to take over everything I’ve built.”
He takes a deep, somewhat shaky breath, running his hands through his dark hair. He looks at me, and his gaze is fractured, rage boiling in his eyes.
“We have to go,” he says. “I have to go back.”
I nod silently, all of the euphoria flooding out of me.
He seems to notice and grimaces. “I’m sorry. Fuck, Spitfire, I hate that this happened on your birthday.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “It sucks that our trip got cut short, but I know what a huge deal this is. You need to be there.”
He nods at me gratefully, then steps back through the curtain to find our waiter.
We go straight to the airport, not stopping back at the hotel. A man in a suit meets us on the tarmac with our packed bags. Everything I’ve purchased has been packed up for me, loaded on the plane. It’s all taken care of.
Despite the gravity of the situation, I can’t help but marvel at how quickly everything comes together. If Declan needs to be in the air as soon as possible, the cards fall into place, and whatever needs to get done gets done. He waits for no one.
We board the plane, and it taxis across the runway. Our takeoff is nothing like the last one.
I sip a glass of whiskey, watching as Declan paces back and forth, sitting down only at the captain’s insistence as the plane reaches the top of the runway. He’s on the phone the entire time with people from Dynasty. Financial, most likely.
Trying to figure out what the hell happened. What stage the takeover is in, and the best way to fend it off. What options he has.
He’s stressed, veins visible in his temples, the tendons tight in his throat. When the plane is fully airborne, he rises from his seat to pace again.
I wish that I could help him, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I’d even have a chance to say it. Declan is in full work mode; he doesn’t so much as glance at me.
After he gets off the phone with one of his shareholders, his expression weary, he sits down for a moment, his head in his hands. He looks up at me grimly.
“Are you okay?” I try to beckon him over to me, but he shakes his head.
“I need to call my father,” he says.
I nod. “Good luck.”
He dials the number, leaning back in his seat. The first thing out of his mouth is, “What the fuck?”
I can’t hear Johnathan’s response, but whatever he says causes the storm to finally break.
“You can’t do this to me!” Declan’s anger carries him to his feet. “I built a life for myself—I built everything—and you just can’t fucking stand it, can you?”
He’s raging, his professionalism falling away. And why shouldn’t it? This isn’t a professional matter, not really. This is personal.
It’s not about Dynasty. It’s about family.
“No, you asshole!” Declan roars into the phone. “Spare me the bullshit! I don’t want to hear it!”
There’s sheer hatred in his eyes, a burning rage in his voice.
“You’re a coward. You’re a miserable coward. And you can’t figure out how to stay out of places you’re not wanted!”
