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By fifteen he could explain the entire infrastructure of an oil rig. By twenty-five, he had the degree to back it up.
While his buddies were out partying, screwing everything in a skirt and living the college life, he’d been here, learning how the internal infrastructure of a billion-dollar company thrived at his father’s insistence. Not that he wanted it any other way. He shoved a hand through his hair.
A company runs like a machine, his old man had explained countless times.Tend to it like you would any piece of equipment, care for the people and you’ll never see failure.
The world had lost a wise man. Marshall scrubbed his face. Now it was his turn. And quite frankly it scared the shit out of him not to have the old man standing behind him, pushing him forward.
“Your father used to have the same look on his face every time he had a board meeting. His pinstriped suit was just as starched as his stern look. Something else you got from him.” A slight tremble graced the woman’s words.
That fact worried him. He’d grown up thinking the sun set with her. To hear the worry, fear, and grief in her voice made his chest ache. She gave all of herself to her family and now he couldn’t do anything.
Marshall caught the reflection of his mother in the spotless glass as she entered his office. His assistant stood at the door and slowly closed it behind his mother.
The older woman crossed the room, arms out. Raven black hair that hadn’t changed since he could remember and the same easy smile she so effortlessly offered. The crease lines around her eyes stood out from pale skin.
“Good morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, dear.”
He gave her an extra squeeze before letting her pull away.
“Don’t look so somber and serious, sweetheart. Everything will be fine. Smile. It makes everything a little easier and your father would hate to see you being so hard on yourself. Now, are you ready?” There went that tremor again.
Marshall leaned forward and kissed his mother’s cheek. “I think all your easy charm sidestepped the boys of the family and landed all on Stella.”
His mom sighed. “I can’t argue with you there. But that’s not an answer. Speaking of Stella, have you seen your little sister this morning?”
He nodded. “She’s playing interference with the media. She sent a message that she might miss the meeting.” He paused to consider how to put the last hour of his thoughts into cohesive words. “I don’t think you prepare for this kind of thing, Mom. The board members are going on leave for some summer R&R and they want a solid answer before they take off. They want to know that they will have a company to come back to at the end of July.”
“So give it to them.” His mother stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her. “Does this mean you have made your decision?”
“Did Pop leave me a choice?”
“Mr. Blackwood, the board is ready when you are.”
Marshall turned his gaze to his assistant and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Carter.”
“The choice is yours. Just remember you’ll have to live with that choice one way or the other, dear.” His mother left out the side door, not looking back. She hated to interfere but her silence told him everything he needed to know.
He slipped a fresh shirt out of the side closet and snagged a new tie, but nothing would help the circles under his eyes. A restless night of work and worry had a way of leaving a man looking like crap.
Stacks of papers called for his attention from his desk. Contracts that needed his final signature and schematics for a new rig that needed finalizing before his engineering team took over. Normally he had other people—his brothers—handle the finer details, but he couldn’t push himself to step back and not be elbows deep in the mechanics of it all.
All that mental baggage weighed on him but he pushed it aside.
Shoulders back, he carried the weight of the future for his company on his shoulders and took his place at the head of the table. All eyes slid to him. Before him sat fifteen of the most important people to him and the company. The engine his father spoke about.
Each waited for him to gather his words.
“I’m here to settle your fears my father may have left you with in his passing last week. I know you are all aware of the stipulation that hangs over me and that the future of this company relies on my answer to that requirement for me to remain the CEO of BlackCo. According to my father’s will, I have six months to find a bride or the company will be dismantled. Trust me, that is the last thing I want to see happen here. I want to reassure the entire board this will not come to pass and BlackCo Oil is safe. It’s safe now just as it will be safe for future generations.”
Marshall squeezed the bridge of his nose to push back a sharp pain. He’d do anything needed of him to secure his family and the family of those under him. Even if it meant strapping himself into a marriage he didn’t want if it came down to it in the final hour.
And they probably knew it. His father did. Why else would he saddle him like this? But six months gave a man time. Time could be his ally in this case after all.
Anything could happen in six months, but he had no intention of it ending with anything close to him uttering I DO if he could help it. He’d find a workaround if it took six months of all-nighters to do it.
“We know you’ll do the right thing, Marshall. Even the most stubborn of people can find a bride in the time he gave you. We have faith in you and in what your father left behind,” spoke his father’s oldest friend and eldest member of the board. His expression conveyed the reassurance the older man offered.
