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"Time you could use elsewhere, I suppose?"
"Why you have to get so involved with each and every aspect of it is beyond me. Why can't you maintain some distance?"
Zac chuckled. His mother portrayed herself as the ultimate business paragon. He'd learned from her example, but had gone his own way. He liked to be out there in the thick of it. He also blamed his father—a Greek restaurateur who could never keep himself out of the kitchen, despite the fact he was supposed to be managing his chain of restaurants from a distance.
"I like to work that way, I enjoy seeing things grow and flourish." He lazed back in his chair, breathing the heady aroma of the flowers on the overhead trellis.
Adrianna pouted.
He shrugged, opening his hands in a sign of surrender. "You're going to have to come completely clean with me if you want my help."
She gave a regretful sigh. "I'm in trouble with your father." She looked at him, sheepishly. "When I got the managers set up with the portfolio I insisted the team leader send me a daily report, not just when they needed approvals. I wanted to monitor and approve their every move." She paused. "I had George write it into the contract...but only so that I could check what they were up to."
"Poor old George, I suppose you sweet-talked him into doing it?" George was the family solicitor and he was like putty in Adrianna's hands. He'd had a crush on her for nearly thirty years.
Adrianna carried on regardless, as if eager to get the confession over with. "Your father caught me going through the emails. He was furious. Threatened to leave. You know what he's like."
He thought they'd managed to convince her to outsource the development side of the Ashburn Company, her company. But apparently she hadn't let it go. She'd begged Zac to take over from the outset, but he'd recently got his own business on to steady ground and the time wasn't right. Besides, she had to learn to trust others outside the family. It wasn't easy, god knows he knew that himself. He'd had his fingers burned in the past. But these were professional money managers they were talking about. "It was only a matter of time until you were found out, naughty Adrianna."
"Please, Zac. I know you're busy with your...thing." She waved her hand. She'd never thought the arts world was worthy of his attention. "They do have a good reputation, but I'm not happy with them. They've just announced a change in personnel. The man I've been in contact with is going elsewhere, what sort of impression is that supposed to give a soul? I'd much rather they were working closely with one of us but your father won't let m
e." She gave him an imperious glance. "It is your inheritance, Zachary."
"Ah, so we're playing the inheritance card now, are we?"
She glared at him.
He adopted a more serious expression. "In another few months I can look at the entire situation again, right now my commitments wouldn't allow me to do it justice. In the meantime, do you want me to deal with these daily reports for you, keep an eye on the Robertson people?" Robertson people, attractive receptionist—now why did that sound so interesting?
Adrianna broke into a relieved smile, leaned over and rested her hand over his. "Would you, darling? I'd be so glad."
"If you promise to rest."
She didn't answer. Instead she rustled about under the table, pulling out a glossy, bound file. "You'll need this."
He fought back another laugh and took it from her hand. It was the dossier of the Robertson team, a standard business pack presented to clients.
"I've arranged an end of month meeting. They've got the contract until then."
"That's not very long."
"I wanted a get-out if I didn't like them."
"Or you decided to take over again," he murmured. She was incorrigible. He leafed through the folder while sipping on his iced tea. Stats and recommendations lined up against publicity shots. It all looked pretty solid, but one could never tell. He was about to snap the file shut when something caught his eye.
Adrianna was still verbalizing her concerns in the background, but her voice faded away. He flipped the pages back. There she was, the receptionist. His blood heated immediately.
He scrutinized the group shot. She was dressed impeccably and standing between the head of the organization and another suited man. He scanned the names. Abigail Douglas. Investment Advisor. He did a double take.
What do you know? He flicked through the resumes at the back of the file. According to the suggested Ashburn team list, she was heavily involved in running his Mother's affairs. How amusing.
"Well, well." He glanced up.
"What is it, have you found something already?"
"Don't get carried away with your wishful thinking." He closed the file. "Trust me. I'll do all that I can to watch over your interests."
"And you won't tell your father?"
