Page 39 of The Beat Match

Anger practically wafted off of him. “You wouldn’t.”

Of course she wouldn’t. But the threat hit on target. “Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t. Is it worth testing me?”

He jabbed a hand through his dark hair and slashed a look at the exit as though he might bolt. Instead he leveled her with a baleful stare. “You have yourself a deal. But you won’t talk while you’re here. You won’t ask questions. I won’t even know you’re in the room. Don’t think I’ll bend the rules and go easy on you.”

She was done with easy. She was ready to learn the extent of her perseverance.

Which now included learning if Weston Aldrich had feelings for her.

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12

“Say that again.” Weston was having déjà vu. It was the only explanation as to why he was in his office, staring at his father, once again at a loss for words.

His father’s face was pinched. “Saanvi gave her notice. She’s leaving.”

The blow was as harsh the second time around. “She’s our best researcher. She’s one of the reasons we’re Karim’s top choice for the Biotrell merger. And she signed a non-competition clause. She’s not going anywhere. We’ll offer her more money. Better perks. Whatever it takes to keep her on board.”

“You don’t think I pulled out all the stops to convince her? And she’s not taking a job with our competition.”

“Then why the hell would she leave so suddenly?”

“She said she needs a break.” His father’s left cheek twitched.

As a kid, that small muscle spasm would send Weston searching for shelter: a door to slip through, a menu to lift in front of his face, a nearby escape hatch. When he got older, the twitch meant threats were on the horizon.

The day Weston had blown off a summer work meeting, still reeling from his mother’s death, Victor S. Aldrich had sat Weston down, his cheek twitching, face splotchy as he’d listed his son’s faults. “You’re out of control. It makes you weak. It’s an embarrassment to me, to the Aldrich name. You want respect in life? Earn it. You want to be successful? Don’t welch on commitments. Everyone has hardships. Another stunt like this and you can find another job.”

It hadn’t been an empty threat. After his wife’s death, Victor had fired his longtime chauffeur for picking him up late. Once. Even as a kid, Weston had overheard the man cut off his own parents, whom Weston had been forbidden from speaking with. Years later they’d been refused attendance at their daughter-in-law’s funeral, because they’d once asked to borrow money for a gambling debt. A taint on the family name, Victor had declared. He hadn’t yelled or cursed at them. The man was vicious in his quiet decisiveness, but he could ooze venom.

He was also brilliant and savvy. And incredibly sad.

No one else would know it to see it, but Weston knew. He saw. He’d seen Victor blow into the house with flowers and gifts, whisking his wife away on last minute trips. He’d catch them dancing in the living room, no music playing, secret smiles on their faces. Victor hadn’t been a natural father, but he had loved his wife. And they’d had family dinners back then. Between Victor’s bouts of domineering temper, there had been moments of affection as he’d ask Weston about his day and praise his school efforts. Birthdays and holidays had held laughter and joy.

The man now spent holidays at the office and his secretary purchase and deliver birthday gifts. The only affection he showed Weston was a nod for work well done. Their relationship would never be functional, but Weston didn’t have the heart to tell the man where to shove his briskness. Cutting him off would tarnish his mother’s memory.

At least with business, they had something in common. “How do we get Saanvi back?” Weston asked.

“We don’t.”

“Since when do you give up?”

“Since I have it on good authority DLP has leverage on Saanvi.”

“Blackmail?”

His father cocked his head. “Does this surprise you?”

No. Not when it came to DLP. Rumors had circled them for years, the worst story revolving around a woman’s death. The company had never been convicted of hiring a thug to dig up dirt on the woman’s husband—a ploy to sink their competition—but Joseph Anderson claimed someone had been tailing them. Their erratic driving had caused his car to crash, killing his wife instantly. No charges had been laid against DLP, but everything about them reeked of deceit.

Now Saanvi was likely caught in their crosshairs. She’d always behaved above board, as far as Weston knew, diligent in her work, appreciated by the staff. Could be her family had skeletons that needed protecting. Regardless, the loss was another merger obstacle. Saanvi was their head Alzheimer’s researcher. Karim had hoped her input would push Biotrell’s clinical trials to the next phase. It would be a hefty blow.

“As much as that loss pains me,” Victor said, already heading for the door, “you’re the one dating Karim’s daughter. No bribes can alter that leverage. As long as you keep her happy, we have nothing to worry about.”

Such a crock of shit. “So my work doesn’t matter? The months and years I’ve spent lining up this deal mean nothing if I don’t put a ring on Rosanna’s finger?” The last thing either of them wanted.

His father’s left cheek twitched again. This time Weston eyed his desk. At thirty-three he still wanted to dive under it. “One sign of weakness—”