Ким Карр - Mended

He gives me a cocky grin and although I want to knock it off his face, I’m choking, shuddering at his audacity. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind his bar and rein my temper in. For Ivy, I keep reminding myself. Keep your cool for your girl.

“But before we discuss my wife, let me start by telling you a little bit about the man that owned this company—the great Josh Wolf, my father, your grandfather. He was a man who ruled with an iron fist, always logic and numbers, never any emotion. So getting Nick Wilde fired was easy. I knew all I had to do was show poor performance—no matter how much my father liked Nick, he was a businessman through and through and nothing but performance mattered in both his personal and professional life. Oh, wait—there was one tiny exception to that rule—Dylan, my brother, your father. The great Josh Wolf loved that boy in a way he loved no one else—Dylan could do no wrong. Ironic, since he was a user, a drug addict who couldn’t keep clean. I always tried to help my brother. I lived with him, I took care of him, I picked him up off the floor numerous times. And how did he repay me—by dating the woman I worked so hard to get. I deserved your mother . . . he didn’t. Do you know that when he overdosed, my father blamed me? Me!” he screams. “And then your mother—she went back to Nick.”

I don’t move. I’m caught in the web of the story he’s spinning.

“My father never forgave me for Dylan’s death and for years I had to prove to him I was worthy to be a part of his business. I had to make my way up the ladder and even after I landed Zeak Perry as a client, that wasn’t enough. Only when he took ill did I earn my rightful place. And then in his death I learn the bastard didn’t leave me the company—he left me half. I’d been under the impression my inheritance had a marriage clause. I never thought it had you in it. Never saw it coming. He didn’t seem to care about you. The night I told him you existed he didn’t even blink an eye. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the anniversary of Dylan’s death and he was putting my brother on a pedestal again. I couldn’t take it, so I just blurted out that at least I didn’t have an illegitimate son out there. You see, he knew about you for years and never did anything, never cared—not until he died anyway. How does that make you feel?”

I don’t bother to tell him Josh Wolf sought out my mother—that he knew about me and that he did care. He cared enough to do as my mother wished. His knowing the facts wouldn’t change anything. The man in front of me is vile, evil to the core, and I want to rid my life of him as soon as I can. I reach in my pocket and pull out the documents showing my fifty percent ownership.

“Ahhh . . . so you’re not here to meet your dear old uncle. I was wondering when you’d get to the point. How long it would take. But finally!” Damon says, walking to his desk. “The reason you’re here.” He claps his hands together as if congratulating himself. “You’re here for your half of the company. What do you think? Should we share desk space? Make decisions together? How do you think my dear old dad saw this going? Did he think we’d make an excellent team?”

I stare at him. He is so cold that I freeze. Falter. Words can’t explain how this man makes me feel. Finally I find my voice. “Why did you go see my father the day he killed himself?” I ask the question I’ve wanted to know the answer to for so long, unconcerned as to what position that puts me in in his eyes—because I know without a doubt that when this meeting is over I will be the winner.

A smile slowly spreads across his face. He touches his fingertips to the desk and leans on it. “For you and your brother. Boy bands were popping up everywhere and I had one in my backyard. I wanted to represent you both, but Nick was adamant that he wasn’t going to let me. I may have mentioned telling you about Dylan and then I gave him twenty-four hours to decide. But we both know how he responded to that.”

“You’re not why he killed himself. He wouldn’t have wasted a single breath on you.” I’m seething. I shoot across the office and slam his head down on the desk. I’m shaking so much it’s making me dizzy. I inhale, then exhale and let go.

He stands up straight and removes his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. He levels his gaze at me. “How about we discuss whatever it is you so urgently had to call me away from my father’s funeral for before I call Johnny in to escort you downstairs.” He cocks his head and holds back a smile.

Shaking in my anger, I fist my hands at my sides. “I’m here for a trade.”

“A trade. Really?”

I hold the paper in the air. “Ivy for this.”

His eyes darken as realization dawns on him. “I didn’t play you for the type to put love before business. I have to say I’m surprised. But it’s not going to be that easy. There is so much I want from her before I can let her go.”

Stepping forward, I stand directly in front of him. Eye to eye. I’m buried in hatred, anger, frustration—wanting so much to wrap my hands around his neck and strangle him. But I have what he wants and I’m pretty sure he wants it more than anything else. I casually walk around his desk and take a seat in one of the two chairs in front of it.

“Maybe you’re more like me than my brother. Willing to make a deal,” he says with a grin.

“We are nothing alike. Nothing!”

His eyes gleam and he sits in his desk chair, tenting his fingers. “You start. Tell me what you think you can offer me for that beautiful wife of mine.”

Vibrating with disgust as the words roll off his tongue, I take a deep breath, knowing I have to keep myself under control. I put my poker face on.

He squeezes the arms of his expensive leather chair and with a clenched jaw asks, “Why are you here?”

I cock my head and suppress a bitter smile. “To tell you it’s in your best interest to file annulment papers as soon as your shaky fingers can call your attorney.”

His bottom lip trembles. “Why would I want to do that?”

No longer able to hold my smile back, I tell him, “Because for every minute that passes once I leave your office today that you don’t, you might not like the results.”

“Don’t play games with me, boy.”

“Oh, see, here’s where you’re wrong. I’m not a boy and I’m not playing any kind of game. I’m dead serious. I will sell one share of stock to the public for a dollar for every passing minute you don’t pick up that phone. You figure it out—you’re smart. In about a week, half of Sheep Industries will be worthless. Oh, and when you call your attorney, tell him to terminate your contract with Ivy, effective immediately.” I’m quiet for the next few seconds as he sits there with an incredulous expression on his face. Then I look him straight in the eye and add, “And when our business is settled you can do what you want with the company. I’ll stay silent. But hear this: if you ever threaten my family again I’ll make it my life’s mission to ensure you don’t have a company left to run.” Once I’ve said all I came to say, I get up and walk out the door—never looking back, never wanting to see his face again.

One Month Later

There are no degrees or certificates hanging on the walls in the hallway of the Amazing Grace recording studio. Rather, only one wall gleams with gold and platinum records from Tyler Records and Amazing Grace, and that makes me smile. I want Ivy’s up there one day. Jack and River have combined the recording aspect of their companies and now Amazing Grace handles production and Tyler Records takes care of distribution. It’s clean and easy and gives Jack a little more free time.

I owed Jack a huge apology for the way I acted the night I found out about Dylan. Jack, in his typical fashion, blew it off as a small blip on the radar and graciously accepted my apology. I took that opportunity to talk to him about the guys, and he said that with the merger of the two companies there were a number of positions that needed to be filled. I wasn’t sure how they’d react or if they’d want to work there—but they did. Garrett and Nix both decided to join River. It’s been great to see the childhood friends who almost launched a band to stardom now helping other bands achieve their dream—pretty awesome if you think about it.

Finishing a call, I tuck my phone in my pocket. I know I have a huge grin on my face as I enter the control room. Ivy’s eyes are closed at the microphone and everyone is silent. Leif is on the keyboard accompanying her. He is staying on with her. I’m not sure he will forever, but he seems happy—for now. Pressing the intercom, I say, “Move your music forward, Ivy. Don’t overthink it.” She peeks over at me and smiles that genuine smile that I love, and I add, “So we can get out of here.” The ease with which we have fallen into sync with each other isn’t hard to believe. We get each other and we get along—we did before and we do now. It’s just that easy.

“I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Baby, no chance of that.” I wink at her.

She’s wearing a tight red blouse that buttons up the middle. It makes her tits look all the more perfect. She’s also wearing a pair of jeans that when she turns around to cue the band, make her ass look amazing. Shifting on my feet, I think, Fuck, when am I going to get this under control?

She and Leif start playing, and concentrates on laying the tracks. He hasn’t made a single sketchy comment to me since that first day in the studio and our ability to work together has been spot-on. This is the first album completely under Ivy’s control and it’s coming together faster than I ever expected. For the past month we’ve lived and breathed the studio day in and day out. Ivy already had the songs written. Dahlia’s designing the cover art and Aerie is working on promoting the album. With any luck it will be ready to launch in six weeks.