Page 7 of Landry
Besides, she had no time for boys. While her friends were getting starry-eyed and stupid over some dumb jock, she was hitting the books. She had a plan. She wanted perfect grades; it was expected of her and her brother. Their parents were very successful as well as high achievers; they were supposed to be the same.
She had not minded one bit. Intelligence came naturally to her. She wanted to own her own business, run the show, and she was determined to make her mark.
Then he stepped into her French class, and she was floored. It took one look for both of them to realize that they belonged together.
Finishing the wine, she went to pour some more and took it with her upstairs. She had chosen the cream and rose décor herself and loved the open concept. Her bedroom was large, the king-sized bed sitting in the middle. The walk-in closet had revolving shelves and compartments. She strongly believed in dressing for success, and she had a weakness for designer shoes and sexy lingerie. She could indulge, and she did. She was in a very high-paying job as an executive and could afford all if not most of the luxuries that made life so wonderfully heady.
She had everything she needed, or so she liked to tell herself. If the pangs of loneliness hit, she shrugged it away and buried herself in work. She had no time for self-pity. That was for weaklings, and that was not her.
She had loved and lost, big time. It had not been a childhood crush, but a full-blown love affair that had taken a chunk out of her. His leaving had destroyed her to the point where she wanted to die. Never again, she had sworn to herself. Never would she allow a man that amount of power over her. But wasn't hestill wielding that power? The small, insidious voice murmured inside her head.
Trying to drown it out, she walked into her well-appointed office and sat behind her desk. Work. It was her panacea and the cure for what was ailing her.
***
He had studied the reports in detail. He needed the edge. He needed the knowledge, needed to know everything before he stepped into the meeting on Monday morning. He had flown back home in the company jet and armed himself with the thick dossier on the company. Crenshaw Enterprises was a multibillion-dollar company that specialized in corporate takeovers.
And he was in charge of that side of it. As VP of the company, a title that had been handed down to him when he turned twenty-eight, he was responsible for a lot. And he was good at what he did. He was not just a name on the company letterhead. His father, the rigid and inflexible Lincoln Ian Crenshaw the Third, would never dream of handing down titles because of blood. You had to earn it, and Landry had.
It was work that held him steady over the years. Study and then work. And the company had leapt from a million dollarsto billions over the years. They were a force to be reckoned with and were diversified. They owned several airlines and were about to add another one to their expansive belt.
The malted scotch he was drinking left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was about to go up against his former love, hell, the only woman he had ever loved. Who knew that when he turned sixteen he would fall in love for keeps? Not him, he thought bitterly. He would have done anything not to have this task to do.
He could have handed it over to an assistant. He had trained them, and they were damn good. But he owed it to himself. He owed it to her to be the one to tell her. She was going to hate him more than she did, and that was twisting him inside out. He would endure her hatred and take whatever she had to dish out. But he was going to do his job.
The only good piece of news was that she would retain her title. He would bloody well see to it. She was an excellent manager. The ideas she had implemented had saved the company from going fully bankrupt. The owner, a glorified ass who had never worked a day in his life, had inherited the airline from his hardworking daddy and run it into the ground, only showing up for meetings when his presence was required.
The company had potential, and his research had shown him that with time and an injection of capital, it would be running smoothly.
They usually acquired a company, set it to rights, and turned around and sold it for a whopping profit. They operated out of Europe but had several headquarters in the States. His office was fully set up and waiting for him, and his assistant, the multilingual Leonora Giovanni, had traveled with him. He would have no other. The woman was as cool as the proverbial cucumber and as sharp as a tack. She had been able to leave her home in Venice without hesitation because she had never married and had no children.
She was fiercely loyal to him and did not suffer fools gladly. More than that, she was approaching sixty but looked ten years younger, and she could anticipate his moves without him having to voice it.
Her compensation package was on par with the top executives of the company, but she was worth every penny.
He was about to freshen his drink when he heard the chime of the front door. He did not have to look at his phone to know that it was his sister.
With a beleaguered sigh that his solitude was about to be invaded, he turned from his contemplation of the wooded area surrounding his apartment and watched as she glided into his bedroom and came to join him on the balcony.
"It's dark."
"Just the way I like it." His lips curved in an indulgent smile as he stared at her. They had both inherited their mother's stunning good looks, the combination of burnished blonde hair and jade-green eyes.
Kathy Crenshaw was a willowy, graceful creature that often reminded him of a wood nymph. She was unapologetically spoiled and accustomed to getting her own way. Their parents had been horrified when she jumped into marriage a few years ago when she was twenty years old. The man had been an impoverished royal, and she had been bowled over by his dreamy, poetic look. Somehow, she had come to her senses and decided that having him feed her grapes and write bad poems to her was not worth a bit of her time.
"Aren't you supposed to be home?" he asked mildly as she climbed on the arm of the chair and flung her hands around his neck. Delicate perfume invaded his nostrils and had him leaning against her.
"I snuck out."
"And your guard?"
She flashed him a smile that had dimples peeking out from her cheeks. "I told the idiot that I was retiring to bed and he took my word."
"You're going to get him fired." Landry lifted a hand to stroke the lustrous blonde curls tumbling down her back.
"He deserves to be. He's not doing a very good job as it is." She leaned against him. "I wish I could come and live with you."
"Not a chance." He laughed softly. "Besides, father would never allow it."
