Page 124 of All Twerk, No Play

And I knew why he was here. My world was about to crumble, and I didn’t want to face it alone.

“Alex,” I gasped, reaching for my phone to manage the cloying urge to escape another second alone with him.

“Wait, Victoria—” Dad said, but I’d already pressed Alex’s extension.

“Hey, I was thinking about lunch. Should we order sushi or—”

“Arthur Blackstone is here to see us,” I choked out. “Let’s convene in the conference room.”

Guiding Dad in our cozy conference room instead of the rosewood table in Sinclair Larsson’s glass-walled skyscraper, I felt like I’d been playing business and now the real boss would show me how it’s done. After asking Connor to bring him an Americano, I half-sprinted to Alexander’s office and let him see my panic.

Alex placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Nothing he can say will change our partnership. If we hate why he’s here, we’ll tell him to go fuck himself. Ok, Tori?” I felt my breathing slow. “And if he won’t leave, we’ll call your boyfriend to kick him out.” I grinned, finally, feeling my shoulders relax at just the mention of Cruz.

Alex and I walked in together. I cleared my throat and held out my hand. “Mr. Blackstone.”

He blinked once with a soft expression that said, ‘Ok, so that’s how you want to play it,’ then shook my hand firmly before I settled into the head of the table. Alexander shook his hand, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and sat on the long side of the table beside Connor while Dad sat on the opposite side,

I folded my hands with a tight smile. “Since you didn’t make an appointment, we’ll have to keep this brief. How can we help you?”

Dad’s lips thinned. “I’d prefer that we speak in private, Victoria.”

“Anything you say to me, you can say in front of them,” I said, nodding my head to the two men whose success was intricately linked with mine.

Dad leaned forward, waiting for all of our attention. The moment stretched like the saltwater taffy we used to share on Hampton Beach Boardwalk—his chocolate, mine watermelon, and a vanilla split between us.

“Richard passed away yesterday morning.”

The breath went out of my lungs. I tapped my fingertips against my lips to prevent the groan that was clawing up my throat. Clinging to one final moment of denial, I asked coldly, “And what, you want me to deliver his eulogy?”

“Victoria Sinclair Blackstone,” Dad reprimanded with that curt tone he’d used when I refused to clean my room. “He’s leaving you everything.”

The room spun. Possibly the axis of the world shifted.

My mouth opened, but all that emerged was a gasping breath as I remembered Richard’s words:If you see Victoria, tell her I hope she got everything she wanted.

I thought he’d been talking about the townhouse.

“All his properties?” I asked, pleading for Dad to assure me this was just about real estate. I could sell real estate.

“He included a clause that you allow Beverly to stay in the Hamptons estate, but the property remains in your name.”

I nodded and whispered, “Is that all?”

“The corporation. All his shares of Sinclair Larsson.”

“No,” I breathed. The only word I could form.

For my whole childhood, I’d wanted nothing more than to be at the helm of his company. Ever since I left, it felt like a lodestone around my neck. Finally, now, the weight was dragging me down.

Dad smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “Richard always thought you were the bright future of Sinclair Larsson. Now you own your shares plus his sixty percent.”

Seventy-two point seven percent, I calculated.Majority shareholder.

“Then I can sell it,” I said firmly, even knowing the unlikelihood of Richard’s estate allowing that. He’d hoarded his shares like a dragon protecting its gold.

“You wouldn’t,” Dad said. My stomach lurched with defiance, and I lifted my chin. Dad shook his head in disappointment. “There are consequences in the event of your noncompliance, though he didn’t believe it would come to that. He wanted you to be the owner and CEO.”

I blinked rapidly, but couldn’t stop the tears from forming. “He disowned me.”

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