teenager, she had relished ripping into her parents, but now she reached for softer words.
Her father continued, “I’ll get input from your sister, of course,” he said. “And see if your brother can be bothered to celebrate his mother’s legacy. However, I wanted to talk to you first and get the ball rolling.”
“Dad, Malcolm Doyle came to see me last week,” Tia said in an attempt to head him off with some facts before he started talk of celebrations. Expensive celebrations.
Immediately, a frown joined the grooves on her father’s wrinkled face at the mention of the company’s head accountant. He turned away from his late wife’s portrait and ran his hand along the smooth wood of the desk she used to sit behind.
Tia pushed on. “Espresso can’t continue like this. The cosmetics division is bleeding red ink. Malcolm says—”
“I’ve already heard what Doyle had to say,” her father barked. “I’m the CEO of this company. He had no right to worry you.”
But she was worried.
The sanctuary day spas, which Tia herself had founded as an offshoot of the makeup brand, were now practically supporting it.
“Back to the anniversary celebration,” her father continued.
“Don’t you see?” Tia interrupted. “If we don’t make some hard decisions, Espresso Cosmetics won’t exist next year.”
He brushed off her concern with the wave of his hand, as if the motion would sweep away their financial problems. “All we need is one hit to get us back on track. The summer campaign will be in stores this week,” he said. “Calypso Moods is going to bring customers back to our counters.”
No. It wouldn’t, Tia thought.
Truth was, there was nothing exciting about the Calypso Moods collection. It was simply a rehash of her mother’s favorite hot-pink and orange lipsticks and blushes with new island-inspired names.
Espresso’s product-research-and-development team had stopped bringing new ideas to her father’s desk knowing they’d be soundly rejected. So they gave him what he wanted, Selina Sinclair Gray–approved products with different names.
“Even if every item of the collection sells out, it won’t be enough to put the cosmetics division in the black,” Tia said. “The cosmetics division is in survival mode here, Dad, and we have to make some hard decisions, all of us.”
Her father leaned against her mother’s desk and crossed his arms. “Don’t go there, Tia,” he warned.
“If we keep siphoning money from the spas to prop up the cosmetics brand, eventually it will drag them down, too.” Tia swallowed hard. She removed the signed authorization form from her tote bag and placed it on her mother’s old desk. “This is the last time, Dad.”
“Who are you to tell me how the money this company makes is spent?” Victor Gray’s voice trembled with rage. “Your mother put me in place to succeed her as CEO. It’s what she wanted.”
“I have plenty of say in how the spas’ profits are disbursed.” Tia pressed on, first reminding him of what he already well knew. “The spas didn’t exist when Mom was alive. I launched them with money from my trust fund, so there can be no monetary transfers without both our signatures,” she reiterated. “And I won’t authorize another dime until we all sit down in one room, you, me, Lola and, yes, even Cole, and figure out Espresso’s future.”
Tia stood strong in the face of her father’s glare. He hadn’t flinched at her words, but he’d heard them all before. So she wasn’t surprised when he dismissed them as a bluff.
“Like I told you the last time you brought this up, I will make any decisions regarding the future of Espresso Cosmetics, and I expect you to continue to help in any way you can, including financially,” he said. “As far as your brother goes, he’s welcome to come back to the company and this family anytime, as long as he understands I’m the CEO.”
“Dad, be reasonable. We can’t go on this way,” Tia pleaded. “Nobody knows this company or the industry better than Cole. He practically grew up in this building. If we’re going to turn this thing around, we will need his help.”
“But your mother thought he was too young to run Espresso. That’s why she—”
“Mom’s dead,” Tia blurted out, cutting him off. “She’s been gone for seven years now, and if we want to save her legacy, we have to stop thinking about what she would have done and do what’s best.”
Her father jerked as if she’d slapped him.
And while Tia regretted the way she’d delivered them, the words needed to be said.
“Get out!” Victor shouted.
His roar shook the floor beneath her feet, but Tia stood rooted to the spot.
“Get out,” he repeated, this time louder. “I want you out of my wife’s office, out of this building and out of my sight.”
Pushing down her hurt, Tia remained. “Cole may have let you drive him away, but I’m not going anywhere. You, me, Lola, Cole—we all need to have a say in how this business is run.”
“If you won’t go, then I will.” Her father walked past her out of her mother’s office. The next sound Tia heard was the door to his own office slamming shut.
Chapter 2
Ethan stared down at his cleared desktop, marveling at the rarely seen wooden surface usually hidden by stacks of paperwork.
Nearly all the items on his vacation-prep list had been completed. Clients briefed, contracts read and no scheduled court appearances for the next two weeks. Even his grandma problem had been tentatively resolved with his visit to Espresso Sanctuary’s offices that morning.
Visions of Tia Gray came to mind, those shapely legs dominating most of them, and Ethan quickly shoved the illicit images aside. He should be focused on wrapping up his afternoon schedule, not imagining a particular pair of legs wrapped around his waist.
Especially when those legs were attached to a woman who had caused nothing but trouble.
He looked down at his open diary and saw that one last appointment remained.
Afterward, he’d follow up with his grandmother and make sure Ms. Gray had indeed done as he’d instructed. Then tomorrow morning he’d set off for Hawaii and his first vacation in years.
Again, his mind drifted to Tia.
Ethan exhaled. Maybe it was a mistake for him to go solo on the trip planned a year ago when he was still part of a couple. That had to be the only reason for his reoccurring thoughts of the woman he’d met today.
He needed to get laid. Soon.
A knock sounded at Ethan’s open office door and the glazed-over expression in the secretary’s eyes indicated his next appointment had arrived.
“I don’t believe it.” His young but normally unflappable secretary
