Page 64 of Illusive
Vidal, for his part, hadn’t moved. He waited with his arms crossed. Wearing khaki slacks, a white dress shirt opened at the collar, and a gray cardigan blazer, the former record executive looked more like the host of a children’s television show than someone steeped in the business of rock ‘n roll. Behind his octagonal brass eyeglass frames, his slate-green eyes were hard. His grizzled auburn curls were in disarray, as if he’d either forgone combing his hair or had been running his fingers through it.
Ronan tried to see any resemblance to Ireland in her father but found none. Hischerwas the image of her mother. A blessing, that.
“You can’t be here,” he told Vidal icily. “Ever. There’s no place for you. And stirring up trouble among the employees will only get them fired and make it harder for your daughter.”
“As if losing her birthright isn’t enough.”
“She’s not going to lose it. Only you are.” Ronan shrugged. “And possibly your son, if Ireland tires of his lackadaisical approach to running a business.”
Vidal’s eyes widened, but he otherwise didn’t move. “She wanted to save it. I didn’t think it was possible.”
“I’mmaking it possible.” Ronan stepped away from the door and rounded the desk, forcing Vidal to either speak over his shoulder or face him.
Vidal straightened and turned. “Why?”
“I expect that’s obvious at this point.” He tossed his duffel into the footwell and set his satchel on the desktop next to an open file box filled with Vidal’s belongings.
So, the man had been in the process of moving out. That took a bit of the sting out of it, and Ronan found he was unhappy with that. He’d prefer a fight.
“Are you using Ireland to hurt me?” Vidal asked.
Ronan sat in the desk chair and leaned back, eyeing the man whose actions had led not only to the loss of life but also to a rippling wave of disasters that affected generations of his family. The boy he’d once been still felt such fury over the injustice of it. He wanted to say things that were hurtful just to watch the man squirm and suffer.
His mouth curving in a cruel smile, he waited a beat to answer. “‘Using’ is such a nasty word in this instance. ‘Enjoying’ would be better. Very much so, actually. And no, you don’t come to mind at all when I’m enjoying her. If it hurts you to think of it, that’s an unintentional bonus.”
Heat washed into Vidal’s face, and a vicious light entered his eyes. “I see the resemblance to your father is more than skin deep. I’ll rephrase my question: Are you going to hurther?”
Rocking back in the seat, Ronan’s gaze narrowed. “Why should I answer you? Why would I give you any comfort or reassurance at all?”
“That’s answer enough,” Vidal said, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. “If that was your objective, you’d rub it in my face.”
He watched as Ireland’s father sat in one of the chairs. “You’ll wonder and stew over it anyway.”
“If you’re saving this company for her, you either hope to win her favor by doing so or you already have it and don’t want to lose it.” Vidal crossed his legs and settled in. “She’s a sweet, wonderful, beautiful girl who’s never intentionally hurt anyone. At least not anyone who didn’t first deserve it.”
Ronan’s tongue darted out to the small scab on his lip. He couldn’t argue that he hadn’t had some part in earning it. “Youcould secure my guarantee that she’ll maintain her position here.”
Vidal went very still. “What do you want?”
“Your promise not to profit from your surname via a name and likeness licensing agreement. When people hear the word ‘Vidal,’ you should never come to mind.”
“And if I don’t agree?”
Waving a careless hand, Ronan drawled, “Well, then, any number of things could happen. One day, maybe I’ll find that I don’t enjoy Ireland so much. Or perhaps, she’ll grow bored with me. What incentive would I have then to put effort into saving this business instead of selling off its assets to recoup what I can?”
Vidal’s hands curled around the chair’s armrests. “Can you guarantee the business will survive so that her position actually exists?”
“I’ll do my best. Your incompetence has left me with quite a mess to sort through. I not only have to fix all of your fuckups but also find new streams of income that can weather the challenges the industry faces. I’m certainly capable, but of course, there are variables.”
“So, I lose the rights to my name, and you promise nothing of substance.”
Ronan stood so abruptly that the desk chair slammed into the credenza behind him. His palms hit the glass desktop with a loud smack. “Your lies have taken an entireexistencefrom me. From my father. From our family. My mother died a brutal, terrifying, agonizing death. Do not sit there and presume to ask anything of me. I’ve nothing but my rage to give you.”
Vidal’s face turned ashen. He rose unsteadily to his feet. “How can my daughter—my flesh and blood…my heart—ever be safe with you? How could I or any of my family trust you to do right by her? In business or otherwise?”
Regaining his composure by sheer will alone, Ronan straightened and slid his hands into his pockets. “You’ll just have to take my word for it and hope I’m not as good a liar as you. I’ll have the paperwork couriered to your home. Now take your shit and get the fuck out of my office.”
With a cup of freshly brewed coffee held between both hands, Eva stood on the open threshold between her dining and living rooms, filled with a sense of surreality. It was nearing eleven on Monday morning, but she’d only just awoken. Unsurprisingly, Gideon had been up and working in his home office for hours already.
