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Noah blinked. “It’s a lot of money.”
“You have the authority as well as a budget. You’re responsible for real estate acquisitions in Asia.”
“I enjoy hearing Uncle Theodore’s perspective.”
Rafe also appreciated his father’s guidance. Theodore might not want any part of day-to-day anymore, but it was his view of the industry that had shaped Sterling for the last generation. He might not like the responsibility, but he’d been damn good at it. “As I said, it’s on you if it fails.”
“You need to stop covering for Uncle Theodore.” Uninvited, Noah took a seat and propped his ankle on top of his opposite knee. “I’ve been leaving him messages for a couple of weeks. And I stopped by the house on Friday. If he’s not going to run Sterling Worldwide, he needs to be removed as CEO. The attorney I spoke to—”
“Close the door on your way out.”
“Listen, Rafe, even you have to admit—”
“Close the door on your way out.”
For long, tense moments, Noah remained where he was. But Rafe raised an eyebrow, refusing to yield.
Eventually, Noah stood. “Consider yourself warned.”
When Rafe was alone in the reverberating silence, he sighed. Then he called his attorney.
With the few details that Rafe outlined, Mercedes confirmed what Rafe already knew. As long as Theodore was absent, uncertainty abounded. Noah could file a lawsuit. Mercedes would challenge it, and perhaps a judge would throw it out. If not, Sterling Worldwide had a protracted, expensive mess in front of it. The press would feed from the carcass for years.
If Rafe were married, the succession would be clearer, making it much more difficult for Noah to prevail in court.
Rafe was trapped. Hopelessly fucking trapped.
Mouth set in a grim line, he ended the call, then pulled out the folders containing his bridal candidates. With determination, he flipped each one open in turn.
He glanced at the pictures and read the brief biographies that the women had written. And he reached his decision. None of the above. He wanted sexy Hope Malloy.
An hour later, Jeanine interrupted, saying that the Prestige Group was on the phone for him.
Heat flared in his blood, unexpected and unwelcome. To focus on his pursuit of Hope, he shoved away the desire that was so strong it disturbed him.
He pressed a button on his phone to accept the call on speaker so her voice could wrap around him. “Ms. Malloy.” He kept his tone controlled.
“Mr. Sterling? This is Skyler Morrison at the Prestige Group. I’m Hope’s assistant.”
Disappointment crawled through him.
As if she hadn’t crushed his fantasies, Skyler continued, “Hope asked me to call to let you know that we have a mixer scheduled for Thursday afternoon at four. We’ll have a private room at the Ivy.”
“I prefer to have it at the International.” There was no reason for him to change the venue, except for the fact that he wanted this charade to happen at his club, where he was more in control.
Silence stretched for awkward moments before she said, “Everything is already arranged. The Ivy is an excellent choice. I think you’ll find it suitable.”
“I prefer the International Club.” He’d enjoyed many fine meals at the Ivy, and she was right. The few private rooms made the upscale restaurant an adequate place for a business rendezvous.
Rafe told himself he preferred to do things on his terms. If he were honest, he’d admit it was more than that. He wanted to shake up Hope’s plans and let her know he was in charge. And Thursday was too long to wait to see her. “Wednesday is better for my schedule. My contact is Barbara Thurston. I’ll have her call you.”
“Mr. Sterling—”
“Four o’clock?”
“We prefer to handle the arrangements ourselves.”
“I’m sure you prefer to be in control. So do I.” Hope might have avoided making this call, but that was the last battle she would win. “Let Ms. Malloy know I’m looking forward to it.”
Skyler gave a frustrated sigh before conceding. “Wednesday at four. The International Club.”
He grinned as he ended the call. His round.
