was sorry to hear about your husband,” he said then, and her stomach twisted into a painful knot.
Poor Jon. Poor, poor Jon. If anyone had deserved happiness, it had been him. “Thank you,” she said, the lump in her throat making her words come out tight. Jon had been gone for over a year now, but it still had the power to slice into her when she thought of those last helpless months when the leukemia had ravaged his body. It was so unfair.
She dipped her head a moment, surreptitiously dashing away the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Jon had been her best friend in the world, her partner, and she missed him still. Thinking of Jon reminded her that she had to be as strong as he’d been when facing his illness.
Roman was a man, and men could be defeated. “It won’t work,” she said, her voice fiercer than she’d thought she could manage at that moment.
Roman cocked an eyebrow. So smooth. “What won’t work, darling?”
A shiver chased down her spine. Once, he’d meant the endearment, and she’d loved the way his Russian accent slid across the words as he spoke. It was a caress before the caress. Now, however, he did it to torment her. The words were not a caress so much as a threat.
She turned and faced him head-on, tilting her head back to look him in the eye. He stood with his hands in his pockets, one corner of his beautiful mouth slanted up in a mocking grin.
Evil, heartless bastard. That was what he was now. What she had to think of him as. He wasn’t here to do her any favors. He would not be merciful.
Especially if he discovered her secret.
“You won’t soften me up, Roman,” she said. “I know what you want and I plan to fight you.”
He laughed. “I welcome it. Because you will not win. Not this time.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Funny, I would have never thought your father would step down and leave you in charge. I always thought they would carry him from his office someday.”
A shard of cold fear dug into her belly, as it always did when someone mentioned her father these days. “People change,” she said coolly.
And sometimes those changes were completely unexpected. A wave of love and sadness filled her at the thought of her father, sitting in his overstuffed chair by the window and staring at the lake beyond. Some days he recognized her. Most days he did not.
“In my experience they don’t. Whatever was there at the start will continue to be there in the end.” His gaze slid over her again, and her skin prickled. “People sometimes want you to think they’ve changed, in order to protect themselves, but I find it’s never true.”
“Then you must not know many people,” she said. “We all change. No one stays the same.”
“No, we don’t. But whatever the essence was, that remains. If one is heartless, for instance, one doesn’t suddenly grow a heart.”
Caroline’s skin glowed with heat. She knew he was speaking of her, speaking of that night when she’d thrown his love back in his face. She wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him the truth, but what good would it do? None whatsoever.
“Sometimes things are not as they seem,” she said. “Appearances can be deceptive.”
As soon as she said it, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. His icy eyes grew even frostier as he studied her. “I have no doubt you would know this.”
Fury and sadness warred inside her. The only thing to do was to pretend not to understand his meaning. Caroline gave a superior sniff. “Nevertheless, Daddy has reevaluated his priorities. He’s enjoying himself at his country estate these days. He worked hard for it, and he deserves it.”
There was a lump in her throat. She gritted her teeth and turned to look hopefully for a taxi, willing herself not to cry as she did so. She wasn’t ordinarily overcome with emotion, but thinking about her father’s illness in the presence of this man she’d once loved was a bit overwhelming.
“I had no idea you were interested in taking over the business someday,” Roman said, his tone more than a bit mocking. “I’d rather thought your interests lay elsewhere.”
She whipped around to look at him. “Such as shopping and getting my nails done? That was never my plan.”
It had been her parents’ plan, however. It was simply not done for a Sullivan woman to work. They married well and spent their days doing charitable work, not dirtying their hands in the business. No matter that she’d wanted to learn the business, or that her father had indulged her a bit and let her intern there—because business experience would do her good in her charitable duties, he’d said over her mother’s protests. Jon had always been the one intended to run the department store chain once her father retired.
Which Frank Sullivan would not have done anytime in the next twenty years had the choice not been taken from him. Now that Jon was dead, there was no one else but her. And she was good at what she did, damn it. She had to be.
“You’ve had a bad year,” Roman said softly, and her heart clenched. Yes, she’d had a bad year. But she still had Sullivan’s. More importantly, she had her son. And for him, she would do anything. Sullivan’s would be his one day. She would make sure of it.
“It could always be worse,” she said, not meeting Roman’s hard gaze. She’d told herself repeatedly that things could always be worse just so she could get through the day—but she really didn’t want to know how much worse. Losing a husband to cancer and a father to dementia was pretty damn bad in her book.
“It is worse,” he said. “I’m here. I don’t arrive on the scene until a company is struggling, Caroline. Until profits are squeezed tight and every month is a struggle to pay your suppliers just enough so they’ll keep the shipments coming.”
Caroline blinked. The stores. Of course he was talking about the stores. For a minute, she’d thought he was being sympathetic. But why would he be? She was the last person he’d ever show any compassion for.
And she could hardly blame him, could she? They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms.
Though her heart ached, she feigned a laugh that was as light as the evening breeze. It tinkled gaily, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, when in fact she felt the weight of her cares like an anvil yoked to her neck.
“Oh Roman, really. You’ve done quite well for yourself, but your information cannot always be correct. This time, you are wrong. Dead wrong. You won’t get Sullivan’s, no matter how you try.” She waved a hand toward Fifth Avenue, encompassing the park, the horse-drawn carriage with its load of tourists passing by, and the logjam of cars and trucks packing the avenue. “Times have been bad everywhere, but look around you. This city is alive. These people are working, and they need the kind of goods Sullivan’s provides. They want what we have. Our sales are up twenty percent this quarter. And it will only get better.”
She had to believe that. Her father had made some bad decisions before anyone realized he was ill, and she was working her hardest to fix them. It wasn’t easy, and she wasn’t assured of success, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet, either.
Roman smirked. Literally smirked. “Twenty percent in one store, Caroline. The majority of your stores are suffering. You should have sold off
