Page 52 of Christmas in Vines

“…Getting revenge on your ex-girlfriend is not the only applicable motif here,” the man said. “My brother has been screwing me over for years, shutting me out of managerial decisions and ignoring my ideas. Ideas that would have made us take over the Sullivans and the fucking Vegas years ago. Now though, he will have no choice but to take the backseat and watch.”

When he clicked that off, the boardroom was silent. Cole cocked his head. “That is not you then?”

Uncle Herman was white while Maxmillian snarled, “How the hell did you get ahold of private conversations—”

“Is a crime, yes,” Cole replied. “Accessing a computer and gaining information is up to a year for the first conviction, I know. However, I did not access your computer or any one of your offices. I only accessed the backdoor of the app you three used to plan your crime and used it against you.

“It is peanuts to what you will serve for security fraud when, by your reasoning to the shareholders who sold out to you, was because you told them the market would take a downturn and the company would fail. That is misinformation, and it is up to ten years in prison if and when a forensic auditor goes through all your files,” Cole said icily.

“Tell me, Winslow, are you willing to change your cushy office for a cushy cell? I mean your lawyer could get finesse some wiggle room and get you out on a technicality, but when word about this gets out, as with the other cemeteries in your closet, you’ll be tanking harder than the Hindenburg.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and when I turned to the lawyers, they didn’t seem to believe it either. Paula, however, was smiling.

Dad turned to Herman who was positively ashen white. “And you? Are you sticking to your story about not knowing what this is?”

Uncle Herman pressed his lips tight and swallowed. “I can explain—”

“You’re fired, effective immediately. And you Winslow—” Dad said quietly while taking the folder from Paula, opening it, and ripping it in half. “—No deal, you can have your money back.”

“What about the shares I bought?” Maxmillian dug in his heels.

“I already enacted the Poison Pill,” Cole said, pinning Winslow with a merciless stare. “You should know what that means.”

Huffing, Maxmillian stood and tugged his jacket down, “I suppose we’re not needed here.”

When they filed out—not without Maxwell giving me a dirty look—Dad turned to Cole and smiled. “You just saved my company.”

Cole swallowed thickly, his gaze skittering to me again. “No offense, Sir, I did it because of Willow. She had told me she’d felt something funny about her uncle and she was right. I—”

I got up from the table, chair screeching and damn well ran out of the boardroom. I couldn’t bear this—I didn’t know what to think about it. I could barely breathe. My feet took me to the women’s restroom and I grabbed on the sink before I collapsed.

What was this? A game? A trick? Who had I fallen in love with? Tyler Burrows or… Or Cole Vega? A man from a family I’d heard were as much dickheads as the Sullivans.

Finding a stool, I sat and hunched over, cradling my face in both hands. My body was flashing hot and cold while my heart was pumping a triple beat. I sucked in a breath and tried to go back to the beginning when Tyler,ColeVega, had walked in.

I’d seen pictures of Cole and his brother before, they were blond—so was his dark hair dyed? Why? Why had he done it? Why had he come to our orchard and picked apples when he was the goddamn angel investor in disguise?

To find a weakness in our business so he would undermine us?

But if that was it… why go through all the pain of finding out about my uncle and Winslow? Why had he done that? I knew I had told him how questionable my uncle was, but digging up the audio of Maxwell and Winslow and exposing them at the very meeting Dad was about to include them, why?

My mind circled back to why he had posed as a transient worker.

The door opened and I looked up to see Cole walk in but didn’t come too close. His hands were fighting a little before he stuck them in his pockets. “I don’t suppose I’m sorry will work?”

I stared at him, a dozen questions running through my mind. What came out of my mouth though was, “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

He nodded, “I know. But I had to find you and try to salvage whatever good grace I may have with you.”

Biting my lip, I sorted through the questions in my head. “Why did you pose as a farmhand? Why did you dye your hair? Was this some kind of Henry The Eighth shit where you came to see what weaknesses my dad’s company has? What was it?”

He leaned on the wall behind him and gave me a wry look. “Believe it or not, I never expected it either. See, I’m a loose cannon, Willow, in my normal day to day life, I-I really don’t give a shit about anything other than having fun and doing some dumb ass shit. I only came to Clarkston Ciders because I’d lost a game of beer pong with my friend, the real Tyler Burrows, and my punishment was to pose as him, picking apples for three weeks.”

I didn’t know what to think about that.

“So, what happened when you—”

“Stopped Maxwell, that asshole?” he said. “I hadn’t planned on that either. That night, I just saw a lady in trouble with a toxic ex and I did what any self-respecting man would do. Granted, I never meant for it to go as it had, but—” he shrugged again. “—loose cannon again.”

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