Claim (A Dangerous Man, #3) by Serena Grey Page A

cry.
    I don’t say anything, even though the comment makes me happy and proud. I ignore her sigh of exasperation at my silence. What’s the point of telling her anything? Soon she’ll have left for another one of their trips, and my life will go back to normal.
    She leaves me alone soon after. They’re going out to a dinner party, and she has to prepare. I go downstairs to find Steve, sure that I won’t run into Henry while he’s locked up in his massive closet trying to decide which one of his hundreds of tuxedos to wear. Steve lives in an apartment over the garage, and sometimes if I plead enough, he relents and teaches me some of his martial arts moves.
    It’s while I’m walking across the lawn towards the garage that I hear the voices. I turn back towards the house, and through their bedroom window, see my mother and Henry arguing. I’m not surprised. They argue a lot. Henry’s a jerk. I can’t stand him, he can’t stand me, and I have no idea how my mother can stand him.
    I’m about to turn away, when I see him raise a hand and strike my mother across the face. I stand there frozen as she holds a hand to her cheek. He turns towards the window, and seeing me, walks towards it and abruptly pulls the curtains closed.
    ~§~§~§~§~
    Someone is trying to take control of my company.
    That’s the thought on my mind as Steve drives through the tree-lined streets of Ashford, the small town where I came to do a friend a favor.
    The favor is Rick Cruzman, a community college dropout who has developed an innovative software application for managing virtual money, and has been trying to market it for months. He got a few minutes to sell it at a mediocre software conference at Ashcroft Hills, a business resort about thirty minutes from Seattle, and because my friend, who’s happily retired from business, asked me to look into him, I took the half hour drive from my office.
    I was also curious, restless, and in need of space to think.
    It didn’t take me long to decide that Rick Cruzman’s software had some potential. After his presentation, I approached him and made an offer. He jumped on it, like I knew he would.
    I turn to look out of the car windows, my mind going back to my original thoughts. Someone has been stealthily acquiring Preston Corp stock directly from shareholders in the open market, operating behind a group of small companies, which I am sure, are all linked to one person. I shouldn’t be worried, I’m the largest shareholder in my company, and I have voting agreements with the majority of the initial investors, giving me total voting control.
    Marshall Banks was one of those original investors, and now, Carole owns his substantial shares. As the second largest shareholder, if she sells, I’ll lose the shares that make up a large amount of my voting power. I could lose control.
    And she knows it.
    The memory of our last phone conversation brings a frown to my face. Carole’s breathy voice sounded smug and self-satisfied as she invited me to lunch. I accepted because if I were a corporate raider intent of wresting control of Preston Corp, I would approach her, as I’m sure someone already has, hence the smugness. I know Carole well enough to know that she wants something in return for not selling.
    I feel a flash of irritation. Carole at her best is selfish and greedy. At her worst, she’s calculating and vindictive. I’d rather not have to deal with her at all, and I plan to make it so that in the future, I don’t have to.
    Steve slows down to take a turn. From the back seat, I can see his smooth shaved head, still the same as when he used to drive me as a teenager. He’s a little bulkier now, but still as taciturn as the day we first met. I’ve stopped trying to imagine what goes on in his head beneath his silence. I know now that there was a time when he was different. He told me himself, in a rare unguarded moment, about his wife and little daughter dying while he was on active duty, when