Page 48 of Fifth Avenue Devil

My heart skips a beat at her words. How could she possibly know about Dad's embezzlement? And why is she bringing it up now?

“Don’t you meanourexpenses?” I pin her with a stare. “I don’t recall Dad spending hundreds of thousands of dollars at Bergdorf Goodman or redoing our house every couple of years. That can’t have been cheap.”

My mother simply smiles. It’s a cold, calculating expression that sends shivers down my spine. "Annalise, honestly, I don't see why you're getting so worked up," my mom replies. "This is probably why no one at the company felt comfortable coming to you with this information.”

I narrow my eyes, studying her carefully. It's clear she doesn't want to divulge whatever knowledge she has. How much does she really know about my father's actions and Gellar Industries' precarious situation?

“Mom–” I start. But she looks at her watch, tsking.

“Darling, I must jet. I can’t be late for my charity luncheon.”

“Mom, we’re talking here. Either you want to be part of Gellar Industries, or you don’t. Which is it?”

She lifts her chin. "Sweetheart, I don’t think this merger is in the company’s best interests. We need a board meeting to discuss it."

I throw up my hands. This whole conversation has been infuriating. "Fine! But it won't change anything. The merger was Dad’s choice. I’m just cleaning up the mess he left me to contend with."

"Well, I’m glad you agree. I’ll see you tomorrow at the board meeting I have convened," Mom announces.

My jaw drops. I realize that her entire visit led to this statement.

She smiles coldly and adds, "That dress is much too fitted for you. I’ll send some more appropriate dresses over for you to wear.”

She pats my hand, passes me, and walks out into the hall. I am left with my mouth open, unsure which thing I should even respond to. I turn around and shout, “Don’t send me any dresses!”

But I know that Mom isn’t listening to me. She never does.

Nineteen

Nate

If Annalise hadn’t texted me911last night, I wouldn’t be here right now. After all, I still have a whole business empire to run. But now I lean against the oak desk in Annalise's office, lips pursed. My gaze drifts over the Manhattan skyline outside. The sharp lines of skyscrapers slice through the morning haze and cast long shadows over the rest of the city.

Annalise still hasn’t put her personal stamp on her father’s office. It’s still polished and masculine in here. Someone, a secretary probably, cleared away any files that Archer left open. But his chair remains, his large desk dominates the space, and even his 1980s books on making money are still on the shelves. Large dark blue curtains hang at the windows. There’s nothing of Annalise in here.

I told Annalise that I planned to move Gellar Industries into new offices in my building. Could she just be waiting for me to make the move?

The door swings open, and Annalise stands there. Her beautiful curls spill from her face like a burst of honeyed sunshine. I look down at the rest of her and frown as I take in her conservative pantsuit. This is a far cry from the elegant ensembles I had picked out just for her.

She's still pretty, but her dowdy pantsuit hides the svelte curves that her new wardrobe emphasizes so well. Not to mention that I’m pretty sure Annalise’s color is gold, not this awful beige shade that she’s currently wearing.

"Annalise. Is there a reason you're dressed like that?"

She looks down and rolls her eyes, a hint of defiance sparkling in their depths. "My mother visited me last night. After she left, I realized that she ransacked my wardrobe. This is the best of what she left intact."

I can't help but snort. Monique Gellar, always the meddling presence.

"That’s an unpleasant surprise," I say, pulling out my phone. My fingers fly over the screen, texting my personal assistant for help. As I slip the phone back into my pocket, I can't help but think how infuriatingly attractive she looks in that outdated outfit.

“It’s not the only thing my mom dropped in my lap. She called a fucking emergency board meeting behind my back.” She shakes her head, a strand of golden hair falling into her eyes.

"An emergency meeting?" I raise an eyebrow. "Why did she call it?"

"My mother thinks that I should not be running this business. If she had things her way, I would be meeting her friends’ eligible sons, not trying to turn this company around."

I let out a low growl. My temper erupts at the thought of Monique trying to control Annalise. Annalise is more than capable of making her own decisions.

Annalise puts up a hand to stop my protests. “I know! I know. Honestly? My mom doesn’t have a great grasp on reality in general. But especially not about her role in my life and my career. It’s kind of sad.”

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