Only on His Terms

And when had he become such a raging poet? he asked himself. Golden autumn sunset? Breath of sorcery? What the hell kind of thoughts were those to have about a woman who had robbed his family of their rightful legacy? What the hell kind of thoughts were those for a man to have, period? Where the hell had his testosterone got to?

On the other hand, he was beginning to see how his father had been taken in by her. Obviously, she was the kind of grifter who got better results as a vestal virgin than a blonde bombshell. Harrison had almost fallen into her trap himself.

It didn’t matter how she’d conned his father. What mattered was that she’d swindled one of the last century’s most savvy businessmen and convinced him to turn his back on everyone and everything he’d loved in life. Well, as far as his father could have loved anyone or anything—other than his fortune, his commercial holdings and his social standing. But then, what else was there to love? Money, power and position were the only things a person could count on. Or, at least, they had been, before everything went to hell, thanks to this, this...

Harrison took a step backward, and met Grace Sumner’s gaze coolly. “You’re the trashy, scheming, manipulative gold digger?” he asked. Then, because something in her expression looked genuinely wounded by the comment—wow, she really was good—he tempered it by adding, “I thought you’d be taller.”

She mustered a smile he would have sworn was filled with anxiety if he hadn’t known she was a woman who made her way in the world by conning people. “Well, I guess zero out of five isn’t bad.”

Harrison opened his mouth to say something else, but Bennett Tarrant—another thorn in the Sage family’s side for the last two years—appeared next to Gracie, as if conjured by one of her magic spells.

“I see you’ve met Mr. Sage,” he said unnecessarily.

“Yep,” Grace said, her gaze never leaving Harrison’s.

Tarrant turned to Harrison. “And I see you’ve met Miss Sumner.”

“Yep,” Harrison said, his gaze never leaving Grace’s.

The silence that ensued was thick enough to hack with a meat cleaver. Until Tarrant said, “We should head for our seats. We’ll be starting shortly.”

Instead of doing as Tarrant instructed, Harrison found it impossible to move his feet—or remove his gaze from Grace Sumner. Damn. She really was some kind of enchantress.

In an effort to make himself move away, he reminded himself of everything he and his mother had been through since his father’s disappearance fifteen years ago. And he reminded himself how his mother would be left with nothing, thanks to this woman who had, by sheer, dumb luck, stumbled onto an opportunity to bleed the last drop out of a rich, feeble-minded old man.

Fifteen years ago—half a lifetime—Harrison had gone down to breakfast to find his parents seated, as they always were, at a dining-room table capable of seating twenty-two people. But instead of sitting side by side, they sat at each end, as far apart as possible. As usual, his father had had his nose buried in the Wall Street Journal while his mother had been flipping through the pages of a program for Milan Fashion Week. Or maybe Paris Fashion Week. Or London Fashion Week. Or, hell, Lickspittle, Idaho, Fashion Week for all he knew. So he’d taken his regular place at the table midway between them, ensuring that none of them was close enough to speak to the others. It was, after all, a Sage family tradition to not speak to each other.

They’d eaten in silence until their butler entered with his daily reminder that his father’s car had arrived to take him to work, his mother’s car had arrived to take her shopping and Harrison’s car had arrived to take him to school. All three Sages had then risen and made their way to their destinations, none saying a word of farewell—just as they had every morning. Had Harrison realized then that that would be the last time he ever saw his father, he might have...

What? he asked himself. Told him to have a nice day? Given him a hug? Said, “I love you”? He wasn’t sure he’d even known how to do any of those things when he was fifteen. He wasn’t sure he knew how to do any of them now. But he might at least have told his father...something.

He tamped down a wave of irritation. He just wished he and his father had talked more. Or at all. But that was kind of hard to do when the father spent 90 percent of his time at work and the son spent 90 percent of his time in trouble. Because Harrison remembered something else about that day. The night before his father took off, Harrison had come home in the backseat of a squad car, because he’d been caught helping himself to a couple of porno magazines and a bottle of malt liquor at a midtown bodega.

Five months after his father’s disappearance had come the news from one of the family’s attorneys that he had been found, but that he had no intention of coming home just yet. Oh, he would stay in touch with one of his attorneys and a couple of business associates, to make sure the running of Sage Holdings, Inc. continued at its usual pace and to keep himself from being declared legally dead. But he wouldn’t return to his work life—or his home life—anytime soon. To those few with whom he stayed in contact he paid a bundle to never reveal his whereabouts. He’d come back when he felt like it, he said. And then he never came back at all.

Harrison looked at Grace Sumner again, at the deceptively beautiful face and the limitless dark eyes. Maybe two judges had decided she was entitled to the personal fortune his father had left behind. But there was no way Harrison was going down without a fight. He would prove once and for all, unequivocally, that she wasn’t entitled to a cent. He’d been so sure the appeals court would side with the family that he hadn’t felt it necessary to play his full hand. Until now. And now...

Soon everyone would know that the last thing Grace Sumner was was a fey, unearthly creature. In fact, she was right at home in this den of trolls.

* * *

Gracie wanted very much to say something to Harry’s son before leaving with Mr. Tarrant. But his expression had gone so chilly, she feared anything she offered by way of an explanation or condolences would go unheard. Still, she couldn’t just walk away. The man had lost his father—twice—and had no chance to make amends at this point. His family’s life had been turned upside down because of Harry’s last wishes and what he’d asked her to do with his fortune. She supposed she couldn’t blame Harrison III for the cool reception.

Nevertheless, she braved a small smile and told him, “I doubt you’ll believe me, but it was nice to meet you, Mr. Sage. I’m so sorry about your father. He was the kindest, most decent man I ever met.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned to follow Mr. Tarrant to the other side of the room, where chairs had been set up for everyone affected by Harry’s will. They were arranged in two arcs that faced each other, with a big-screen TV on one side. She seated herself between Mr. Tarrant and two attorneys from his firm, almost as if the three of them were circling the wagons to protect her.

Gus Fiver, the second in command at Tarrant, Fiver & Twigg, looked to be in his midthirties and was as fair and amiable as Harrison Sage was dark and moody—though Gus’s pinstripes looked to be every bit as expensive. Renny Twigg, whom Mr. Tarrant had introduced as one of their associates—her father was the Twigg in the company’s name—was closer in age to Gracie’s twenty-six. Renny was a petite brunette who didn’t seem quite as comfortable in her own pinstripes. Even with her tidy chignon and perfectly manicured hands, she looked like the kind of woman who would be happier working outdoors, preferably at a job that involved wearing flannel.

Everyone else in the room was either connected to Harry in some way or an attorney representing someone’s interests. Seated directly across from Gracie—naturally—were Harry’s surviving family members and their attorneys. In addition to Harrison Sage III, there was his mother and Harry’s widow, Vivian Sage, not to mention a veritable stable of ex-wives and mistresses and a half-dozen additional children—three of whom were even legitimate. As far as professional interests went, Harry had had conglomerates and corporations by the boatload. Add them together, and it totaled a financial legacy of epic proportion. Nearly all of what hadn’t gone back to the businesses was now legally Gracie’s. Harry had left a little to a handful of other people, but the rest of his fortune—every brick, byte and buck—had gone to her.

Oh, where was a paper bag for hyperventilating into when she needed it?

Once everyone was seated and silent, Bennett Tarrant rose to address the crowd. “Thank you all for coming. This meeting is just a formality, since Mr. Sage’s estate has been settled by the court, and—”

“Settled doesn’t mean the ruling can’t be appealed,” Harrison Sage interrupted, his voice booming enough to make Gracie flinch. “And we plan to file within the next two weeks.”

“I can’t imagine how that’s necessary,” Mr. Tarrant said. “An appeal has already supported the court’s initial ruling in Miss Sumner’s favor. Unless some new information comes to light, any additional appeal will only uphold those rulings.”

Harrison opened his mouth to say more, but his attorney, a man of Mr. Tarrant’s age and demeanor, placed a hand lightly on his arm to halt him. “New information will come to light,” the man said.

Mr. Tarrant looked in no way concerned. “Mr. Landis, it has been twice determined that Harrison Sage, Jr., was of sound mind and body when he left the bulk of his personal estate to Grace Sumner. Another appeal would be—”

“Actually, we’ll disprove that this time,” Mr. Landis stated unequivocally. “And we will prove that not only did Grace Sumner exert undue influence over Mr. Sage of a sexual nature, but that—”

“What?” This time Gracie was the one to interrupt.

Mr. Landis ignored her, but she could practically feel the heat of Harrison Sage’s gaze.

Mr. Landis continued, “We’ll prove that not only did Grace Sumner exert undue influence over Mr. Sage of a sexual nature, but that he contracted a sexually transmitted disease from her which rendered him mentally incapacitated.”

“What?” Gracie erupted even more loudly.

She started to rise from her chair, but Gus Fiver gently covered her shoulder with his hand, willing her to ignore the allegation. With much reluctance, Gracie made herself relax. But if looks could kill, the one she shot Harrison Sage would have rendered him a pile of ash.

Especially after his attorney concluded, “She used sex to seduce and further incapacitate an already fragile old man, and then took advantage of his diminished state to convince him to leave his money and assets to her. We’re hiring a private investigator to gather the necessary evidence, since this is something that has only recently come to light.”

“I see,” Mr. Tarrant replied. “Or perhaps it’s something you’ve pulled out of thin air in a vain last-ditch effort.”

Unbelievable, Gracie thought. Even if she’d known Harry was worth a bundle, she never would have taken advantage of him. And she certainly wouldn’t have used her alleged sexual wiles, since she didn’t even have a sexual wile, never mind sexual wiles, plural. True friendship was worth way more than money and was a lot harder to find. And incapacitated? Diminished? Harry? Please. He’d been full of piss and vinegar until the minute that damned aneurysm brought him down.

Mr. Tarrant met the other attorney’s gaze levelly. “Harrison Sage, Jr. changed his will in person, in the office of his attorneys, two of whom are seated in this room. And he presented to them not only a document from his physician stating his excellent health, both mental and physical, but his physician was also present to bear witness in that office. Your father’s intent was crystal clear. He wished for Grace Sumner to inherit the bulk of his personal estate. Two judges have agreed. Therefore Miss Sumner does inherit the bulk of his personal estate.

“Now then,” he continued, “on the day he amended his will for the last time, Mr. Sage also made a video at his attorneys’ office that he wanted Miss Sumner and his family and associates, along with their representatives, to view. Renny, do you mind?”

Renny Twigg aimed a remote at the TV. A second later, Harry’s face appeared on the screen, and Gracie’s stomach dropped. He looked nothing like the Harry she remembered. He was wearing a suit and tie not unlike the other power suits in the room, a garment completely at odds with the wrinkled khakis and sweatshirts he’d always worn in Cincinnati. His normally untidy hair had been cut and styled by a pro. His expression was stern, and his eyes were flinty. He looked like a billionaire corporate mogul—humorless, ruthless and mean. Then he smiled his Santa Claus smile and winked, and she knew this was indeed the Harry she had known and loved. Suddenly, she felt much better.

“Hey there, Gracie,” he said in the same playful voice with which he’d always greeted her. “I’m sorry we’re meeting like this, kiddo, because it means I’m dead.”

Unbidden tears pricked Gracie’s eyes. She really did miss Harry. He was the best friend she’d ever had. Without thinking, she murmured, “Hi, Harry.”

Every eye in the room fell upon her, but Gracie didn’t care. Let them think she was a lunatic, talking to someone on a TV screen. In that moment, it felt as if Harry were right there with her. And it had been a long time since she’d been able to talk to him.

“And if you’re watching this,” he continued, “it also means you know the truth about who I really am, and that you’re having to share a room with members of my original tribe. I know from experience what a pain in the ass that can be, so I’ll keep this as brief as I can. Here’s the deal, kiddo. I hope it didn’t scare the hell out of you when you heard how much I left you. I’m sorry I never told you the truth about myself when I was alive. But by the time I met you, I was way more Harry Sagalowsky than I was Harrison Sage, so I wasn’t really lying. You wouldn’t have liked Harrison, anyway. He was a prick.”

At this, Gracie laughed out loud. It was just such a Harry thing to say. When she felt eyes on her again, she bit her lip to stifle any further inappropriate outbursts. Inappropriate to those in the room, anyway. Harry wouldn’t have minded her reaction at all.

He continued, “That’s why I wanted to stop being Harrison. One day, I realized just how far I’d gotten from my roots, and how much of myself I’d lost along the way. People love rags-to-riches stories like mine, but those stories never mention all the sacrifices you have to make while you’re clawing for those riches, and how a lot of those sacrifices are of your morals, your ethics and your character.”