Fifth Avenue Devil

Chapter 4

Four

Annalise

M y mother cuts her eyes at me as we climb the black marble stairs to the charity gala. "I wish you would have worn the outfit I laid out for you. It was classy."

"It was one of your old dresses, Mom. It has a high neck, long sleeves, and is ballroom length. It was clearly meant for a sixty-five-year-old."

She points her chin toward the top of the staircase. Her lips harden into a thin line. "Look at what you're wearing. It's disgraceful."

I glance down at the silver bodycon dress that I chose instead. It is a little short, as it ends midthigh. But it doesn't show too much cleavage. It has a pretty daringly low-cut back, but that's about it.

God, I have to get out from Mom’s thumb. I can’t stand the amount of control she has over me, even now.

Before I can say anything in my own defense, we hit the top of the stairs. As soon as we do, my mom sees a cluster of her friends gathered near the doorway leading into the ballroom. Their heads are bowed together, and they are all obviously gossiping about some poor girl's dress.

Mom grabs me by the arm and starts marching us toward the group of backstabbing snakes. But I yank myself free.

"Let me go!" I hiss. "People are going to talk if they don't see me mingling. I'm the CEO of Gellar Industries now. There are lots of business opportunities in this room."

My mom recoils as if I just splashed her with a bucket of ice water. "Just another reason why you shouldn't be CEO. You should be more concerned about finding the right husband than the day-to-day performance of our company's stock."

I summon my nerve and smile at her. "Dad named me his successor and you don't have a single word of say over any of it. I'm twenty-four years old, Mom. I'm my own person. Deal with it."

My mom glowers at me. But I turn on my heel and flounce into the ballroom, unaccompanied. As I walk through the crowd of men in their penguin suits and women in their glittering jewelry and slinky gowns, I suck in a breath. Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, I drink it in three huge gulps.

Despite what I just told my mom, I’m little scared to be on my own out here. I feel like everyone is sizing me up, comparing me to my father as CEO, and then dismissing me.

"Miss Gellar?" a cultured, older man asks. I peg him as one of the people who were sizing me up.

"That's me!" I say, forcing myself to sound cheerful.

His brows rise, but he extends his hand. "Herbert Gimes."

I shake his hand a bit forcefully, feeling the need to overcompensate for my petite size. Herbert's thick, unkempt brows rise again, this time staying up near his hairline.

"Mr. Gimes. How do you do?"

He takes his hand back with a small smile. "Very well, Miss Gellar. It's good to see you out and about representing your company tonight."

"Yes, er." I rack my brain for a memory of Mr. Gimes. "Are you a friend of my father's?"

An off put expression flashes over his face.

"I should say so, Miss Gellar. I've been a member of Gellar Industries' Board of Trustees for fifteen years. I count your father amongst my closest friends." He rubs his jaw. "I made the initial motion during your swearing in before the board two weeks ago?"

He says the last as if I ought to remember him. And perhaps he is right. But honestly, I was so nervous that day that I spent it sweating and silently shaking, in shock over the fact that my father would put me up as his heir. As opposed to Don Young or even my mother.

Though I don’t feel sorry, I smile apologetically, deciding to bluff my way through the conversation. "Oh, Gimes! I thought you said... Grimes! And I have a little bit of face blindness. It's a condition that comes and goes. I apologize."

He blinks. "Well... I guess... that's all right, then."

I put my hand on his tux sleeve. "Thanks, Mr. Gimes."

Herbert is quick to move back a step, giving me a distrustful look. "Miss Gellar, I hardly think that touching is appropriate here. One would think that you're coming on to me if one did not know that I am merely your father's best friend."

His accusation blows my hair back. I barely touched his arm! What the hell?

"I don’t understand." I back away a step. "Why would you say that?"

"Because!" Herbert looks me up and down. "Look at yourself, Miss Gellar. You're a female, you're dressed provocatively, you're touching me?—"

I shake my head, as confused as ever. "I'm just trying to imitate how I've seen my mother and father act. They are both so stiff and formal, surely they can't be acting in a way that you would find... unbecoming."

Mr. Gimes shoves his hands into his pants’ pockets and gives me a long look. "They aren't a young, available woman, Miss Gellar."

I literally don't know what to say. I whisper sorry to Mr. Gimes, then whirl around and hunt for somewhere to cool down. I notice several doors leading to the outside. Turning my shoulder to cut through the crowd, I reach the exit and push on the glass door. The chilly air hits my whole body the second I step outside.

Brr. I pull my cashmere wrap closer around my shoulders as I look around the terrace that I've stepped onto. The night is too dark to make out much beyond the vague impression of bushes past the stone railing. As I walk out onto the flat flagstones, my steps sound like muffled gunshots.

I pause, startled at the sound. Of course, the noise dies when my footsteps cease.

I give a nervous laugh just as I hear the door opening behind me. Because I am already on edge, I jump and spin around, my heart pounding, ready to ward off any evildoers. Standing there, bathed in the single spotlight on the terrace, is a man unlike any other I’ve ever seen.

The man before me looks handsome as an angel, with a little smirk on his lips and his dark hair ruffling gently in the slight breeze. But this is no innocent man.

"Mr. Fordham!" The words are pulled from my lungs, a protest.

His dark eyes sparkle with mischief. "Annalise Gellar. I believe we've been introduced once or twice."

I feel my cheeks heat, though I don't know why.

"At some point," I say quietly. "Before you made a bet that gave my father a stroke, that is."

He frowns. "That's unfair."

He strolls toward me, his expression what I imagine a tiger’s prey might see just before its gory death.

Nate Fordham is intimidatingly tall, dressed in a tuxedo that fits him like a glove. His collar is unbuttoned, tie askew. I glance at the patch of smooth, dark skin and a light dusting of hair. Something glints in the faint light.

"Are you all right?" he asks, tilting his head a few degrees.

Although I don't want them to, I can feel my cheeks heat again. "I'm fine." I wrap my arms across my chest and shoot him a glare. "Why are you out here? There's no one else to talk to on this terrace."

Nate takes another step toward me. Just what the hell is he doing?

"That's all right. I came out here to find you, Annalise."

"Me?" I try not to appear startled. The breeze starts up again and I catch a whiff of his cologne.

"Yes, you. You sound surprised."

"I'm just cautious with men I don't have any reason to know."

The smirk appears on his face again. "You have every reason to know me. Your father wagered a merger between our businesses. And I am here to collect it."

His assertion is so absurd that I can't help the laugh that slips out of my mouth. "You're crazy. No one in their right mind would think that winning a merger in a poker bet would stand up in court."

Nate puts his hands behind his back and studies me like I'm a curious insect that he's about to squash.

"My lawyers would be happy to sue your company. They are a vicious pack of thieves and liars and they're busily sharpening their knives, readying for their next victim."

I roll my eyes. "That's a horrible way to describe the people you employ."

He brushes that fact away with a sweep of his hand. His fingers are quite long. Pairs with being tall, I suppose.

I ball my face up. "So, you're actually here to claim that you have justification to force my company to merge with yours?"

He considers my words for several moments.

"Yes, I believe so. When your father said that he would step aside and name a successor, I imagined it would be someone... well... older. Someone who had run a company before, at least. But instead, I got Archer Gellar's daughter." His lips twist as if he's considering something humorous. "I'm trying to decide whether Archer was joking or high when he named you as his heir."

I bristle. "You really are a prick. Just so you know, my father named me as heir in secret six months ago. I found out about it when the rest of the world did.”

"Come on. You have to be as confused as everyone else." He pauses, thoughtful. "Are you sure you're not in on it together somehow?"

My hands drop to my sides and ball into fists. "You know what, Mr. Fordham? You really are the worst. A no good, no account... scuzzball."

He smiles at me without a trace of warmth, showcasing a dazzling set of perfect teeth. "And you are Daddy's little girl, throwing a fit and messing up what would otherwise be business conducted between grown-ups! But you don't see me rubbing that in your face now, do you?"

What? Is this guy serious? No wonder my dad nursed a grudge against him for fifteen years. Nate Fordham is a complete tool!

My rage is near the boiling point. "That's it! I've had enough of this. I don't have to stand here and be insulted!" I stalk to the door.

Nate is lightning fast, whipping his hand out to catch my arm.

My mouth drops open. I stare at him, dumbfounded. Just who the hell does this guy think he is?

Nate pulls me close, his eyes flashing a warning. "Don't be a brat, Annalise," he hisses.

"Let me go!" I try to pull out of his grip, but he clasps me even more tightly. I can feel the delicate skin on my upper forearm throbbing in the shape of his big hand.

"If you don't agree to this merger, I will execute a hostile takeover of your board and then buy your little company. Do yourself a favor and just give in. It'll be quick and painless."

I clench my teeth. "Over my dead body."

"You have no idea who you're playing with, little girl."

Mustering all my energy, I break free and run for the terrace doors.