Shaking the memory from her head, Jaclyn squeezed her father’s hand. “Dad, my ballerina days made me a fighter.”
Her smile spurred his.
“Don’t you want a life, Jackie? And a husband?” he asked, and her eye roll answered loud and clear. “Fine, not a husband. But someone to be there for you. That you can lean on. There’s a reason I have three amazing children by three gorgeous wives.”
“Because you’re just too macho for one woman to handle?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Right,” he said with a laugh, but his serious look returned as he gently gripped her hand. “Because no matter how strong every one of those superwomen were, this sort of life takes its toll. Year in and year out, they just couldn’t take it. Hell, half the time I can’t take it.” His helpless eyes were worn and pleading. “One more heart attack, and I’m through.”
“That won’t happen. We won’t let it.” She looked down, watching her thumbs rub reassurance across his hands. “Please don’t sell the company. I can do it. I swear I can.”
“And what if you can’t?” he asked. “Your sister’s galivanting around Europe, doing her own thing. And your brother, well, that’s another story.”
Jaclyn smiled. “He’s artistic.”
“He’s Liberace incarnate. He will undoubtedly be one of the world’s finest interior designers, but corporate minded, he most certainly is not. Money’s the furthest thing from his mind. You won’t be able to rely on either of them if you get in a pinch. And,” he turned away, “there’s nobody else. Once I’m gone . . .”
She looked away as well, not wanting him to see her tear-filled eyes.
He pulled open the top drawer of his mahogany desk, taking out several large envelopes and handing them to her. “I know you don’t want to hear it, Jackie, but even if you don’t want to consider these offers, I have to. Not just for my sake, but for yours.”
“But this is your legacy.”
“No, Jackie. You’re my legacy. You kids are the only legacy I care about anymore, and I need to know you’re going to be okay. All of you.”
She examined the envelopes clasped in her hands, memorizing the names of each of the jerkoffs here for the fire sale. She set the envelopes on the desk one by one.
“Hey, and that last one is an all-cash offer,” her father said proudly. “Over two and a half billion dollars.”
“All cash?” She took back that envelope, pulling out the Black Technologies folder and scanning the offer.
“Think about it, Jackie. This could be your ticket to the life I always wanted for you. For something more than twenty-four/seven work weeks and never seeing the light of day, let alone your loved ones.” He nudged the folder closer to her, saying pointedly, “All cash.”
She picked up the folder again and skimmed the fine print, her mind made up before she flipped to the last page.
Holy shit.
A no-kidding all-cash offer. Like from the fucking mob. Or an Arab sheik.
Over two billion dollars.
Fifteen-day close.
Everett Long to remain for consulting services for as long as desired.
Jaclyn Long’s position to be determined and mutually agreed upon.
She closed the folder and slipped it on top of the others, concealing her true feelings behind a smile. Well, some of her feelings. Imagining punching the shit out of this guy sure sweetened her grin.
“Dad, don’t make a decision. Not yet. Just let me fix this first. Then, if it’s what you really want, I won’t fight you. But,” her puppy dog eyes batted their long lashes, “you know I’ll never be Jackie Homemaker. You’ll just force me to work that much harder building a business from scratch, without the benefit of our family brand behind me.”
He huffed in exasperation. “Dammit, Jackie, if my blood pressure doesn’t kill me, your negotiations will.”
She wrapped a tight hug around his neck. “I learned from the very best,” she said before giving him a tender kiss on his cheek.
Nine
Richard watched the news on the flat-screen TV in his hotel suite, bouncing from one station to the next, stunned and dismayed as the destruction unfolded before his eyes.
A category five, epic fucking shitstorm.
First, he checked how exposed, or overexposed, Jaclyn’s clip was. It was all over the place. She was all over the place. Television. Online. Fucking everywhere, like she’d hired a publicist. He methodically clicked through all the stations again, then every internet clip, searching for any glimpses of his new blond hair.
He hadn’t been caught. At least, not at the moment. His time would definitely be up if he’d been captured on video. Others might be fooled by his average-guy disguise, but facial recognition software would rat him out in a heartbeat. And he wasn’t ready for the big reveal.
Not yet.
Phone in hand, he sent a text.
RICHARD: New idea. Need prototype ASAP.
PENNY: Lay it on me, Richie Rich.
RICHARD: The glasses I’m wearing. The B-2s. There’s a second prototype in my office. Retrofit them with a reflector for any pixel-based technology. Cell phones. Video feeds. I want it to auto-glare and distort the image. An anti-facial-recognition add-on.
He waited as the text bubbles bounced, then stopped, then bounced again.
PENNY: Um . . . totally genius. Seriously, do you just hang around until ideas turn to gold? You’re like some insane technology alchemist. Yes, we can target pixels. Film coating would be quickest and easiest application. Prototype when? A week?
RICHARD: You’ve got an hour. I’ll be by and need to take it with me.
PENNY: An HOUR?! Hang on. I’m making you a whole new type of technology, something that doesn’t exist in reality as we know it, going all-out Star Trek on your ass, and you want it in an hour?? What do I get?
RICHARD: You get to keep your job. 58 minutes.
PENNY: I get your car until the new satellite office is completely up and running. I’m already on it.
RICHARD: Which car? 57 minutes.
PENNY: Ash. And the formula is already being worked.
Is it me, or is everyone going out of their way to walk all over me lately?
RICHARD: How about a brand-new Jag instead? Big bow. All yours. 56 minutes.
PENNY: I want Ash. And I want him baaadddd.
RICHARD: Fine. Ash. I’ll bring him with me. 55 minutes.
PENNY: The test guys are drooling at the concept, so you’ll have your glasses, and I’ll have my way with your baby, starting tonight.
RICHARD: God help the rest of the drivers on the road. See you in 54 minutes. I’ll be the one rolling up in the terrified Aston Martin.
PENNY: Don’t be surprised if this place is in shambles. We focused on setting up the lab first for the satellite operation, but it’ll get there. Give me a teensy bit of time on that one.