I faked a smile. My new signature move.
Rhodes was at the head of the table, standing. His gaze found mine across the room. Even as my heart rate sped up, something steadied inside me as I headed to his side. He was wearing another custom navy suit, a maroon tie knotted precisely at his throat. He looked like he owned the place.
Well, that made sense. He did own the place.
Miranda sat to his left, spine straight, expression fake-pleasant (it had to be fake, this was Miranda we were talking about) and perfectly unreadable. Her eyes tracked to me with the calm patience of someone who had already made her plans and was simply waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.
I took my seat on the other side of Rhodes, folded my hands, and smiled at no one in particular.
“For those of you who haven’t met her, this is Rory Harris, my fiancé,” Rhodes introduced me. “I’ve taken the unusual step of asking her to join us because our engagement is a material term of my father’s trust. It’s one of the items we need to discuss today.”
The board members nodded and murmured. Abigail Furst gave me a thumbs up.
Terry Hazleton stood, thanked Rhodes, and started talking.
Here we go.
The meeting opened with formalities I didn’t entirely follow. There was procedural language, motions, and a lot of words that meantwe are powerful people doing Important Shit. It went on at length until a short recess was called to distribute copies of reports. I sat beside Rhodes, keeping my hands folded and my expression interested and warm, which was a tremendous acting achievement given that my internal monologue had devolved into something resembling a recurring car alarm.
Mom called Grammy. Miranda is investigating. Mom called Grammy. Miranda is investigating. The clock is?—
“Rory.Rory.”
That broke my reverie. Abigail Furst was looking at me from across the table, her enormous watch catching the light.
“Do you want some coffee?” she teased. “You look like you’re not quite awake—I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. And no thank you on the coffee,” I said politely.
“The board members who arrived this morning were asking—how did you and Rhodes meet? I couldn’t recall.” Abigail looked as interested in our relationship as ever, which made me feel queasy.
“We met at a party in Manhattan,” I lied, the words reflexively spilling out of my mouth. “And I never go to parties, so when I met him, and we didn’t stop talking all night? I knew it had to be fate.”
“Ah. Love at first sight,” she said approvingly. “You’ve got that look. I’ll have some of that, thank you very much!”
I could detect Miranda’s nostrils flaring from two seats away.
Reports were handed out, and the meeting resumed. Rhodes spoke at length about Q4 projections, a restructuring initiative he’d been reviewing, as well as a Singapore acquisition that had apparently been stalled for two years and was now, under his direction, on the verge of closing. He was calm and precise and coolly competent, and I watched the faces around the table nodding along. There was a gravitational quality to the way he spoke. He didn’t perform authority; he naturally exuded it.
Rahim asked a pointed question about the transition timeline. Haruki had concerns about the Singapore terms. Rhodes handled both without breaking stride, and when Andrew, at the far end of the table, cracked a dry joke about legal fees, Rhodes almost smiled. The room relaxed a degree.
Miranda said almost nothing. She sat with her hands folded and her expression fake-pleasantly neutral and contributedexactly three remarks, each courteous and completely without warmth. She asked one question about the board’s fiduciary obligations regarding the trust terms. Rhodes fielded it without flinching, but I thought:I am not flinch-less.
That bitch is coming for me, and I will absofuckinglutely flinch when she does.
“I think I speak for several of us,” said a man named Gerald, who had distinguished silver hair, “when I say that the trajectory here is encouraging. The Singapore deal alone…” He nodded in approval. “Edmund would have been pleased.”
The room murmured agreement. Even Andrew lifted his coffee cup in a small salute.
Terry Hazleton nodded toward Rhodes. “To be entirely transparent, we’ve had some concerns. It’s imperative that we follow your father’s wishes. I know how much he wanted Barrington Enterprises to continue after he passed. It’s our duty to conduct the due diligence required to honor that.”
Terry paused, looking from Miranda to Rhodes. “I know that Edmund wanted you to succeed him. Things seem in order, and I appreciate the time and commitment you’ve given to your review. I also appreciate that you’re doing your best to grant your father’s last wishes.”
His gaze tracked over to me. “We haven’t seen anything to contradict your statements, and we value your integrity. I think we can leave it at that.”
Terry glanced at the other board members, who nodded in encouragement. “We’ll want the final filings in order before the formal vote,” Terry continued. “But I think we can say with reasonable confidence…” He paused, glancing around the table one final time. “The board supports the continuation of Rhodes’s leadership.”
More nodding. Murmuring in agreement.
