“She can have more surgery.”
“Yeah, why not?” He stepped on the gas. The Jag shot forward. “You’ve probably figured out that our marriage had more than its share of problems.”
Nick’s jaw tightened. “Cherise mentioned you split a couple of times. What went wrong?”
Alex cut him a hard glance. “Marla’s not the easiest person to live with.”
“But you are.”
“Yeah, right.” Alex snorted. “I guess it doesn’t matter any more. Things are fine now. I only mentioned it because it was bound to come up and I wanted you to hear it from me.”
Nick didn’t comment. He’d seen Alex and Marla embracing in the sitting room just yesterday.
And in the garden you’d damn near kissed her.
Alex guided his car into a parking garage under a gigantic building located just off the Embarcadero. All steel, concrete and glass, the building abutted the financial district and had housed the offices of Cahill Limited for the past seven years when Alex had decided that the small brick building the company had owned for nearly a century wasn’t prestigious enough.
Nick figured the move was one of the major mistakes that had slowed the flow of black ink and turned it into red. The move alone had cost nearly a million dollars, and that was just the start. The lease was astronomical, an amount even an upscale address couldn’t justify. Not in Nick’s mind.
Alex parked in a narrow, reserved space in the basement garage, then Alex led him to an elevator and they were whisked to the third floor and double glass doors etched with the company logo.
Alex paused long enough to introduce Nick to his secretary and collect his messages, then showed Nick to an expansive corner suite that held a large desk, grouping of couch, table and two chairs, full bar and credenza that angled around a corner. Alex Cahill’s private domain, Nick thought. Behind the desk, a bank of windows made the most of a view of the city. Rooftops in varying elevations allowed glimpses of the Bay through the drizzling fog.
“There are worse places to work,” Alex observed, ridding himself of his coat and scarf.
“Much.”
“I know what you’re thinking. That this is all eyewash, costs too much, and that the offices should move to a low rent district somewhere around the Bay, or maybe at the old place.” He hung his things in a closet that was larger than Nick’s at his house. “Believe me, I’ve considered it, b
ut the convenience of being here, in the heart of the city, the contacts I’ve made in this building alone, the prestige of being a part of the financial district all have their rewards. And I’m close to the house, can be involved with the kids more than I could have before. Now, with Marla recuperating, that’s a real plus.” He shut the closet door and slid behind the desk, automatically flipping on his computer as he motioned Nick into one of the leather chairs.
As Alex glanced at the stock quotes on the computer screen, Nick noticed an array of pictures displayed on the credenza. Pictures of Alex shaking hands with the governor, standing in front of a Lear jet, in golf attire with a group of men, and then there was the family portrait. Marla, Cissy and Alex, taken over ten years ago, against a pure white backdrop. Cissy wasn’t quite a toddler and rested, in full, frilly, pink regalia, on Marla’s lap. Round-eyed and innocent, with apple cheeks and raised eyebrows, the baby had curiosity abounding in her expression. In direct opposition to her father. With one hand on Marla’s shoulder, Alex, dressed in a black suit, stood behind her, his pose proprietary, his spine stiff, pride oozing from his smug, well-practiced smile. But Nick’s gaze was drawn to the woman in the center of the photo. Not a lock of rich, mahogany hair was out of place. Her arms surrounded her daughter and her eyes, vibrant green, twinkled. Her smile offered just a hint of white teeth as she posed, the perfect corporate wife in a sedate black dress, creating an illusion that Nick knew hid the real woman deep inside.
“That was taken on Cissy’s first birthday,” Alex observed. “Twelve years ago.”
“The happy family.”
“Most of the time.”
“You’ll have to have another one taken.”
Alex’s eyebrows drew together for a second as if he didn’t quite catch on. “Oh, because of the baby. Right. I suppose so.” Tenting his hands under his chin and leaning back in his desk chair, he scowled. “Guess with all my other problems, I wasn’t really thinking about a photo shoot. Now, I’ve told the staff that you’re to have full access to anything you need and you can either work in the boardroom, or I can find a spare office.”
“The boardroom’ll do as long as I can take files out of the office.”
Alex scratched his chin. “On the condition that you move into your old room in the house. I’d rather not have company records at the hotel, lying around for anyone to see, or move, or maybe even steal. It’s not that I don’t trust you, you know, but it’s a matter of security.”
“You already gave me some of the files,” Nick said, not buying the excuse for a second.
“I know. I’ve had second thoughts.”
“Bullshit.” Nick’s jaw slid to one side and was reminded that his brother, before joining the family business, had been a successful corporate lawyer. “Why are you and Mother so hell-bent that I move into the house?”
Alex hesitated.
“It’s a control issue, isn’t it? Not over the files, but over me.”
With a snort, Alex said, “You’ve always been a suspicious bastard.”