He slid past her while she stared at the sheeting rain, her fingers going numb around the lapels of his jacket. Not only was he firing her, but he expected her to work for him? Expected her to leave Chicago? This was her city, dammit! He didn’t reserve the right to boot her out.
When she turned, Reese was pressing a button on the wall. His office doors whispered open.
A balding, smiling man appeared in the doorway and gave Reese a wave of greeting. He noticed her next and offered a nod.
Well. Merina didn’t care who he was; he was about to get an earful. She wouldn’t allow Reese Crane to dismiss her after dropping that bomb on her feet.
She stomped over to the doorway between him and his guest.
“You listen to me, you suited sewer rat.” Disregarding their current third party, she seethed up at Reese. “I’m going to find a way around your machinations and when I do, I’m going to march back in here with the contract my parents signed and shove it straight up your ass.”
Reese’s eyebrows rose, his lips with them. Instead of apologizing to his guest, he grinned over at the balding man, who to his testament was appropriately shocked, and said, “You’ll have to forgive Ms. Van Heusen. She doesn’t like when she doesn’t get her way.”
The balding man laughed, though it sounded a tad uneasy.
Reese tilted his head at Merina. “Will there be anything else?”
“Your head on a pike.” With that parting blow, she left, holding fast to the suit jacket. She wore it on the ride down the elevator, through the bland lobby, and out onto Superior Street, where she wadded it up and threw it into a mud puddle gathering near the curb.
She walked back to the Van Heusen in the rain, telling herself she’d won this round. But Merina didn’t feel victorious.
She felt lost.
Chapter 2
Reese Crane had nine problems—the other members of the board of directors, now disassembling, murmuring to each other about dinner and drinks downtown. Left in the conference room were his youngest brother, Tag, and their father, Alex.
“That meeting went as well as expected,” Reese growled. “Bunch of stodgy old placeholders.”
“At least you held it in that long,” his father said.
Reese had nearly bitten his tongue to remain silent during the meeting. Now he felt his lip curl as he watched the horde of suits waddle away. He had one seat on the board. His father another. But they were in the minority. Thanks to his great-grandfather, who started Crane Hotels and lost the controlling percentage to the public.
The board had made it clear last month they would not appoint Reese in the position of CEO of Crane Hotels when Alex retired. Apparently, no one had changed their collective minds. They’d always liked Alex but had never warmed to his sons.
“Disloyal pack of jackals,” Reese said. They saw him as a spoon-fed brat who’d inherited his way to the top floor of Crane Hotels, which was an oversimplified truth. Yes, he was sitting at the position of chief operations officer because his father had founded Crane Hotels, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t work. As COO, Reese was in charge of the daily operations of the company, which was no small task.
“You have a flippant, playboy reputation,” Alex stated, not for the first time. “They’re being careful.”
“I work damn near eighty hours a week,” Reese all but bellowed. “I bleed over fiscal reports.”
“You have to play nice, bro,” Tag advised, wearing an easy smile. His facial hair was so heavy, he may as well have been sporting a beard. Reese’s youngest brother ran Guest and Restaurant Services for Crane Hotels. He did a lot of travel for hotel openings and bar and restaurant events. Typically, you couldn’t get him into a suit. Today, he’d eschewed his usual corporate Indiana Jones look for gray slacks and a white button-down.
All hail the board.
“They don’t like you much either,” Alex said, tipping his head at his other son.
At that, Tag sat straight in his chair and plucked the pencil out of his low-hanging ponytail-bun hybrid. Tag bucked the system every chance he had, so it wasn’t any wonder the board hadn’t appreciated his bravado. He worked hard, but his style was more beach bum than corporate and every one of those old crones knew it.
The mess over who would hold the position of CEO was only between Reese and the board. Tag didn’t want it. Alex was retiring. Their other brother, Eli, was still stationed in the desert and wasn’t interested.
“I have an idea,” Reese announced. Something that had been knocking around in his head since a soaking wet Merina Van Heusen had marched into his office and plunked a doorknob onto his desk.
At the mention of an idea, Alex waited. Tag’s brow creased.
Tag should know better. Of course Reese would come up with a plan before he gave up on being named CEO. It may be an impromptu, mostly old-fashioned plan, but it was a plan.
“Merina Van Heusen came by my office this morning to speak with me about my plans to remodel the Van Heusen.”
Alex’s brow went up.
“She left incensed,” Reese continued. “Stormed out of my office fifteen minutes later but not before insulting me in front of Phil Lightman.”
“You’re remodeling the Van Heusen? That place is a landmark,” Tag said.
“All aboard the ball-busting train.” Reese gave Tag a dry look.
His brother grinned in response. “Well, it is.”
“Shit,” Alex said with a raspy chuckle. His father was in a sleek gray suit and whimsical checkered tie and wore a full white mustache/goatee combo that complemented his thick white hair. He was former military, brawny, had brains and power, and enough balls to say what he meant.
“Shit is right.” Tag winced. “I’ve met Merina Van Heusen. She loves that hotel. I bet she freaked.”
Reese frowned. He’d never met her before this morning. “Where did you meet Merina Van Heusen?”
“Hotel supply conference.” Tag shrugged.
Reese shook his head. If there was a party, Tag was there. It’s one reason he was damn good at what he did for Crane. No one schmoozed like Tag.
“I spoke to her and her parents about the VH. It was obvious she loved that building for more than its bottom-line potential,” Tag said.
“Bad business,” Alex put in.
“Merina is more than just a numbers girl,” Reese stated, agreeing with both his brother and his father. Her passion for her hotel was a tick in the plus column for Reese, because he had something she wanted. That he’d bet she’d do anything to get back.
“I have a perception problem,” Reese said.
Alex grunted his agreement.
“The board sees me as a rich, spoiled prince about to inherit the kingdom. They don’t trust me. I’m unsettled. A loner.” A playboy, the tabloids said. He didn’t care for the insulting title, but it wasn’t untrue. He enjoyed the company of a number of women, consensually, of course, and he wasn’t about to apologize for it.
“A man-whore?” Tag offered.
Reese glared.
“Last one.” Tag held up a hand of surrender and smiled around his beard, a flash of straight, white teeth thanks to braces he’d bitched about for two years.