Page 9 of Vicious Arrangement
“Conditions?” I repeat. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“This is why I called this meeting, Noah.” Peter sighs. “In order for you to be more than CEO, to gain control and your grandfather’s controlling shares, to be president of Templeton Properties, and of course have Oscar’s full fortune—it’s billions—you need to do one of two things.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, trying to keep the snarl from my voice. The money is mine. It’s my parents’ money, my inheritance, the fortune I deserve to add to what I already have. After a life with Grandfather, I fucking deserve it.
“One of two things, Noah,” he repeats. “Go through with the merger?—”
“No.”
“Or you marry, and stay married, to William’s granddaughter.” He flips through some papers to his right. “One Aria Sanderson.”
I laugh like he’s just told me the funniest joke. Because it is a joke… isn’t it? “You’re fucking joking.”
“No, I’m not.”
He slides over a sheet of paper with my grandfather’s signature on it and it’s real. All of it.
The fucker wanted to make sure I went through with the merger.
It’s a fuck you to my thoughts, my advice, my knowledge, all the way from beyond the grave.
“Here’s William’s number. Work it out, let me know, and tomorrow you need to be the CEO your grandfather raised you to be. And make the right decision. Don’t blow this, Noah. Billions are at stake.”
I nod tersely and leave. I don’t go to the office. I go fucking home.
Once there, I rip off my tie and drink from the bottle. It’s reckless and stupid, but I’m not planning on a repeat of last night. I just need…
I need something.
Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting someone else slide into the president slot. And there’s no way I’m letting billions go.
It’ll also be an ice age in hell before I let this merger happen.
I take another swig, then set the bottle down on the kitchen counter and cross to the great room, sinking into one of the cream leather sofas.
“Well, Noah, I guess you’re getting married.”
There’s no way I’m chasing this fucking girl down, or anything else. I’ll meet her, and then I’ll meet her again at the wedding. Something small and quick.
The anger still sparks and pops in my veins, and I find the card Peter gave me and I call fucking William Sanderson.
“Sanderson.”
I grip my cell tight. “It’s Noah Templeton. You need to convince your granddaughter, Aria, to marry me. Or I’ll destroy your company.”
Chapter Three
ARIA
As I leaveQuentin Memorial Hospital, scrubs off and jeans, T-shirt and hoodie on, I try not to let the moans of my colleagues about bills, rent and student loans weigh down on me.
I have them, too.
It’s just I don’t pay rent.
Not much, anyway, one of the perks, I suppose, of having a grandfather who has his own property development firm. I’m making a mental list of things I need to do, including food for Angus when my phone vibrates.
I pop my earbud in and answer. “Gramps,” I say, delight threading through my voice, even as I ignore that tiny little twinge of unease I get whenever he calls out of the blue.
