An Heiress for His Empire

“Jeremy wants his successor to be family.” Hence the marriage. “How old-fashioned.”

“It ensures his grandchildren will inherit his legacy intact.”

“And that’s important.”

“To him.”

The smell of pancakes, fresh bananas and syrup had her mouth watering. “What about you?”

“You need to ask?”

“AIH is your life.” As much as it had always been her father’s.

“Say rather AIH is the vehicle for my own dreams.”

“I didn’t know men like you dreamed.”

“Without visionaries at the helm, companies like AIH would atrophy and eventually die.”

“So, you think my father is just a very dedicated dreamer.” Sarcasm hanging thick from her words, she took a bite of her pancakes and hummed with pleasure.

Vik laughed. “That is one way to put it.”

“And your personal dreams include being president of AIH one day.”

“Yes.”

His easy honesty surprised her and charmed her in a way. She’d always thought of men like him as having goals. Solid, steady, unemotional stepping stones that marked their success.

“Wow. I guess the heart of a Russian really does beat under that American-businessman veneer.”

“My grandparents like to think so.”

She offered him a bite of pancake with a slice of banana. “And your parents?”

Vik took the bite just like he used to and memories of a time when they’d been friends, and all her dreams had centered on this man, assailed Maddie.

“My mother has been out of the picture for all of my memory. My dad is like a computer virus. He keeps coming back.”

She smiled. “I should say I’m sorry, but having a father who drives you nuts makes you more human.”

Vik shrugged, but she couldn’t help wondering if he’d told her about his dad on purpose. To build rapport. She thought Vik had outclassed her dad a long time ago in the manipulation department.

After all, Jeremy Archer still thought he ran AIH. However anyone with a brain—not blinkered by willful blindness—and access to the company would realize it was actually Vik’s show and had been for a few years.

“Whose idea was it to offer Steven Whitley and Brian Jones up on the chopping block?”

“It’s hardly a sacrifice to be offered this kind of opportunity.” Vik drank his coffee, his expression sincere if she could believe it.

But then what was to say she couldn’t?

“Marriage to the prodigal daughter for an eventual company presidency?” That might well be worth it to a man like Vik.

“You don’t exactly fit the distinction of prodigal.”

“Don’t I?”

“You haven’t blown through your inheritance. In fact, you are surprisingly fiscally responsible.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“You haven’t abandoned your family to see the world.”

“I moved out of the family home.”

He winked at her. “But stayed in the city.”

“What can I say? I love San Francisco.”

“And your father.”

“I’d rather not talk about that.”

“Understood.” He smiled and her nerve endings went twang. “Your media notoriety isn’t even of the truly scandalous variety.”

“Until Perrygate.”

Vik waved his hand, dismissing the importance of Perry’s lies. “That will be handled.”

“Thank you for that.” The thought of being forced to give up her volunteerism because of an unsavory reputation hurt deeply, compounding her pain at Perry’s betrayal.

He knew how important working with the children was to her.

“But seriously?” she asked, refocusing. “Whitley and Jones?”

Vik shrugged, but his lips firmed in a telling line. “They’re the most likely men within the company to do the job.”

“Marrying me?”

“Becoming the next president.”

“Besides you.”

“Besides me,” he agreed.

“You’re the only real candidate.”

“I would like to think so.”