He didn’t lift his head from his phone, but his eyes rolled up and locked on mine. “My friends don’t engage in the primitive interests of commoners.”
Did he really just say that? I bit my tongue. Considering my primitive interest in Evader, maybe I should’ve been offended. But hey, if I died knowing I was nothing like Trent Anderson, I’d consider his comment a fucking compliment.
He dropped the phone in his pocket. “If you want that promotion, you’ll adhere to the contract and do as you’re told.” He hit a button beneath the table to unlock the doors and ambled out without a look in my direction.
Dismissed like a menial office worker.
He vanished around the corner, and I released a heavy breath. My career was far from menial. Next week, I would be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. If Collin and I continued to comply with their demands, remained married, and didn’t commit adultery. I sighed. If we didn’t get caught.
God, I needed that promotion, the title I’d busted my ass for. MBA in leadership and organizational development from Yale. Certified public accountant with a BA in accounting and economics from Georgetown. Twelve-hour workdays and not a single vacation in fifteen years. Damn right, I’d earned it.
Next week, Trent would hand off his CEO position to me. Then I would have control of the entire conglomerate. Transforming our families’ company from a self-fulfilling entity into an unbiased, trustworthy news source was an aspiration bigger than myself. I could do it, but that wasn’t why I needed it.
What ruled my every breath was the legally binding contract Collin and I had been forced to sign. And that contract had a loophole.
See, the CEO of Trenchant Media also reigned as the chairman of the board, and the chairman had the voting power to appoint and remove board members. Trent had thought of that and included a clause in our original twenty-one page contract that nullified this policy.
He must’ve thought I was a fucking moron or that I was too spineless to try to deceive him, because the pompous prick never checked the final draft of the contract. Never noticed I’d rephrased that clause, only slightly but just enough. Enough to slant its meaning into vague nothingness.
I needed the CEO position to appoint myself head of the board. So I could remove him. All of them. Strip their rights the way they’d stolen mine. Without their power base at Trenchant, Collin and I could fight them, maybe get our freedom back. Marry who we wanted. Just thinking about it made my heart thump.
Until then, I had to play along with their demands and fill the role of dutiful daughter.
I tugged my phone from my purse on the way out, dialing as I walked down the hall toward my office.
“Morning, love.” Collin’s voice brushed against my ear like silk. “Everything okay?”
He knew about his father’s threat, about the purchased evidence that placed him at the scene of an unsolved murder. He had no alibi, no proof of innocence, and no defense. Outside of that, he was in the dark about what I did for our parents, what I planned to do.
I hated keeping things from him, but I didn’t do it to betray his trust. If Trenchant found itself caught in a scandal for its unethical business practices, his ignorance would protect him. That was what my dishonesty gave him. Blissful ignorance.
“Yeah.” I tried to put a smile in my voice. “Everything’s fine. I was just thinking about your police brutality segment tonight. Do you remember Dave O’Neil?”
“Leon, dammit, where are you going? Hang on, Kaci.” The phone muffled. “Why didn’t you turn back there? We’re going to get caught in traffic—”
Judging by the sudden silence, he’d covered the mouthpiece to yell at the limo driver. I grinned. God, he was a horrible backseat driver.
Scratching sounded through the speaker, and he said, “Dave O’Neil? Was that the cop who escorted you undetected from a race a few months back?”
I’d been pulled over that night. Trying to flee the scene at 150 miles per hour. Detained by Officer O’Neil, who I’d paid off to let me go without mentioning my name in a report. “Yeah. I kind of owe him, and I know he’d shit himself to be on the Anderson Angle.”
“You want me to interview him instead of Daniel Wyatt?” His voice lowered, his words drawn out with reservation.
“I’m sure the makeup crew could give him a real-looking mustache.” I strode into my office and shut the door.
“Funny.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Kaci. I don’t know anything about the guy, and I only have a few hours to write the script.”
I’d had Officer O’Neil investigated after that night to cover my tracks. Five kids, clean record, never shot a man while on duty. Exactly the kind of officer my mother’s right-wing supporters would approve of. “A five minute phone call with him, and the great Collin Anderson will be able to infer what toothpaste he uses and what his favorite sports team is.”