LITMIR.BIZ

      For Pippa, international pony of mystery and cherished member of our family

      One

      “There is one good thing about this situation.” RJ Kincaid slammed his phone down on the conference table, his voice cracking with fury.

      “What’s that?” Brooke Nichols stared at her boss. She failed to see a bright side.

      “Now we know things cannot possibly get any worse.” His eyes flashed and he leaned forward in his chair. The other staff in the meeting sat like statues. “My calls to the prosecutor’s office, the police, the courts, the state senator—have all been ignored.”

      He stood and marched around the table. “The Kincaid family is under siege and they’re firing on us from all angles.” Tall and imposing at the best of times, with bold features, dark hair and smoky slate-blue eyes, RJ now looked like a general striding into battle. “And my mother, Elizabeth Winthrop Kincaid, the finest woman in Charleston, will be spending tonight behind bars like a common criminal.”

      He let out a string of curses that made Brooke shrink into her chair. She’d worked for RJ for five years and she’d never seen him like this. Normally he was the most easygoing man you could meet, never rattled by even the most intense negotiations, with time for everyone and a nonchalant approach to life.

      Of course that was before his father’s murder and the revelation that his privileged and entitled existence was founded on lies.

      RJ walked over to his brother Matthew. “You’re the director of new business—is there any new business?”

      Matthew inhaled. They both knew the answer. Even some of their most stalwart clients had fled the company in the aftermath of the scandal. “There is the Larrimore account.”

      “Yes, I suppose we do have one new account to hang our hopes on. Greg, how are the books looking?” RJ strode around to the CFO and for a moment she thought he was going to collar him.

      Mild-mannered Greg shrank into his chair. “As you know, we’re experiencing challenges—”

      “Challenges!” RJ cut him off, raising his hands in the air in a dramatic gesture. “That’s one way of looking at it. A challenge is an opportunity for growth, a time to rise up and seize opportunity, to embrace change.”

      He turned and walked back across the room. Everyone sat rigid in their chairs, probably praying he wouldn’t accost them.

      “But what I see here is a company on the brink of going under.” RJ shoved a hand through his thick, dark hair. His handsome features were hard with anger. “And all of you are just sitting in your chairs taking notes as if we’re at some garden party. Get up and get out there and do something, for Chrissakes!”

      No one moved an inch. Brooke rose from her chair, unable to stop herself. “Urn …” She had to get him out of here. He was acting like a jerk and if he continued like this he’d do himself permanent harm in the company.

      “Yes, Brooke?” He turned to face her, and lifted an eyebrow. His eyes met hers and a jolt of energy surged in her blood.

      “I need to speak to you outside.” She picked up her laptop and headed for the door, heart pounding. He could probably fire her on the spot in his current mood, but she wasn’t doing her job if she let him insult and harangue employees who were already under a lot of pressure and stress through no fault of their own.

      “I’m sure it can wait.” He frowned and gestured to the gathered meeting.

      “Just for a moment. Please.” She continued toward the door, hoping he’d follow.

      “Apparently my assistant’s need to consult with me in private is more urgent than the imminent collapse of The Kincaid Group, and the imprisonment of my mother. Since it’s the end of the day I’m sure you also have better places to be. Meeting dismissed.”

      RJ moved to the door in time to hold it open for her. A wave of heat and adrenaline rose inside her as she passed him, her arm almost brushing against his. He closed the door and followed her out. In the hush of the carpeted hallway Brooke almost lost her nerve. “In your office, please.”

      “I don’t have time to loll about in my office. My mother’s in the county jail in case you hadn’t noticed.”

      Brooke reminded herself his rudeness was the result of extreme stress. “Trust me. It’s important.” Her own firm tone surprised her. She walked ahead into the spacious corner

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