Page 80 of Savage Suit
I opened my mouth to speak, although I wasn’t sure what I’d say. Reid, however, must’ve seen something in my face and decided I needed more convincing. He forged on, his words quick and desperate.
“Aunt Réjane and Noah were close. He was supposed to go on a business trip with her, but was sick, so she went alone. When he developed a high fever, she left early. Her plane crashed. Noah blamed himself. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven himself. There’s so much—” He ran his fingers through his hair, then stepped closer to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “Ryan, please, listen to me. No one knows this, except Noah, my father, and me. His parents took this secret to their graves.”
As Reid told me the details of Noah’s mother’s heart attack and how his siblings blamed Noah for her death, it all suddenly clicked for me. His attitudes about women in the workplace. The need to protect cloaked in a mantle of chauvinism. He could’ve revealed all the dirty secrets and lies that had shaped him to become the man he was today. His mother had proof in documents, photos, and secret recordings she’d turned over to her brother-in-law. Reid’s father had informed Noah about the wealth of evidence after Shawn Keegan’s death. Instead of exposing his family’s secrets, he allowed the world to think the worst of him.
“He needs you,” Reid repeated. “He thinks my father had everything destroyed, but he kept them on hand. Unlike Noah, who destroyed Uncle Shawn’s journals.”
“Why? To blackmail him? If Noah wanted them destroyed, his orders should’ve been followed.”
“He has no intention of using them against Noah, Ryan, so that isn’t important. If you walk away, Noah’s reputation will never recover. What his mother sacrificed, whathesacrificed, will crash and burn. These are serious allegations. We’re open to lawsuits, fines, and devalued stock.”
“Noah knows this,” Quinn hissed. “Why should the onus of saving him be on my sister’s shoulders?”
We both ignored her.
“My sister stays and is welcomed here anytime,” I said, my tone brooking no room to negotiate.
Reid nodded. “Anything you want is yours.”
I snorted and told him about Billy. “I think you’re sincere, even if the driving force behind the offer is still Noah.”
“You know what my sister wants?” Quinn inserted. “That bitch let go.”
Although Reid stood in front of us and blocked our line of vision, Quinn still nodded in the general direction of Megan. Because she’d sat on the opposite side of Tina and Nicholas, when my sister tipped her head that way, I knew who she meant.
“Is that what you want?” Reid asked, his eyes grave.
“Fuck yeah,” Quinn answered for me.
I wanted Megan gone more than anything. Yet, I shook my head. “It still won’t help the company if one of its female executives is let go, while I’m being paraded in front of cameras as a counter to the article.”
Releasing a sigh as his shoulders relaxed, he nodded. “Then you must play nice with her. Noah thinks he’s left you in excellent hands. None of us wishes to incur his wrath. Discovering Megan’s treatment of you would be seen as a betrayal. She’d be lucky to get a job attending to sewers.”
“Okay.” I sighed, trying to ignore my growing disillusion. When reality crushed expectation, it fucked with your head. “I’ve been trying to play nice.”
“I know—”
“What the hell did she do to you?” Quinn interrupted Reid.
“It’s silly,” I mumbled, then launched into how she’d criticized me inside and out, up and down, and all around.
“Are you kidding me? Hello? We have a sister named Armani and a brother-in-law who should have his mouth sewn shut. You handle them well.”
“I don’t have to see them every day,” I reminded her. “Nor do they remind me what’ll happen if I don’t do exactly what is expected of me.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Let’s ask a connoisseur of women.” She smirked at Reid. “Love, do you find anything wrong with my sister’s attire? To me, she looks the ultimate businesswoman.”
“She does,” Reid agreed. “There could be some changes, though.”
“Right. I’ll practice my speech, then we can give me a makeover. I wonder if there’s enough time to flatiron my hair.”
Reid and Quinn exchanged a look.
“No,” she said decisively. “You have gorgeous curls. Celebrate them.”
The outfits Celine the stylist brought for me were singularly horrible. Undoubtedly expensive and from world-famous designers, the styles turned me off. Further proof Megan wanted to sabotage me. Dresses with voluminous pleated skirts, balloon sleeves and collars, shared space with too long trousers paired with oversized jackets in shades of blue and gray. Minutes were flying by, so I didn’t have time to stay in my feelings.
Just as I was about to choose a navy dress with shoulder pads, puffed sleeves, and a skirt that hadn’t wasted material even a scrap of material, a royal purple tuxedo mini dress caught my eye. It was the last one on the rack. If they had shoved the other outfits against it, I never would’ve seen it.
