A Very Exclusive Engagement

Liam frowned and stepped back from the window. The distance bothered her even though it was her own words that had driven him away. “I’d say it packs enough of a punch.”

She ignored the slightly offended tone of his voice. He wasn’t about to make her feel guilty. He’d deserved the title at the time. “Have a good evening, Mr. Crowe,” she said before the cab pulled away and she disappeared into traffic.

Three

Liam had just stepped from his shower when he heard his cell phone ringing. The tune, “God Save the Queen,” made him cringe. Had he told his great aunt Beatrice he was in Manhattan? She must’ve found out somehow.

He wrapped his towel around his waist and dashed into his bedroom where the phone was lying on the comforter. The words “Queen Bee” flashed on the screen with the photo of a tiara. His aunt Beatrice would not be amused if she knew what the rest of the family called her.

With a sigh, he picked up the phone and hit the answer key. “Hello?”

“Liam,” his aunt replied with her haughty Upper East Side accent. “Are you all right? I was told you were trapped in an elevator all afternoon.”

“I’m fine. Just hungry, but I’m about to—”

“Excellent,” she interrupted. “Then you’ll join me for dinner. There’s an important matter I need to discuss with you.”

Liam bit back a groan. He hated eating at Aunt Beatrice’s house. Mostly because of having to listen to her go on and on about the family and how irresponsible they all were. But even then, she liked them all more than Liam because they kissed her derrière. And that was smart. She was worth two billion dollars with no children of her own to inherit. Everyone was jockeying for their cut.

Everyone but Liam. He was polite and distant. He didn’t need her money. Or at least he hadn’t until the ANS deal came up and he didn’t have enough liquid assets to buy a majority stake quickly. Other people also were interested in the company, including leeches like Ron Wheeler, who specialized in hacking businesses to bits for profit. To move fast, Liam had had to swallow his pride and ask his Aunt to invest in the remaining shares of ANS that he couldn’t afford. Together, they had controlling interest of the company, and by designating her voting powers to him, Aunt Beatrice had put Liam in charge.

Liam had every intention of slowly buying her out over time, but he wouldn’t be able to do so for quite a while. So now, at long last, Aunt Beatrice had something to hold over his head. And when she snapped, for the first time in his life, he had to jump.

“Dinner is at six,” she said, either oblivious or unconcerned about his unhappy silence on the end of the line.

“Yes, Aunt Beatrice. I’ll see you at six.”

After he hung up the phone, he eyed the clock and realized he didn’t have long to get over to her Upper East Side mansion in rush hour traffic. He’d do better to walk, so he needed to get out the door soon.

It was just as well that Francesca had turned down his dinner date so he didn’t have to cancel. That would’ve pained him terribly, even after knowing what she’d called him.

“Son of a pig farmer,” he muttered to himself as he got dressed.

He opted for a gray suit with a pale purple dress shirt and no tie. He hated ties and only wore them when absolutely necessary. Today, he’d felt like he needed to look important and in control at the board meeting. He didn’t want the ANS directors to think they were in the hands of a laid-back dreamer. But as soon as he had a strong foothold in the company, the ties would be gone.

Tonight, he left it off simply because he knew to do so would aggravate Aunt Beatrice. She liked formal dress for dinner but had given up long ago on the family going to that much trouble. She did, however, still expect a jacket and tie for the men and a dress and hosiery for the ladies. It was only proper. Leaving off the tie would be a small but noted rebellion on his part. He didn’t want her to think she had him completely under her thumb.

It wasn’t until he rang the doorbell that he remembered her mentioning something about an important issue she wanted to discuss. He couldn’t imagine what it could be, but he sincerely hoped it didn’t involve him dating someone’s daughter. Aunt Beatrice was singleminded in her pursuit of marriage and family for Liam. He couldn’t fathom why she cared.

“Good evening, Mr. Crowe,” her ancient butler Henry said as he opened the door.

Henry had worked for his aunt Liam’s entire life and a good number of years before that. The man was in his seventies now but as spry and chipper as ever.

“Good evening, Henry. How is she tonight?” he asked, leaning in to the elderly man and lowering his voice.

“She’s had a bee in her bonnet about something all afternoon, sir. She made quite a few calls once the power was restored.”

Liam frowned. “Any idea what it’s about?”

“I don’t. But I would assume it involves you because you were the only one invited to dinner this evening.”

That was odd. Usually Aunt Beatrice invited at least two family members to dinner. She enjoyed watching them try to one-up each other all night and get in her good favor. It really was a ridiculous exercise, but it was amazing what the family would do just because she asked. His grandfather, Aunt Beatrice’s brother, had never had much to do with her, so neither did that branch of the family. It was only after all the others of the generation had died that she took over as matriarch. Then, even Liam’s part of the family was drawn back into the fold.

Liam held his tongue as Henry led him through the parlor and into the formal dining room. When a larger group was expected, Aunt Beatrice would greet her guests in the parlor and then adjourn to the dining room when everyone had arrived. Apparently because it was just him they bypassed the formalities and went straight to dinner.

Aunt Beatrice was there in her seat at the head of the long, oak table, looking regal as always. Her gray hair was curled perfectly, her rose chiffon dress nicely accented by the pink sapphire necklace and earrings she paired with it. she didn’t smile as he entered. Instead, she evaluated him from top to bottom, her lips tightening into a frown when she noted his lack of tie.

“Good evening, Aunt Beatrice,” he said with a wide smile to counter her grimace. He came around the table and placed a kiss on her cheek before sitting down at the place setting to her right.

“Liam,” she said, acknowledging him without any real warmth. That’s why he’d always thought of her as royalty. Stiff, formal, proper. He couldn’t imagine what she would have been like if she had married and had children. Children would require laughter and dirt—two things unthinkable in this household.

Henry poured them each a glass of wine and disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve their first course. Liam hated to see the old man wait on him. He should be in a recliner, watching television and enjoying his retirement, not serving meals to privileged people capable of doing it themselves. The man had never even married. He had no life of his own outside of this mansion.

“When are you going to let Henry retire?” he asked. “The poor man deserves some time off before he drops dead in your foyer.”

Aunt Beatrice bristled at the suggestion. “He loves it here. He wouldn’t think of leaving me. And besides, Henry would never die in the foyer. He knows how expensive that Oriental rug is.”

Liam sighed and let the subject drop. Henry placed bowls of soup in front of them both and disappeared again. “So, what have you summoned me here to discuss tonight?” He might as well just get it over with. There was no sense waiting for the chocolate soufflé or the cheese course.

“I received a phone call today from a man named Ron Wheeler.”

Liam stiffened in his seat and stopped his spoon of soup in midair. Ron Wheeler was in the business of buying struggling companies and “streamlining” them. That usually involved laying off at least half the employees and hacking up the benefits packages of the ones who were left. Then he’d break the company up into smaller pieces and sell them off for more than the price of the whole. No one liked to hear the mention of his name. “And what did he have to say?”

“He heard I’d bought a large portion of Graham Boyle’s ANS stock. He’s made me an extremely generous offer to buy it.”

At that, Liam dropped his spoon, sending splatters of butternut squash all across the pristine white tablecloth. Henry arrived in an instant to clean up the mess and bring him a new spoon, but Liam didn’t want it. He couldn’t stomach the idea of food at this point.

“Aunt Beatrice, your holding is larger than mine. If you sell him your stock, he’ll gain majority control of the company. The whole network will be at risk.”

She nodded, setting down her own spoon. “I realize that. And I know how important the company is to you. But I also want you to know how important this family is to me. I won’t be around forever, Liam. This family needs someone strong and smart to run it. You don’t need me to tell you that most of our relatives are idiots. My two sisters never had any sense and neither did their children. My father knew it, too, which is why he left most of the family money to me and your grandfather. He knew they’d all be broke and homeless without someone sensible in charge.”

Liam didn’t want to know where this conversation was going. It couldn’t be good. “Why are you telling me this? What does it have to do with Ron Wheeler?”

“Because I think you’re the right person to lead the family after I’m gone.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he insisted. They both knew she was too mean to die. “You have plenty of years ahead of you.”

Her sharp blue gaze focused on him, an unexpected hint of emotion flashing in them for a fleeting second before she waved away his statement. “Everyone dies, Liam. It’s better to be prepared for the eventuality. I want you to take my place and be family patriarch. As such, you would inherit everything of mine and serve as executor of the family trusts.”

The blood drained from Liam’s face. He didn’t want that kind of responsibility. Two billion dollars and a family full of greedy suck-ups chasing him around? “I don’t want your money, Aunt Beatrice. You know that.”

“Exactly. But I know what you do want. You want ANS. And as long as I have my shares, you won’t truly have it. I could sell at any time to Ron Wheeler or anyone else who gives me a good offer.”

Liam took a big swallow of wine to calm his nerves. Aunt Beatrice had never held anything over him. She couldn’t because until now he hadn’t needed her or her money and she knew it. But he’d made a critical error. He never should’ve agreed to this stock arrangement with her. He’d given her the leverage to twist him any way she wanted to. “Why would you do that? I told you I would buy that stock from you at what you paid or the going rate, if it goes higher.”

“Because I want you to settle down. I can’t have you leading this family while you play newsman and chase skirts around D.C. I want you married. Stable. Ready to lead the Crowe family.”

“I’m only twenty-eight.”