Dread crept through Alex’s system. “For what?”
“He’s putting together a bid for McKinley.”
“Son of a bitch.” Alex rocked to his feet, the possibilities winging through his mind. “The whole chain?”
Ryan stood with him. “Just the Kayven property.”
Alex closed his eyes for a split second, wrapping his hand around the back of his neck and squeezing hard. “And the women would keep the rest?” It was a dream come true for Emma.
“Yeah,” said Ryan.
“How long’ve we got?”
“He’s presenting the offer start of business Monday.”
“Who’s your source?”
“Adam down in accounting mentioned that his brother-in-law over at Williamson Smythe was looking at the same geologicals as we were.”
“He put it together from that?”
Ryan shook his head. “Adam doesn’t know a thing. I pieced it together myself from six different sources. We’re still the only player with the big picture.”
Alex’s mind clicked through potential scenarios. All of them ended with a DreamLodge win and a Garrison loss. “I can’t let him make that offer.”
Ryan nodded.
Alex had to shut Murdoch down. So how did he shut Murdoch down before Monday morning? Marry Emma was the obvious answer. “I wonder how she feels about Vegas…”
“You can’t marry Emma in the next forty-eight hours.”
Alex snorted. “The jet’s at JFK-I could marry her in less than five.”
“You don’t think a quickie Vegas wedding would look slightly opportunistic?”
Alex’s voice rose. “I’d rather look opportunistic than screw the whole deal.”
“And what happens when Murdoch talks to her?”
“By the time Murdoch talks to her, she’ll be Mrs. Alex Garrison.”
Ryan shook his head. “Not good enough. We don’t want Murdoch talking to her at all.”
“We can’t stop him from talking to her.” It was a free country, and DreamLodge owned as many communication devices as anybody else.
Ryan eased back down in his chair, resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “We can if he thinks there’s no point in talking to her.”
“There are hundreds of millions at stake.”
“Yeah,” Ryan agreed quietly. “And we’re going to make him think it’s all ours.”
Alex recognized the cunning gleam in Ryan’s eyes. A renewed calm came over him, and he took his seat behind the desk, picking up a gold pen to twirl between his fingertips. “How?”
“We need four things,” said Ryan.
Alex was all ears. There was a reason he’d taken Ryan on as a partner. The man was a strategic genius.
“McKinley’s financial statements,” said Ryan. “Some serious intel on DreamLodge, a quick and dirty marketing mock-up, and a diamond ring on Emma McKinley’s finger.”
Alex could take care of the ring and the marketing plan. He supposed he could come up with some kind of rational explanation for wanting Emma’s financial statements over the weekend. But he didn’t have a single contact at DreamLodge. “What kind of intel?”
Ryan hesitated for a single beat. “Can you call Nathaniel?”
Alex blinked at the sound of his cousin’s name. “That’s a pretty big gun.”
“There are hundreds of millions at stake.”
Right. Nathaniel it was.
Three
Emma slipped a thick, white McKinley-crested robe over her damp body, slipping on her glasses and flicking back a wisp of hair that had escaped from her clip. The hot tub motor whirred softly in the background as she padded across the penthouse from her bedroom to the living area.
She’d long since gotten past the strangeness of living in a hotel. Now she just enjoyed the view, the expert cleaning service and the convenience of hot meals at any hour of the day or night. McKinley’s head offices were on the third floor of the Fifth Avenue Inn. So on blustery winter days, she was only an elevator ride from work.
She pushed the on button on the television remote and curled up in one corner of the wine-colored sectional sofa, tossing a brocade pillow out of the way. It was eleven-fifteen, Friday night. She’d skipped dinner, and she was thinking a cheese tray and a glass of Cabernet would go well with Business Week Wrap-up on ANN.
She called an order in to the concierge, then settled back to watch Marvin Coventry interview the CEO of Mediterranean Energy. The company was under scrutiny following a merger with a British company and an alleged payout to a UN envoy’s nephew.
A knock sounded a few minutes into the interview, and Emma watched over her shoulder as she headed for the door to let in Korissa.
“Did they remember to add extra grapes?” she asked, while the CEO squirmed under the reporter’s questions. Good. His shareholders deserved an explanation.
“I have no idea,” came a male voice.
Emma twisted her head to come face to face with Alex Garrison. Her eyes went wide, and she jerked the lapels of her robe together. “I thought you were Korissa.”
“I’m Alex.” His gaze took in her robe, her haphazard hair and her clunky glasses.
“What are you doing here?” She hadn’t expected to see him again until tomorrow night at the Teddybear Trust fundraiser, and she definitely wasn’t ready to go another round with him. She tugged at her lapels, especially not dressed like this.
He glanced down at the briefcase in his left hand. “I thought you’d like to see my financial records.”
“At eleven-thirty at night?”
“You said you wanted a prenup.”
Sure she wanted a prenup. But not now. Right now she wanted to sleep, and to regroup before facing him again. “I’m not-”
“No time like the present.” He glanced pointedly at the room behind her, then shifted almost imperceptibly forward.
Emma stepped sideways to block his path as the nearly soundless whirr of a room service cart announced Korissa’s arrival.
The woman halted her brisk steps and glanced questioningly at Alex. “Shall I bring another glass?”
“That would be nice,” said Alex. And before Emma could protest, he slipped through the door beside her.
Emma wasn’t about to make a scene in front of Korissa, but the man was not staying. She moved out of the way of the cart.
“Nice,” Alex murmured, glancing around at the Persian carpet, the marble fireplace and the Tiffany chandelier.
“Thank you,” Emma said stiffly, while Korissa transferred the cheese tray, wine and fresh flowers to the dining table.
Then Korissa left the penthouse and closed the door behind her.
Emma yanked the sash of her robe tight. “This is not a convenient time.”
He set the briefcase down on the dining table and held up his palms in surrender. “I apologize. But I just got out of a meeting.”
His gaze seemed to snag on her outfit once again.
“I take it you had a free evening?”
“No, I did not have a free evening. I had a conference call, three supply contracts to approve and an accounting meeting that lasted past ten.”
“But you’re free now.” He opened up the case.
She stared pointedly down at her robe. “Do I look free?”
He fought a grin. “You look…”
“Forget it.”
“I was going to say cute.”
“You were going to say awful.”
His brow furrowed for a split second. “Why do you always-”
“What do you want, Alex?”
He shook his head, then he lifted an envelope from his briefcase. “I want to swap financial statements.”
“Call me in the morning.” She wanted to sleep. Nothing more, nothing less.
“I’m booked up all day.”
“Well, I’m booked up all night.”
He stilled. His glance shot to her bedroom door. “You have company?”
It took a moment for his meaning to set in. Of all the nerve. “No, I do not have company.”