A Very Intimate Takeover
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LaQuette
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HarlequinOne
“Jordan Dylan Devereaux III.”
Trey froze midstep, thwarted in her attempt to quietly slip through the reception area of DD Enterprises’ executive suites. Five minutes of peace before this meeting was all she wanted. But when she heard the boom of her father’s voice, she knew it wasn’t to be. She tried to pretend she didn’t hear him as she turned toward her office.
“Trey! Don’t make me call your government name again. Bring yourself into my office.”
Trey sighed and looked toward the ceiling, hoping to calm the shivers plaguing her body. Those tremors—more a sign of her rage than fear—persisted beyond the usual deep breath she took to get control of herself.
Remember, he’s your daddy and you’re too pretty to go to jail for patricide. She took one final breath and made the left turn to enter his office.
She walked into the large room with sunlight beaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran the length of three walls and looked at her father. He reminded her of the East River as he stood there watching, deceptively calm at first glance, but filled with angry currents that could drag you down into darkness at the drop of a hat.
“Did you hear me calling you?” His tone was unemotional, but she hadn’t been the daughter of Jordan Dylan “Deuce” Devereaux II for thirty-two years not to know this was the calm before the storm.
“Daddy, everyone on this floor heard you calling me.” She closed his office door to give them more privacy. If he was using her full name, things would probably get much louder very soon. “What’s on your mind?”
“We lost the Singleton bid.”
She stiffened. She knew this was coming. Deuce Devereaux didn’t tolerate failure from anyone, not even his baby girl. “I’m aware, Daddy. It was out of my control.”
“Out of your control? Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you my VP? And isn’t the mergers and acquisitions department under your direct supervision?”
He knew very well she was and it was. He’d promoted her into the position four years ago because she had a keen eye for recognizing when businesses were ripe for the picking. Since then, she’d landed deal after deal, making him an obscene amount of money and putting his investment management firm, DD Enterprises, neck and neck with his number one competitor, Devereaux Incorporated. His father’s investment firm.
Deuce turned away from his perch at the window and faced her. A tall Black man with the same smooth, deep brown skin and eyes he’d blessed Trey with, he always pulled the attention of a room. His dark close-cropped tight curls and thick, neatly trimmed mustache gave him a seasoned confidence only someone with significant life experience possessed. He wasn’t a man you could fool. Only logic and reason won you any sway with him, and by the way his narrowed eyes locked on to hers, she knew he wasn’t seeing the logic in her statement.
“I told you I wanted those shares at any cost, no matter how long it took.”
“Daddy, in less than six months I’ve acquired thirty-three of the fifty-one percent of the shares needed to complete our takeover. Singleton is the only holdout. I gave our people permission to pay him four times what his Devereaux Inc. shares were worth. We both know he’s in a financial hole and those shares are the only means he has to getting back on his feet. But at the last minute, he backed out with no explanation.”
“You’re too impulsive, Trey. Singleton isn’t like the rest of the people you dangled money in front of. He’s an old hand like my father, Ace. They came up together in business. He knows how to play the long game. Without his shares, my chance to take back what Ace stole from me—”
“Is only temporarily postponed. You’ll have it. I promise,” she answered quickly, hoping he’d remember how often she’d kept similar promises like this one in the past. “Singleton got spooked. But I’ll make sure our reps get him back on track. Everyone has a price, Daddy. I just have to figure out what his is.”
“I told you not to push him too hard. You don’t know how to finesse people, Trey, only steamroll over them.”
She threw her hand up in the air and let it fall back against her thick thigh, snug in her pencil skirt. “Here we go again. You’re the one who taught me not to be anyone’s chump. Placating people’s nonsense is the biggest chump move you can make. Any of that sound familiar, Daddy, or did you forget who you raised me to be?”
Her father folded his arms over his chest and squinted at her, proof he wasn’t thrilled with her tone. “I have forgotten nothing, but obviously you have if you’re not taking this as seriously as I am.”
She took another breath, trying to get her head together again. “Ace fired you and threw you out of the Devereaux family at twenty-two for loving my mother. He believed someone from her humble East New York beginnings could only be after the Devereaux money, or worse, was trying to get her hooks into his beloved company. He didn’t give a damn how his cruelty would impact the daughter growing in her womb. That daughter was me. I haven’t forgotten, Daddy. I will make him pay for loving that company more than he did his own blood and for choosing it over his own son and unborn grandchild. Even if I have to buy the damn thing from him myself.”
Her father walked closer to her, pointing his finger in her direction and stabbing the air as he spoke. “Don’t even joke like that. Stay away from Ace. He’s treacherous.”
“Fine, I’ll stay away from him.” Her acquiescence brought Deuce visible relief as the tension in the tight lines of his face melted away. Challenging her father on business matters was one thing. But she dared not test his unbreakable rule concerning her grandfather. “I promise I’ll find another way. I always do, don’t I?”
“How, Trey? Everyone else on that board is a member of Ace’s family or in his pocket. They will never sell to an outsider. How do you propose we secure those shares now? My way was the only way of getting everything I’ve worked so hard for. And you in your infinite wisdom just screwed that up.”
The little girl in her who ached for her father’s approval crumbled a little. But the grown-ass woman in her refused to let her father have that satisfaction, so she placed her hands on her hips and straightened her posture.
“If you think I’m not doing a good enough job, then fire me. Otherwise, I’ve got a desk full of things I need to handle before the end of business today.”
She turned on her skinny heel, opened the door, and closed it quietly behind her. She wouldn’t slam it and show that he’d gotten to her. No one got the better of Trey Devereaux, not even the father she adored.
She walked across the hall to her own office and slipped inside. Sliding behind her desk, she placed her Hermès Black Box tote on a nearby side table. The moment the plush material of her chair cradled her body, she let an audible sigh spill from her slightly parted lips. Relief bled through her. This was her sanctuary. From this desk, she could create miracles. No matter the struggle, when she was here, in the quiet room that fueled her creativity with pops of vibrant red, gray, black and white, she could handle it all.
Then act like it.
She abruptly stopped the nervous tapping of her fingernail on the glass tabletop and looked at the pile of unopened mail. Fortified with a sip of her favorite iced coffee and a letter opener, Trey got to work distracting herself.
Halfway through the pile her secretary, Anisha, popped her head in the door and waved an envelope. “A courier delivered this letter before you came in. It looks important. He made me sign for it in triplicate before he’d hand it over. Unfortunately, I can’t tell if it’s for you or your dad. There’s no designation on it.”
Trey shrugged. When you bore a name shared by many generations, confusion was common. “I really wish people understood the ‘III’ at the end of my name isn’t optional.” Most women didn’t have to deal with this problem since it was customary for sons to carry their father’s names. But Deuce Devereaux insisted gender had no bearing on birthright and had proudly bestowed his name—what he saw as the only thing his father, Ace, couldn’t strip him of—onto his daughter.
She waved Anisha in. “I’ll take it. If it’s for my dad, I’ll walk it over later.” Anisha gave her the letter, then disappeared into the hall.
“It’s almost too pretty to open.” Trey looked at the return address trying to surmise who J. Benton from St. James Place in Brooklyn, New York, was. The envelope was smooth yet had enough texture that she took her time sliding her finger across it. The deep sandalwood beige, trimmed in a dark mahogany and gold foil, had enough flare to let you know the sender cared about making a good impression, but not so much that it was gaudy.
She opened the envelope and pulled out the folded paper carefully. She was curious to see what this J. Benton had to say.
Dear Mr. Jordan Dylan Devereaux,
I’m Jeremiah Benton, the COO at Devereaux Incorporated.
Please forgive my forwardness in sending you a physical letter. However, I needed to confirm delivery of this message while ensuring our communication remained private. What I have to say is too important to risk getting lost in your spam folder or intercepted by prying eyes. The elder Mr. Devereaux has forbidden me to share this with you, but I felt that as his son, you needed to know. I regret to inform you that Ace has fallen ill. Ill enough that his physicians have determined he may have less than six months of life remaining. I know I am a stranger, and this is a personal topic, but your father and his business need you now as his next of kin. If left to his sister, Martha Devereaux-Smith, Devereaux Incorporated will suffer. You are the only person who can stop her. Please don’t delay. For your father, and his legacy, I beg you to return to Devereaux Manor immediately.
Sincerely,
J. Benton
Trey rose in one quick movement, heading for her father’s office. When she arrived, she immediately paused. The grandfather she’d seen nowhere but on television and in business magazines was dying. She tried to process what this new knowledge made her feel, and all she could identify was numbness. But her father, having spent the first twenty-two years of his life at his father’s side, might feel something more than the nothingness that spread through her veins.
The door was slightly ajar. She was about to knock when she heard her parents’ voices.
“Destiny, she’s too quick to act. I’ve told her she couldn’t rely solely on her usual tactics, and she ignored everything I said and did it her way instead. Now, she can’t make this right.” Her father’s words cut deep, like a heated blade. He was still angry with her, his focus so fused to her failure, he couldn’t see her ability to get this job done.
“Deuce, practically from the moment we found out I was carrying Trey, you have demanded greatness from her. You used to place your head on my belly every night when she would kick me so hard I couldn’t sleep and say the same thing over and over until she calmed down. ‘Trey, you are Deuce Devereaux’s daughter, and there isn’t a man or woman that can stand against you.’ You believed that then, and in all this time she’s never given you reason to doubt her.”
“This is different, Des. This was her test, to prove to me she could handle everything I’m leaving to her. Now, after this disaster, I can’t retire. I can’t leave DD Enterprises until I know she’s ready. I’m so tired, baby.” The hitch in his voice yanked at Trey’s heart. His lack of faith in her might have raised her blood pressure, but hearing him this way, so fragile, so hopeless, felt like something crushing her from the inside out. “I’ve been fighting this fight with Ace for over thirty years. It’s taken so much away from my life with you. I’d thought I could retire early and leave it all to her, but now...”
“Don’t doubt her, Deuce. She will find a way.”
The letter she was holding pressed against her palm like a million pounds of sand. So tiny and insignificant from a glance, but the information inside it had the power to completely change their situation. A plan began to form in her mind. She’d promised her father she’d deliver Devereaux Incorporated to him; she would keep that promise.
Trey returned to her office, unfolding the letter again and looking at the information it contained with new eyes. She’d promised her father she’d win this fight for him, and suddenly she realized she held the key to victory right there in her hand.
