Page 171 of One Wealthy Wedding

He presses a hard, hungry kiss to my mouth. “I knew she would. Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

I laugh. “In a suit?”

“Mm, yes. All…power-hungry and ruthless.” He kisses me again. “Want me to stop this elevator right now? I need you.”

I laugh again, drunk on success and Theo. “I don’t think that will endear me to the board.”

He nips at my neck. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew you could do it.”

“Only ten more conversations to go,” I say.

Ten more conversations, and Peterson International is mine.

Well, mine and Theo’s. Instead of feeling fear at sharing the company with my husband, I feel pride. He’ll continue on with Kings Lane, but he’ll be a board member and 25 percent shareholder. The biggest stake held by a non-blood relative in the history of the company. He deserves it and more.

Of the next ten board members, three say no, but seven give me definitive yeses. The oldest-serving member, Mr. Charles Harrison, is thrilled to see my father gone. He complains loudly about my father’s conduct, and I smile to myself while nodding seriously. He and I are going to get along just fine.

On Monday afternoon, I try to occupy myself around the mansion while the board meets. Theo tries to get me to go into the sauna with him, but I don’t think I can sit still.

At five p.m., my father calls.

“What the hell have you done, girl?”

Theo is watching me from his seat in the kitchen. His face hardens when I mouth to him that my father is on the line.

“You know what, Dad? Let’s have this discussion in person. I’ll come to you.”

Theo’s jaw works as we head for the garage. There’s no discussion of whether he needs to come with me. We discussed this weeks ago, part of the battle plan.

He drives with barely controlled rage and an expression that gets blacker and blacker as we near Rockwood.

“I love you,” I tell him.

“I love you,” he says, his shoulders lowering a fraction.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say. “You don’t have to come back to this awful place.” We discussed it, but I feel sick at the thought of Theo being confronted with the past.

“I need to be there. For you.”

I nod. I understand. My stomach gets tighter and tighter as we approach, but my limbs feel fluttery and weak.

The long drive to the estate looks the same as ever—designed to be imposing, but cold and austere.

When we knock on the door, it feels like I might throw up. I clutch Theo’s hand, and he squeezes mine in return. He’s here. He won’t let me fall.

My father himself opens the door. He looks angry and tired. The outside matches the poisonous inside, at least.

“What do you want?” His voice is cutting, slicing me into ribbons.

What did I expect?

I crumple inside. I’m seventeen again, being yelled at for wearing the wrong dress. I’m fifteen again, going without dinner because Theo and I climbed a tree and broke one of the limbs. I’m eight again, watching my father bring my stepmother to my mother’s funeral.

“Let us inside,” Theo says. “Cat has some items she wants to retrieve.” His tone brooks no argument, and surprisingly, my father complies.

We follow him into the formal living room that’s seen a hundred awkward family encounters. There’s no warmth in this house.

“So your little bid was successful,” he says snidely. “Did he put you up to this?” He jerks his head at Theo.

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