“Okay,” Cade said after a moment.
“Yeah,” Zach said, “sure. It’ll give us the chance to see Kyra again. No matter how many times I talk to her on the phone, I’m still not convinced she’s all right.”
Grant nodded. “I agree. She sounds too cheerful. Like somebody whistling in a graveyard.”
“Exactly.” Cade’s voice hardened. “Hell, I’d like to get my hands on the son of a bitch who hurt her!”
Zach and Grant agreed. After a round of goodbyes, they all hung up.
Grant swung his chair around, stood, and walked toward the man at the window.
“Okay,” he said pleasantly, and held out his hand. “It’s a go. My brothers and I will be in Denver next Friday morning. I’m sure everything will work out as you hope, señor.”
Antonio Rodrigo Cordoba del Rey looked at Grant Landon’s outstretched hand. He would kill me if he knew what I have done to his sister, he thought, and for a moment, he felt as if a knife had twisted in his heart. But then he remembered what Kyra had done to him, the bitterness he felt whenever he thought of her, and he smiled and accepted Grant’s hand.
“I am sure things will work out exactly as I hope,” he said.
Grant nodded. He hoped so, too. The sooner they unloaded Landon’s, the happier they’d all be. Besides, there was something about Antonio del Rey that suggested he was a man who damned near always got what he wanted.
He had no way of knowing that what Antonio wanted now was revenge.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANTONIO arrived for the meeting early, by design.
He ignored the flustered receptionist’s assurance that she was sure the Landons would be arriving at any moment, and asked to be shown to the boardroom, where the meeting was to take place.
It was important to his plan to have the high ground. There would be a psychological advantage, however slight, in greeting Kyra’s brothers on their own territory instead of being greeted by them.
And Antonio wanted every advantage he could manage. It would heighten the pleasure of what came next.
He was surprised at the coldly elaborate architecture and furnishings of the massive room. He had expected something simpler after seeing Grant’s New York law office, but then, Grant had partners. Perhaps they didn’t share the Landon taste for pretension. This room was meant to impress if not intimidate.
But Antonio was not easily impressed, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been intimidated. In fact, the room had just the opposite effect. It made him remember, with icy clarity, Kyra’s rejection of him and everything he was.
His mouth narrowed. He had been consumed with anger the day she’d left him, but as time passed, that anger had turned into a hard knot lodged in his belly. He knew it was there, like a slow-acting poison, eating away at his gut, and there was nothing he could do to purge himself of it.
And then one day, one of his attorneys had stumbled across the solution without even being aware of it. No one knew what had happened between him and Kyra Landon except, perhaps, Dolores, who was smart enough to ask no questions.
Antonio had been at a meeting in Atlanta that had ended, as such meetings often did, with suggestions for new ventures. Milton Chaffee had put a folder on the table. He’d said he’d come across something intriguing. There was a company for sale with holdings in a dozen different areas—manufacturing, real estate, oil and gas, even movies.
Antonio had hardly paid attention. He’d found himself less interested in new endeavors the past months; that, too, was Kyra’s fault. He was so consumed with his hatred of her that anything else seemed an intrusion.
But he’d tuned in enough to hear Chaffee say that the company was showing signs of fatigue.
“It’s being neglected, Antonio. I can’t get a handle on all the ins and outs but the bottom line seems to be that the original owner was deeply involved in running it. But his heirs—his sons—don’t believe in getting their hands dirty.”
Antonio had tried to curb his impatience. “Is there a point to all this, Milton?”
Chaffee smiled. “I had a business prof once, used to call it the ‘Spoiled Brat’ syndrome. The old man works his ass off, makes a zillion bucks so his kids will have a better life than he had and then it turns out he’s done such a good job that his la-di-da offspring are only interested in la dolce vita.”
“Milton…”
“Okay, okay. Look, the company’s for sale for a fat asking price, but it’s developing big problems on half a dozen fronts. A company this size in private ownership needs an interested guy at the helm, know what I mean?”
“And? Why should we want to buy it—I assume that is what you’re leading up to, is it not? If the cost is high and the problems are great…”
Chaffee leaned closer. “I’ve got contacts, Antonio. The heirs want to sell so bad they’d kiss the buyers.”
“So? Wait until they drop the price a couple of million dollars.”
“My contacts assure me they’d do better than that with some prompting.” Chaffee winked. “They also tell me that the production company this outfit owns out in La La Land is gonna hit with a low-budget flick that will make the big studios drool. There’s even a rumor that it has a rinky-dink oil operation in Texas ready to bring in a well that’ll make the commodities market go wild.”
“Surely the heirs know this?”
“They never even go into the office, Antonio I’m telling you, they want out.”
It was the sort of deal that would once have fascinated Antonio. Now, he could only think of how little he wanted to do with fools such as the brothers Chaffee was describing, men born to wealth and privilege who didn’t know how to husband it while others suffered through life.
He rose to his feet. “Thank you for the information, Milton, but I am not interested.”
“Antonio, let me run the figures past you. We could take it for a song, squeeze the current owners until they cried for mercy.”
“I do not do business that way,” Antonio said coldly.
“Don’t squeeze ’em, then! We could still buy Landon Enterprises for a fraction of what it’s worth and—”
“Landon Enterprises?” Antonio had said, his face suddenly white.
“Yeah. Based in Colorado. Will you at least listen?”
Antonio had listened. Then he’d taken Chaffee’s folder and shoved it into his briefcase.
“I will think about it,” he’d said in a way that meant the discussion was over.
Back on San Sebastian, he’d spent days going through the Landon figures and nights thinking about how he might use them.
The company, once as rich as Croesus, was faltering. Chaffee seemed to be right; Landon’s had been led by one man. Now, Charles Landon’s sons were letting their father’s empire fall into disarray. There was little in the files about them but Antonio had no difficulty picturing what they were: spoiled brats who had never quite grown up, accustomed to privilege and without any thought of ever living without it.
Like their sister.
Was Kyra heir to Landon Enterprises, too? It seemed likely. Her brothers were probably running it without her presence—what would a woman like Kyra know of business?
Antonio paced the gardens at San Sebastian while he tried to decide what to do next. He could ride in like a knight on a charger, save Landon Enterprises by offering an infusion of cash at low interest or by buying it at the ridiculously high asking price.
Or he could do just the opposite—bring Kyra and her brothers to their knees.
What would happen to her precious expectations when she realized that the man she’d treated with such contempt could save her or savage her with the stroke of a pen?
It was a cruel plan. A malevolent one. And he was not proud of it.
Yet he had known instantly that he would do it.
Had there been time, he’d have done more groundwork, instructed Chaffee to start some carefully placed rumors about Landon’s imminent collapse. But time
was a luxury he didn’t have. If word about the possible oil strike or successful movie got out, others would be interested in buying Landon’s, too.
Antonio couldn’t let that happen. He wanted Kyra’s family, and Kyra, at his mercy. And so he’d made a few calls to some people he knew, gotten some papers together. Then he’d phoned Grant Landon and set up an appointment.
And now he was here, in this pretentious boardroom, about to meet with what he had already begun thinking of as the Landon Spoiled Brats.
Antonio frowned. Except that the one brother he’d already met, Grant, hadn’t been what he’d expected. Grant seemed pleasant and quick-witted, and he had a handshake that suggested he’d done more with his life than lie in the sun. His law firm was small but Antonio had learned it was highly placed, with an assortment of solid, demanding clients.
“Antonio. Sorry we weren’t here to greet you.”
Antonio turned from the window. Grant stood in the doorway with two men who had to be his brothers. And there was a woman standing just behind them.
His heart rose into his throat. Kyra, he thought, Kyra…
But it wasn’t Kyra. It was a polite young secretary, carrying a small tape recorder.
Antonio shook his head. “This will be a closed meeting,” he said sharply.
The Landons looked at him, their eyes narrowing. Then Grant nodded and motioned the young woman from the room.
“All right,” he said. “We can rough out the preliminaries and go on record later.” The door shut and he and his brothers moved forward. “Antonio del Rey, these are my brothers, Cade and Zach.”
The handshakes were perfunctory. Cade and Zach looked at each other. What was with this guy? He had requested this meeting; now he was behaving as if he’d sooner have been anyplace but here.
Everyone took a seat at the mahogany conference table. Grant cleared his throat, launched into some opening remarks, and Antonio spoke right across them.
“I would prefer to get directly to the point,” he said. And without any preliminaries, he made his purchase offer.
There was a silence, and then the three Landons began to laugh.
“You’re kidding,” Zach said.
Antonio shook his head. “I am quite serious.”
“Well, then, the discussion is over. There’s not a way in the world we’d—”