Marrying the Boss

He rubbed the back of his neck. Their personal lawyer had obtained information on Leanne. She held a Master’s degree in Business Management and taught at the University of Illinois at Chicago. “She might not have any appreciable business experience, Mother, but she’s not stupid.”

He picked up the investigator’s report from their lawyer. “She’s not just a teacher, she’s a professor. Well-respected.”

“But not tenured.”

“She’s young for that.”

“Mark, the girl is no competition.”

“I agree. I just don’t want to see her embarrassed. She is family.” And that, he told himself, was the only reason he cared.

“Oh, please.”

“Even with the agreements, it’ll be difficult to keep this fiasco out of the papers. Too many people know already. The court case didn’t help. If I have to wipe the floor with my young auntie, I will. I’d just rather not endure a public farce while doing it.”

“She’s hardly worth your concern.”

“I’m concerned with keeping the business. I’m going to run it, as we’ve always planned.”

“Maybe you should charm the girl, keep her off balance. Just don’t let this little Miss-Nothing-from-Nowhere bring down the business with a scandal. No one needs to hear about her harlot mother becoming the Lion’s mistress or raising his illicit offspring all on her own.”

Mark swung around to berate his mother, but stopped. Leanne stood in the doorway, ashen and wide-eyed. He took a step toward her.

Leanne backed away. Her gaze held his, and it seemed she checked her tears by sheer force of will.

“So you’re here,” Gloria said. “I suppose it’s time for you two to get your first assignment.”

Leanne nodded slowly, then straightened her shoulders. “Yes, I do believe it’s time to begin.”

Mark followed her out the door to the next room, unsure what to say. He could strangle his mother for her hateful words. He wished he’d had the chance to defend Leanne. He felt awful. The poor woman had stepped into a vicious world of cutthroat dealings. She’d be out of her element. No one was exempt from cruelty here. No matter how stunning her green eyes, how shapely her legs.

He pulled his thoughts back into line. This woman, for all her claim to be related to his adopted father, was a stranger. A stranger who would try to take his birthright from him.

Well, no, he checked himself. Actually, it was her birthright. His by right of adoption and years of damned hard work. He was the non-blood Collins, the outsider. They were related only on paper.

Does that mean we could…?

With an irritated grunt, he stepped into the room behind her. Introductions had taken place while he’d been standing in the hall like an idiot.

“Mr. Mulvany.” Mark reached across and shook the man’s hand. He greeted each of the six board members and Todd Benton. He watched Leanne slide into a chair, then took the one next to her. They sat facing the board across the table. He shook his head. Just like on the TV show.

Harrison Mulvany III reached inside his coat pocket and slid a white envelope across the table to Leanne. “I’ve been entrusted with this, my dear. I don’t know the contents myself. I’m just passing along a favor.”

He reached into his pocket, then slid a cream envelope toward Mark. Mark watched out of the corner of his eye as Leanne slit hers open. Her mouth tightened; her eyes narrowed.

He slit open his own envelope. The Lion had left him a brief note: “I’m counting on you to prove I haven’t wasted all these years. Prove you’re a Collins.”

Mark very carefully folded the note, then fitted it back into the envelope. He put it in his inside breast pocket, against his heart.

When would he fit in? What the hell did he have to do to finally belong to this family?

The Lion had just answered those questions. He’d fit in when he won. Only then would he prove he was a Collins.

“No,” Leanne said.

He looked at her, forgetting she’d just received a note from the dead, also.

“I’m not interested.”

Mulvany nodded, then slid her a cream-colored envelope. “From your father.”

Mark started. This one came from the Lion? “May I ask who the first note was from?”

She turned her head and looked right through him. “I’m sure you know.” Then she turned her attention to the sheet of stationery. After a moment, she put it in her purse.

Benton cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

Mulvany nodded.

“You’ve met the board members,” Benton said. “They wanted an opportunity to look you over. Now all but Mr. Mulvany, Mr. Garland and Mrs. Metcalf will leave.”

The other four filed out. The door closed, and silence descended. Mark’s throat tightened. He knew he would win. Leanne had no experience while he’d had twenty years working right here at Collins Company. Still, the tension of being measured against the Lion’s expectations bored into his head.

Benton opened a folder in front of him. “This is how we proceed. I have given the first challenge to Mr. Mulvany, who will oversee the competition. The three board members present will reconvene after each challenge’s time limit to review your effort. They will determine who wins each phase. The last challenge carries the most weight in their determination of the winner for the position of CEO and control of the Lion’s stock shares. Questions?”

Leanne shook her head.

Mark asked, “Is there any recourse other than this competition?”

“I’m sorry, but no,” Benton said. “Should either of you choose not to compete, you will be disqualified. The CEO position and stocks will be awarded to the other person.”

Mark looked at the board members. “As acting head—” It grated on him to phrase it that way. He should be in charge. “—of Collins, I want a written promise from each of you to ensure total confidentiality. This would hurt the company should it turn up in the papers.”

He withdrew affidavits for each member and slid them across the table. “The Collins lawyers drew these up. You may have your lawyers look at them, but know that I will not continue with any discussion of this farce until these are signed.”

Taking the last paper out of the folder, he set it in front of Leanne.

She looked at it, then him. With raised eyebrows, she asked, “Where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“I want a guarantee of your silence, as well.”

“Trust me, I don’t want this to get out.”

“Nor do I. However, in the interest of fair play—” Her cold glare indicated that she considered him incapable of being fair. His neck warmed, but he held her gaze when it clashed with his.

“I want to make sure,” she continued, “that when the challenges are awarded in my favor, and should I be granted succession of the line—”