discussing the will, shouldn’t my mother come?”
Mark and Leanne regarded the lawyer, who remained silent. After a moment, Mark looked toward the doorway where rain continued to mist the air.
“Honey.” Her mother laid a hand on Leanne’s arm. “I don’t think I’m mentioned in the will.”
Leanne stilled. It wasn’t possible. Even Lionel Collins couldn’t be that cruel. She awaited the lawyer’s denial, but Mr. Benton shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
She gazed at her mom’s tranquil expression, knowing the hurt it must conceal. Glancing around for someone to contradict this idiocy, she saw Mark looking at her with compassion. No, his concern wasn’t aimed at her.
“My grandfather was a hard man,” he said to her mother, “as you may know. I’m sorry he’s done this to you.”
Her mother’s lips quavered. “You’re a kind man, Mr. Collins.”
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid I’m too much like my grandfather.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t think so. Not in the ways that matter.”
Leanne stared at them, disbelieving. What kind of mutual-admiration crap was this? Granted, it wasn’t Mark’s fault her mother had been slighted, but she’d always thought of the Collinses as the enemy. Now here were her mom and the grandson making eyes at each other.
A kind man, she fumed. As though her mother knew anything about him. And him offering compassion as though he could possibly understand their lives. He’d grown up with his parents and grandparents, attending private schools, with privilege and wealth. Her mother had struggled as a hairdresser, living in a small house in a fading middle-class suburb.
“I’m going home,” her mother said. “Call me when you can.”
“Mom—”
“Now, dear, you go on. Mr. Benton probably has a lot to explain to you.”
Her mother disappeared after shaking hands with the men, while Leanne stood in disbelief. She’s left me to the wolves.
Mark shook his head. He couldn’t imagine even the Lion doing something this heartless. His grandfather’s nickname came as much from his way of doing business—territorially, with a snarl and show of fangs for anyone who got too close—as from his given name of Lionel or his mane of blond hair.
Leanne had inherited his hair, along with whatever else he’d left her. Her face had gone white when she’d realized Jenny had been slighted, and her lips had tightened. He had the overwhelming urge to caress her cheek, not only to comfort her, but to enjoy its softness against his fingers.
He cleared his throat, drawing Leanne’s attention. Her green eyes appeared darker, with the black center more pronounced than before. Could she be in shock?
She turned to Todd. Her stiff posture and angry expression—not shock, after all—proclaimed her eagerness to get away from them. “Mr. Benton, if you would please send me notice of whatever Lionel felt guilty enough to leave me, I’d appreciate it.”
“Well, you see, that may be a problem.”
“Why?” she asked.
“The terms of Lionel’s will are complicated. It involves two—” He shot a look at Mark. “—uh, inheritances. One is a cash amount. The other is…”
“Spit it out, man.” Mark nearly shook the lawyer. He didn’t trust that furtive glance Todd had given him. Something was up.
“We should really discuss this in my office,” Benton said. “Perhaps we could just ride over there—”
“I need to get back to the luncheon,” Mark said.
“And I have no intention of going anywhere with you two.”
This startled Mark, as well as Benton, judging by the open mouth of the other man.
“I don’t intend to be rude,” Leanne said a little more quietly, “but I also need to go comfort my mother.” She glared at Mark.
He hadn’t meant to be insensitive. He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to ruffle her feathers, but she was incensed. Her first statement about not going anywhere with them rang truer than this half excuse of comforting her mother—even though the poor woman did need consoling, Mark thought.
“Just give her the highlights,” Mark said.
Benton sighed, then nodded. “I suppose as you’re the principles involved, I could do that here. I want you to know I did try to dissuade him, Mark.” He cleared his throat. “Lionel has set you up in competition against each other.”
Mark looked at Leanne. Her furrowed brow told him she shared his confusion. “What competition?”
“There are three tasks you must complete. Whichever of you completes two tasks first, to the satisfaction of the board of directors, wins.”
Mark drew a breath. He had a long association with the Lion’s manipulation tactics. This wouldn’t be good. “Just what do we win?”
Benton straightened. “The winner gets all of Lionel’s stock in the Collins Company and thereby his position as CEO.”
Mark clenched his jaw. “That bastard.”
“Do you mind?” Leanne said. “I really dislike that term.”
He blinked, reminded of her presence. When he caught her meaning, he said, “Sorry. I meant, that son of a bitch.”
She inclined her head. “Thank you.”
He couldn’t look away from her. His competition. For CEO. Dear God, he couldn’t believe it. He’d been training for that position since his father had died ten years before, training with the Lion himself. Now it could all be snatched away from him at the whim of a controlling old bas—son of a bitch.
For years, he’d tried to prove himself worthy of the Collins name. He’d thought his position as successor secure, as he was the only Collins left, other than his mother.
Until Leanne Fairbanks appeared, Lionel’s blood relative. Blood had mattered to Lionel, which was why Mark had tried so hard to make the old man forget his adoption. He’d modeled himself after his father and Lionel. Working all hours, he’d not only burned the midnight oil, but often the 3:00 a.m. oil as well. No matter what successes he achieved, he knew the Lion regarded him as not-quite-a-Collins. He swallowed back his sense of betrayal.
“I don’t suppose there’s been some mistake,” Mark said without much hope.
“No,” Benton said. “Lionel stated very clearly his intentions—”
Leanne opened her mouth, but before a sound could emerge, Mark cut in. “There must be a loophole.”
“The will is airtight, I assure you,” Benton replied.
Leanne made a sound, but Mark turned his back on her. Think. There had to be
