“I know, dammit.” He shot off the couch, seeking the ocean air from the window. “Since we’re being candid, I didn’t agree with Connor’s decisions, but I backed him.”
“Because you were loyal to him as your brother and your CEO,” she finished for him, coming over to put her hand on his back.
The shock of her touch tore through him, so unexpected.
“Yes, I understand such complications. The desire to do one’s family duty. The need to occasionally overlook someone’s personal and professional behavior out of love, as much as to maintain the peace.”
Their eyes held. Her father ran their family company, and she’d essentially left Quinn to go work for him. All it had taken was a call for help, made at the right time. Having been raised with a family business, she well understood there could be an emotional subtext to profit & loss statements, no matter how neutral a person tried to be. She’d left her father’s company six years ago, and while it was rumored there’d been some sort of disagreement with her father, she’d never made a public statement.
Since then, she’d traveled around the world, working with Fortune 500 executives on everything from corporate restructuring to billion-dollar acquisitions. He hoped she would tell him the full story someday. If she did speak frankly about the breach, it would be a sign of tremendous trust. She guarded family secrets more closely than even the Merriams did. “I’m glad you understand, Francesca. It makes everything easier.”
“Still, you must deal with the consequences.”
“You think Connor should have been removed after the Irish offshore issue, right?” His older brother had made a unilateral decision that they would no longer pursue offshore drilling after their cousin had died on a Merriam rig. As a result, he’d pushed to purchase a piece of land in Ireland for an inland rig—something that had proven problematic given the owner’s adamant refusal to sell…and the fact that their brother Trevor had fallen madly in love with her. Ultimately, they’d ended up finding an alternate drilling location onshore, thanks to some fast work by Trevor and J.T.
“His best friend had just died in an accident he felt responsible for. Stripping him of his position then would have been cruel. Quinn, I know you and your family were in a no-win situation. Frankly, I think Trevor and J.T. found a brilliant solution to the issue in Ireland. But it didn’t convince people of the merits of the new policy. And then there was the whole screwup in Kenya involving Connor and your sister Michaela… The ripple effects had broad reach. Selling off the pharmaceutical arm couldn’t address it adequately.”
She rubbed the tightness in his back, her touch exactly the balm he needed. He was stunned she hadn’t pulled away, intoxicated by her nearness and her understanding.
“So you see why I need you?” he said. “I can’t explain or defend all that’s come before. It’s been messy, and personal as hell. Francesca, Connor thought about suicide.” Not that his brother would admit it, but he’d seen a picture of Connor sitting on a park bench during a Chicago blizzard, dressed in nothing but running clothes. The knowledge of what could have happened—and almost did—had preyed on him almost as much as losing the beautiful woman who was now comforting him.
“I’d wondered.” Her hand pressed into his vertebrae, releasing more tension, and the gesture was so familiar it made emotion knot his throat.
“He’s turned it all around now, thanks to counseling and the woman he’s fallen in love with. Louisa has worked miracles, but she’s the director of a homeless shelter in Chicago, so she pretty much works them every day, if you ask me.”
“I’m heartened to hear it.” Her hand left him then and she faced him. “All right, you put all your cards on the table, so I will as well. I did imagine what you must be facing with your family. I also know you, inside and out.”
“Yes, you always did. I’m glad you didn’t throw out some bullshit about people changing.”
“People can change in some ways through self-improvement, but the core of who they are doesn’t. That’s what we call character, and I know yours. Another business consultant might tell you what you’d like to hear. They wouldn’t do the job right. You need me. That’s why I put you in front of others on my waiting list. You and Merriam Enterprises can’t wait for obvious reasons. So we’re just going to have to figure out how to do this with everything between us.”
He looked back at her, studying her somber face. “Is that guilt I see in your eyes?”
“And if it is?” She released a long breath. “I turned down your proposal and left you—for reasons that all made sense at the time—”
“Your father called—”
“It was more than that, and you know it.” Her breathing changed again. “After the 7/7 bombings in London, some people hated me simply because I was Arab. Their hate hurt me—and you! Do you not remember bleeding from the wounds they dealt you? I couldn’t live with it if anything happened to you.”
Some punk teens had thrown stones at her, and he’d stepped in the way. The stitches had meant nothing to him—he would have done so much more to protect her—but he thought of Connor’s volatile reaction to Corey’s death, and something clicked. “I suppose if my older brother—who is one of the strongest people I know—can overreact out of survivor’s guilt, I can’t blame you for doing the same.”
“I was scared, Quinn. I expected to be on edge in Beirut. I didn’t expect it in London. Never had I felt unsafe or uncomfortable there. Suddenly, everything was different. It’s not easy to be looked at suspiciously everywhere you go. Hated for who you are. So no, I didn’t just leave because my father called for my help for the first time. I thought I’d be safer with him in Beirut, and I hoped doing meaningful work would lift my crushed spirits. Because what happened to you in London crushed them, Quinn.”
Her voice was thick with hurt and grief, and he could feel the same stones weighing down his heart, this pain so much more enduring than the projectiles that had lacerated his forehead. “It’s not fun to stroll down this path again, but I’m hearing you with different ears. Maybe it’s because I’m older. Back then, all I wanted to do was love you and protect you. It hurt that you wouldn’t let me.”
She pressed a hand to her heart. “I know I hurt you. Deeply. So yes, there is guilt. Helping you will wipe the slate clean between us. It’s one of my New Year’s resolutions. No more guilt or regret from the past weighing me down anymore.”
He stared at her. “Wipe the slate clean? Francesca, I don’t want you to do this because you think you owe me something. Certainly not as some annual New Year’s resolution exercise. Dammit, I want you to do this because you believe we might have something again, building on something we both love: business.”
Her face fell. “I can’t promise that. Don’t ask me to do so. You know how important such words are to me.”
Yes, he knew. Promises were the same to her as a gentleman’s handshake. “Fine, then, I’ll accept your help. But I’m not going to let any guilt or regret stand between us.”