with a bit of weight to it?”
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “You’ve taken me by surprise. And at this time of night! You could have rung.”
“And have you hang up? No way! Drink, Mel. Single malt Scotch if you’ve got it.”
She moved away, anxious to break eye contact. “So Noel lent you the Cessna?” Noel was the Devereaux patriarch. Dev, his great-nephew and godson, was the apple of his eye. Noel Devereaux had two daughters, but no son to succeed him. He adored his girls, both married to the right people, but it was a son he had longed for. Now he had Dev, since Dev had packed up and stormed off Kooraki. There was no love lost between Gregory Langdon and Noel Devereaux, both rich, powerful men.
“I do most of the flying these days. Noel is a good guy.”
“It must be a big help having you around the place,” she pointed out dryly. “Word is, you virtually run Westhaven.”
“So?”
“So I thought congratulations might be in order?”
“I’m not an employee, sweetheart.” Dev’s tone was laconic. “I’m family. Uncle Noel actually wants to hand over control.”
“You mean retire?” she asked in genuine surprise.
He shrugged. “Not exactly, but Diane wants to travel. She wants them to spend much more time together—see more of their girls and their grandchildren. The time appears to be right for Noel to hand over the reins.”
“To you, obviously.”
“The girls aren’t interested, neither are the husbands, very successful city men. It’s control, anyway, not ownership.”
She didn’t risk another comment. “Can I get you something else?” He had come a long way. And for her. Though it was as if she had little say in the matter.
“A ham sandwich, maybe? Could I grab a cup of black coffee, as well? You doing okay, Mel?”
“Wonderfully well, thank you, Dev.” She maintained a cool control.
“So look at me. I always know when you’re telling big fat lies.”
“No lie. I’m highly regarded at Greshams.” Mel began to assemble the makings of a ham, cheese and wholegrain mustard sandwich. The coffee would take only a few moments. “I’ll feed you, then I wish you’d find yourself a hotel, Dev.”
He pressed his back into the plush leather sofa with an exaggerated sigh of comfort. “Sorry, Amelia. I’m staying here. I need some sleep. Speaking of sleep, it’s not too late for you to say you’ll sleep with me.”
“Get it straight, Dev. I won’t.” Mel’s answer was remarkably breezy considering how she felt. She walked back, handing him a good measure of Glenfiddich over a few ice cubes.
He raised his remarkable eyes to her. “Many thanks, dear heart.”
Knowing him so well, she observed, “You’re upset.”
He took a long gulp of whisky before replying. “Why wouldn’t I be? I owe him. You owe him. He cared about you. You were such a feisty little kid.”
“So what went wrong, Dev?” she asked with some bitterness.
They were back on well-trodden ground. “We all know that,” Dev gritted out.
“Your grandmother hated my mother and me.”
His expression darkened. “She feared your mother. I’d say she had a certain respect for you, you little terror!”
“Well, she’s gone now and soon your grandfather will join her. They’ll lie together in the family plot, if nothing else. You’re talking about running Westhaven. Surely you’ve considered your grandfather could have planned on handing Langdon Enterprises to you.”
“After our bust-up?” he said, draining the rest of the Scotch. “Many harsh words were spoken.”
“You’ve never told me what it was all about.” She tried to fix his gaze but did not succeed.
How could he? Dev thought, leaning forward to place his crystal tumbler on the table, with its small collection of art books. Mel had more than enough to handle. Better he never told her. It was all so sick and sad.
“Okay, so you won’t!” she said, her nerves frayed. “But, trust me on this, Dev. We both know your father has always found walking in your grandfather’s shadow very heavy going. It’s not in his nature or his area of expertise to step into Gregory’s shoes.”
Dev wasn’t having any of it. “Dad will inherit as a matter of course,” he said as though it were written in stone. “My father is the legitimate heir.”
“Maybe, in the normal way, but your grandfather isn’t going to allow his hard-won empire to fall apart. He needs someone to run it after he’s gone. That someone is you.”
Dev punched one fist into the other. “Dad has worked his butt off.”
“I know.”
Dev loved his mild-mannered father. He had always been very protective of him, even as a child. Erik Langdon was a long way from being incompetent, but it had proved impossible for him to emulate his dynamic father, a man with the Midas touch. Erik lacked the specific qualities it took to be the man at the very top of the chain. He had once gone on record as saying it was like trying to drive a vehicle uphill with the handbrake on. The Can-Do man had skipped a generation. It was Dev who had inherited all the skills necessary to succeed his tycoon grandfather.
“I’m sure your father will be justly rewarded,” she said, as gently as she could, “but your grandfather won’t cede him control. Want to bet I’m right?”
“Darling Mel, you always are,” Dev drawled. “Let’s get off the subject. Life is just one long series of hurdles for us.”
“It happens when one gets caught up with wealthy, dysfunctional families.” Mel matched him for sarcasm. “I’ll get your sandwich. The coffee will only take a moment.”
“You never intended to go, did you?”
She could have shown him her packing. Instead, she said, “I don’t like letting my mother down.”
“You’ve let me down, haven’t you?” he flashed back. “How many times exactly have you told me you loved me?”
She took a deep breath. “I couldn’t begin to count the number, Dev. But we live on two different levels. We have separate lives. You have an escape valve, being who you are. Soon you’ll be the CEO of Langdon Enterprises, with huge responsibilities, always busy, always travelling thither and yon.”
“Gimme a break, Mel!” His voice held a rasp. “You’re a clever woman. You’d fit in supremely well.”
Her laugh was raw. “Not with the clan, I wouldn’t. They do have a hold on you, Dev. A few of them are major shareholders.”
