Page 92 of Beautiful Revenge
But given the fact my ex-fiancé planned to off me on our honeymoon, and my stepmother has been paying a private medical staff to drug my father into an induced coma, pleasing people is the least of my worries.
We’re soaring above middle America. Devon has been tapping away at his laptop, and I’ve been a nervous wreck. My cell vibrates on the sofa next to me. My insides tighten, and I answer immediately.
“What’s wrong? Is Dad okay?” I demand.
When it comes to me and Chrissie, I’m usually the voice of reason. She said I pay her to be the ballbuster and pave the way for me. Really, I think she loves it.
So when her tone comes across hesitant, I freak out even more. “No, he’s fine. I swear. I actually think he’s getting better by the hour. He’s eating Jello as we speak. He demanded a ribeye, and the nurse actually laughed at him. Not many people intimidate me, but I’m not stupid and understand the pecking order at Stonebridge. I almost tackled that nurse to the ground and ordered him a steak.”
I exhale and rest my head on Devon’s shoulder. “That’s good he’s feeling more like himself. Still, make him eat the Jello.”
“This is the least of my problems, Harlow,” Chrissie hisses. “We have another issue. Janie got hold of Allen and told him that you moved your father without her permission. Now he’s on my ass to know where his boss is.”
I’m not relaxed anymore. Allen Foster is my father’s executive vice president. He worked his way up through Stonebridge, has worked alongside my father for two decades, knows the business inside and out.
Not only is he the VP, but he’s also my father’s right-hand man. He’s no nonsense and gets shit done, which is all my father cares about. He’s intimidating, doesn’t care who he crosses, and is willing to leave a wake of destruction in his path.
Chrissie might be willing to lay down a fight for me, but Allen doesn’t have to when it comes to my dad. What he says, goes.
With everyone but me, that is.
When it comes to Allen, I may as well be a petulant teenager again. I don’t like him and never have. He’s made it clear he hates the Effie Foundation and has fought tooth and nail to cut it back so far, it would be practically nonexistent. It’s the only thing he and my father disagree on. He wants the foundation to donate the bare minimum to benefit from the press.
I have no issue going head-to-head with him.
Chrissie continues to stress. “I lied and said I don’t know anything, but Allen proceeded to call me on my bullshit since he knows you and I are tighter than blood. I took his berating and made a lame excuse to say goodbye instead of hanging up on him. He’s called me back three times. I feel the stresslines setting in prematurely between my brows every time I send him to voicemail. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Do you know where Janie is?” I ask.
“Why does that matter?” Chrissie rattles off. “Nothing matters but Allen Foster ripping me a new one and taking up residence in my voicemail box.”
“Do not take his calls,” I order as Devon gives me a quizzical look. I shake him off and focus on talking Chrissie off her stress ledge. “He’s not calling me because he knows he can’t bully me the way he can everyone else. I’ll make some calls. You’re doing the right thing. Your only job until I get there is to make sure my father follows doctor’s orders, and do not order him a steak—not even a burger.”
Chrissie’s anxiety bleeds through the line. “I can’t wait for you to get here. Kidnapping your father from his own home and moving him two hours away was easy peasy. Dealing with Foster will do me in. I’m not cut out for this.”
“I’ll call him now. He won’t bother you anymore. We’ll be there soon. I can’t wait to see you.”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you. And I can’t wait to see you too. There will be a car waiting when you land.”
“See you then.”
I hang up and turn to Devon. “I need to make a quick call, and it won’t be a fun one. My father’s executive VP is an absolute shark, but he upset Chrissie. I don’t let anyone do that.”
Devon shuts his laptop and wraps his hand around the top of my thigh. “Then this demands my full attention.”
I roll my eyes and press go on the number I rarely call. It barely rings once when the grating voice of my father’s right-hand man verbally attacks me.
“You have some nerve, Harlow. Janie told me what you did. First, you create that spectacle of a wedding, and then you move your father on his deathbed without telling his wife or anyone at Stonebridge. Not only are you a PR nightmare, but you’re also putting our stockholders’ investments at risk. Where the hell is Patrick so I can get this shit straightened out, dammit.”
At the mention of my stepmother, anger bubbles withinme. I ignore every accusation and do what I need to do. “If you have a problem with me, call me. If you contact my assistant again, we’ll have issues. Chrissie works for me and the foundation. She doesn’t answer to anyone else. It’s harassment. If it continues, I’ll report you myself.”
“Harassment?” he bellows so loudly I have to hold the phone from my ear.
Devon’s grip on my thigh tightens.
Allen continues to roar, “You have the nerve to call me out for harassment when you have no legal right to move your father or make decisions about his care. If you want to start calling reporting shit, I’ll be right on your heels. I’ve been the one managing this crisis while Patrick has been incapacitated. I’m the one managing the business and making sure our valuations don’t fucking tank. The only reason you have money to throw out the window is because of me. And now you’re threatening Janie and me? You’re treading in dangerous waters, Harlow. Tell me where the fuck your father is.”
“You sound...” I pause as I take in Allen’s anger. I’m accustomed to him commanding attention, but not like this. He also never gives Janie any credence whatsoever. “Desperate.”
