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Stella’s shoulders visibly relaxed. And thank God for that. He couldn’t put up with her tears right now.
“No way can you let anyone get their hands on this company. You know that little weasel Becker is just waiting in the wings for you to fail so he can swoop in and start slicing and dicing this company apart with a freaking legal machete.”
Shawn took his place by the window and started his own cycle of pacing. “I can’t remember the last time I dated, to be honest. We’ve all been so busy here or at home. His last months were hard on all of us.”
“You don’t need to remember. I do. And it was one shitty Ms. Pricilla Masterson aka money grabber bitch from hell.”
“Don’t feel you need to sugar coat anything.” Marshall lifted a brow at her, which earned him a cocky smile.
“Facts are facts, big brother.”
“Masterson? As intheMastersons?” Sam pegged him with an incredulous stare, his brows playing in his hairline from his spot over the blueprints.
“Yeah. But it was only a couple of dates before I saw through her ulterior motives for her dear daddy dearest.”
“Glad you nipped that in the bass early on. That wouldn’t look too good with the board.” Shawn never chanced anything if it could be helped. He couldn’t blame him.
“See, you do recall.” Stella poked his shoulder.
Marshall nodded, his attention already refocused on the rig designs Cole and Sam were reviewing.
They each worked in different areas of the business. He sat as the CEO. Shawn held down the fort in the legal department. Stella handled communications. Cole and Sam each held their own degrees in engineering and were more hands-on with the mechanics of the oil rigs than the rest of them. Something he missed. Back-to-back meetings, boring contracts and fundraisers didn’t spell out the perfect life he envisioned for himself when he started out, but he did it for the family.
Each of their lives interlocked with this place. He couldn’t risk their future.
That settled that.
“Jason-piece of shit-Becker won’t have the chance to get his grimy hands on BlackCo. I’ll either find a loophole or a bride before my birthday.”
He winked at his sister to help ease the tension in the room.
Stella crossed his office and placed a hand on either shoulder. “So it’s a shot-gun summer wedding for the Blackwoods?” she asked with a pained, sorrowful look. Her eyes drifted to the door before coming back to his. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“What’s there to be sorry about?”
Her smile dimmed.
“Hey, don’t be so gloomy.” He pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. “There’s no way Becker is going to get BlackCo. Even if I have to marry Betty the damn poodle to make sure of that.”
That had Stella smiling. “I’m sure Mom would love to see you marry the family pooch. That should add some humor to the family album.”
“But it would save you from watching Becker waltz through those doors,” Marshall assured her.
His one-time best friend and now sworn enemy—his words, not Marshall’s—had a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas. Paired with an ornery streak that was just as impossible. The man had his eye set on BlackCo since the day the man’s father disinherited him.
He’d been working to find a way back into his old man’s good grace ever since.
Marshall circled his desk and fell into his chair, the spring protesting the abuse. “Who in the world can find a bride in fourteen days and plan a wedding?”
“You, it seems. First time for everything”
“Stella, you always did have a way with words.” Shawn didn’t bother looking up this time.
“It’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
His younger sister flipped through several channels until she found one showing some flashy reality star at a wedding. His gut churned.
Weddings. Flowers, dresses, cakes… he hated the flashy bells and whistles this whole charade would stir up. The media would find out about his predicament and run with it. He’d have to live out of his office. The damn media would be a nightmare to wade through just to get home.
