Freight I’d know about it. Now, if you’re finished, I’ll call that taxi.”
Helena bit back the sharp retort that sprang to mind and took a breath before continuing, “Hear me out, please. You’ll have heard that Evan took over the managing director duties. You know that was never Patrick’s intention. He always knew that if Evan assumed charge that he’d find some way to cut Brody out, to use any profit for his own means. It’s what he’s doing now. He’s systematically bleeding the company dry. There’ll be nothing left in a few months time. Nothing.” Helena dug into her handbag and withdrew a typed sheet of paper. “It’s why Patrick left specific instructions on his death to give you this.”
She watched as Mason’s eyes flew over the letter she’d been given by Patrick’s lawyer after the will had been read.
“Anyone could’ve typed this. Even you. Why would he have wanted me to run Davies Freight?”
Helena watched as Mason discarded the letter to let it flutter onto the coffee table.
“I didn’t make it up, you have to believe me. Patrick never expected to die so suddenly. He was fit, he was healthy—he expected to live for years more. To have the opportunity to start to groom Brody to take over from him in the future, the way he’d hoped you would until you set up your own firm. But you know how cautious he was. He wouldn’t have asked you to do this if he hadn’t thought it was important.
“You have to believe me. Evan’s after blood. You know he’s always been jealous of his father’s relationship with me and with Brody. He wants to hurt us.”
“Hurt you? C’mon, Helena. I think you’re overstating things. Besides, wouldn’t it be easier if you just stayed on Evan’s side? It’s the way people like you operate, isn’t it?”
Helena ignored the hurtful inference in Mason’s words. As difficult as it was, she had to school herself to be immune to his jibes, no matter how far they were from the truth. She sighed. “You don’t know Evan like I do.”
“And of course you know him exceptionally well, don’t you.”
Oh no, now he’d definitely gone too far. She leaped from her seat and met him face-to-face, shaking with anger. “Don’t you dare suggest that! I would never…I could never…”
“Never?” Mason didn’t move so much as a muscle, his voice low and filled with disgust. “You slept with me the night before you pledged yourself to a much older man. A man who could never keep pace with your physical needs. Why wouldn’t you turn to someone else? Especially someone who stood to inherit equally with your own son.”
“No! I loved Patrick. He became the hub of my whole world. I know I did wrong that night. But I wasn’t the only one to blame. I didn’t act responsibly, that’s true, but I never heard you cry ‘stop’. You can’t possibly still hold that night against me.”
“Can’t I? I wasn’t the one getting married the next day.”
Tears burned in the back of her eyes but she wouldn’t give in to them. Too much was at stake. Besides, he was wrong. Despite what she’d thought when she’d entered into her marriage she had loved Patrick. If she could have him back in a minute she would. She owed it to him—for everything he’d done for her, for the wonderful man he’d been—she had to get Mason to agree to help and somehow do it without giving Evan the chance to spread his malicious story and destroy her son’s remaining security. She had to appeal to Mason some other way. Patrick must have known how he’d react. In his letter to her he’d been insistent she tell Mason the truth. But at what cost? She drew a steadying breath, deep into her lungs, and turned to face him.
“Please, Mason. Please help. I need your expertise and acumen. You’re the only one who can make a difference now. This is Brody’s inheritance we’re talking about. His whole life lies ahead of him.”
“So you’re telling me you’re not affected by this? You’re only doing it for Brody? Your platinum card won’t suddenly dry up without that astronomical salary Patrick paid you to decorate a desk at the office? I’m not a fool, Helena. The only person this will make a difference to is you. I’m sure Patrick left Brody more than well provided for.”
“Of course. Patrick left both of us well provided for. But you know how much the business meant to him. From Brody’s birth he groomed him to take over one day. You can’t simply stand there and let that slip from Brody’s future. Besides, this isn’t only about Brody and me. Any damage to Davies Freight is going to affect far more people than just me. You have to help.”
“Have to? And why is that?”
A painful throb started in her head. She didn’t want to do this, but Patrick’s instructions had been explicit. She still hadn’t even completely gotten over the shock of his letter herself, or the fact that he’d kept the truth hidden from her for so long. That he had, hung heavy in her heart. Gathering all her strength to her, Helena reached out and grasped Mason’s forearm in a tight grip.
“Isn’t it enough that Patrick asked for your help?”
He flung her a look of absolute distaste. “Through you? No. It’s not. I think you overestimate your appeal.”
Helena’s fingers tightened as she hauled out the courage to say what needed to be said. “Then do it because Brody’s your son.”
Two
Your son. Your son.
The words echoed in his head, drowning out the roaring denial that filled his brain. Somewhere, deep inside, an intangible flicker leaped at the possibility, but then the heated brand of her fingers fought through the fog of shock to remind him she was there. A part of this—potentially a part of him through Brody—and he didn’t trust her. Not so much as a millimetre.
She’d dealt with her grief in record time—it made sense she was on the lookout for her next cash cow, of course she’d look to pin something as outrageous as this on him. There was no way on this wide earth he was going to fall for that one—he’d seen firsthand how destructive a lie like that could be. He placed his hand over hers, peeled her fingers off his arm and dropped her hand.
“I don’t believe you.” He pitched his voice low and hard so she’d be in no doubt that he could be dissuaded.
She started and paled, as if he’d slapped her.
“You don’t…?”
“You’ve wasted enough of my time, Helena. Now get out of my house.” He banked down the anger. He simply wanted her to take her lies and her sexy body somewhere he’d never have to hear them, or see her, again. He stalked across the room, snapped up the handset of a cordless phone and began punching in a series of numbers. “You can wait in the front porch for the taxi.”
“No.”
His finger hovered over the last digit. “No?”
“I’m not going until you agree to help.”
Fury clenched low in his belly like a tight fist. If he had to take her physically from the property himself he’d damn well do it. He dropped the phone back on the side table he’d snatched it from and began to walk toward her, his intent obvious in every step.
“I have
