Page 39 of The Feud

Trey slowly rises from his chair. “Let’s just get on with knocking his teeth out.” Trey cracks his knuckles menacingly.

I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I jerk my head toward the office door. “You get out of here too, Trey. Let me talk to him in private.”

Trey doesn’t argue, but keeps his hardened gaze pinned on Gabe as he walks out of the office with Kat. She also levels the Mardraggon with a nasty glare before they leave.

When the door shuts, I turn and cross my arms. “I know damn well you didn’t come here to talk about the meeting I had with your mother. If anyone cared enough about it, Lionel would have been on my doorstep that night. As it stands, you all know you’ve got no legal standing to see Sylvie without my permission, so why are you really here?”

Gabe motions with his hand toward one of the guest chairs. “May I?”

I nod, not really wanting to extend the courtesy but I figure I’ll save up for what will surely be a fight. I take the abandoned office chair but don’t cock back in it the way Trey had, instead perching on the edge, my hands folded on the desk.

Gabe settles suavely into his seat after unbuttoning his suit jacket, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m here about Alaine’s trust agreement.”

I frown at him. “None of my business. I can take care of Sylvie without it.”

“No doubt you can, despite some appearances,” Gabe says disdainfully, glancing around the office. It isn’t posh by Mardraggon standards. “But that’s not my concern.”

“How about you get to the part that’s actually bothering you so I can assure you and then you can be on your way out of our lives.”

Gabe chuckles but it’s mirthless and his eyes are flat. “See, that’s the problem. The trust agreement puts us squarely in each other’s lives.”

My scowl deepens. “Come again?”

“Apparently, my sister wasn’t in the right frame of mind when she had the trust redrafted before she died. Our lawyers will contest it, but for now, it appears that you and I have been named as co-trustees in managing the winery for Sylvie.”

Of all the things I could have imagined Gabe Mardraggon saying, this is nowhere close to being on the list. “Impossible.”

“If only it were,” Gabe says drolly. “But Alaine felt like your counsel was necessary and until Sylvie turns twenty-one, we are required to partner in all decisions.”

“Wait a minute,” I say, sitting up straighter. “Back up. I assumed your family owned the winery. Are you telling me that Sylvie does?”

“Prior to Alaine’s death, she owned controlling shares. The winery was never a passion for my parents or my grandparents, for that matter. They were content to let Alaine run it and reap the profits from their nominal shares. But as it stands, now that Alaine is dead, my parents believe all controlling interests should be reverted to the main family trust.”

There’s something about Gabe’s tone that catches my suspicion. “Your parents believe that… but do you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gabe says with a wave of his hand. “I’m here now talking to you about it. Like I said, our lawyers are going to contest the trust but that takes time and the court system moves slow. I’m merely here to let you know that according to the trust documents, you have an equal say—as Sylvie’s father—in how the winery business is conducted.”

“No,” I say with supreme confidence. “That’s not why you’re here. So how about for once in your life you speak the truth and tell me what you really want.”

Gabe inclines his head with a sly smile as if to say, well played. “Our lawyers believe we have a strong argument that due to Alaine’s brain cancer, she wasn’t competent when she made those decisions. While we can’t contest paternity, there’s a good chance that a court will see it our way and remove you as trustee. I’m here to offer an alternative to a very long, very expensive court battle.”

I feel my hackles rising. “And that would be?”

“The Mardraggon trust is willing to offer you a substantial amount of money right now for Sylvie’s interests. We’ll be glad to leave her a minor amount, which will still provide a sizable yearly income for her and—”

“No.”

Gabe blinks at me. “Don’t you even want to know what I’m offering?”

“Nope.” I shake my head and stand from the desk. “I’m not selling Sylvie’s shares. That’s her winery. She loves that place. It’s her legacy.”

Tipping his head to look at me, Gabe doesn’t bother to give up his seat. “I would have thought you’d want her legacy to be this farm.”

“Who says a girl can’t have two legacies?” I quip, then move around the desk and to the door that leads outside. “Now… if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

Gabe sighs and slowly rises from his chair, buttoning his jacket. “I think you should reconsider.”

“Not going to happen. That winery is going to stay in Sylvie’s control and if that means I have to work by your side to make it profitable, then I’ll suck it up past the nausea and do it.”

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