ago, before she realized he wasn’t interested in marriage. Now she was married to a sixty-three-year-old oil magnate. One of Cain Enterprises’ board members, as a matter of fact. Which worked nicely in Grant’s favor, since he got along well with the man.
“I have gossip for you,” she said.
“You know I’m not interested in gossip.”
“This is about the Cains. And even though you’ll hear it soon enough, I desperately want to be the first one to share it with you.” She jutted out her lip. “Please.”
Grant glanced across the room and saw Becca’s husband deep in conversation with one of Houston’s congressmen. He turned his attention back to Becca. “You look like you need a drink.”
She smiled, clearly delighted that she’d snagged his attention as he headed off to the bar. Five minutes later, he returned with a glass of pinot grigio. Becca actually preferred tequila but never drank it in public. At least, not at this kind of event. Like him, Becca had grown up on the fringes of Houston society. Just rich enough to be included but not rich enough to be an equal. Both of their families had once been old money, but had fallen on hard times. They’d stayed in the social loop, but at the bottom of the pecking order. In so many ways, Becca was his equal. He’d clawed his way back to wealth with ruthless business practices. She’d done it with an advantageous marriage. Neither was particularly proud of their means or motives, but they understood one another. Years ago, he’d thought he and Becca would have been a match made in heaven if they hadn’t both been too ambitious to settle for someone as low on the social pecking order as they themselves were. Though, obviously, neither of them was pining away for the other. They were both doing just fine on their own. Which was another reason Becca was perfect for him. There was a lot to be said for a woman he could walk away from without missing.
She took a sip of her drink and smiled blandly. “Thank you.”
“And now your news?”
“Do you remember the rumors I told you a few years ago about Hollister losing his marbles when he found out he had a daughter?”
“Of course. He threatened to disinherit all three of his sons unless one of them found her and brought her back to the family.”
“Exactly.” Becca tapped her hand against his arm, her eyes lighting up with delight. “Which was great news for you. The rumors have gone a long way to destabilizing Cain Enterprises. It doesn’t help that Dalton resigned as president and Griffin had to take over.”
“Though Griffin has been more competent as president than anyone could have predicted,” Grant admitted begrudgingly.
“The point is, Hollister is unstable and losing touch with reality.”
“Which I’ve known for years.”
“But that may change, and soon.” She leaned forward and whispered. “If you’re going to make your move against Cain Enterprises, you need to do it now.”
“Why?” The longer rumors circulated about Hollister’s poor health and poorer business decisions, the better it would be for Grant.
“Because they found the missing Cain heiress.”
For an instant, his heart froze in his chest. Then it started thudding again, slowly. “No. They didn’t.”
He was sure they hadn’t found her. There was no way they could have found her without his hearing about it first.
Those rumors about Hollister having a daughter had spurred his own search for her. Because he had access to his own father’s business and personal records from about the time the heiress would have been born, Grant had managed to track Meg down early in the game. He may have initially planned to use her against the Cains, but all that had changed when he’d started to fall for her.
Even though he’d walked away, he felt... proprietary. He’d kept an eye on her. After all, Sheppard Bank and Trust had two locations in Victoria, one of them right across the square from her pie shop. Both the bank manager and the security guards had been told to keep an eye out for anyone from the Cain family—ostensibly because of fears about corporate espionage. Surely he would have heard if the Cain family had been within a hundred yards of Meg and her little pie shop.
He knew the Cains and he knew Meg. Was it really so bad that he wanted to protect her from them?
“Yes, they did.” Becca grinned, her gaze lit with malicious glee. “In fact, she’s here tonight.” Becca nodded in the direction of the dance floor. “Right over there. She was dancing with Dalton the last time I saw her. See for yourself.”
“She’s here tonight?”
“The whole family is here for her introduction to society.” Becca flicked her hair over her shoulder, feigning disinterest. “A little premature, I think. Apparently they just found her this week. And I’d swear that dress she has on is one Portia wore two years ago.”
Becca kept talking, but Grant stopped listening. Instead, he gazed over the heads of the crowd, trying to get a look at the woman Becca was talking about.
It wasn’t Meg. He knew that much. It just couldn’t be.
But—it occurred to him for the first time since he’d left Victoria over two years ago—there might be another heiress somewhere. It was entirely possible that Hollister had fathered more than one bastard daughter he didn’t know about. It was possible the Cains had found some other girl who was still Hollister’s.
They weren’t stupid enough to try to pass off some random woman as his daughter. Not when genetic testing was affordable and the results could be had practically overnight. But there might actually be more than one daughter.
He took a long sip of his tequila and considered. For the past two years, he’d played the long game. He’d planned on the Cains being so involved in this search that he could quietly buy up stock and wait for the company to be rocky enough that he could step in and simply take over. If Hollister died first and disinherited his sons, so much the better.
It had not played out as he’d planned. Hollister was too stubborn to die and Griffin too competent to run Cain Enterprises into the ground.
Still, Grant now owned a healthy chunk of the company. He’d swayed at least three of the seven board members to his side. He almost had it.
And now this.
Some mystery woman messing up his plans.
He excused himself from Becca and started making his way across the room, determined to see just who the Cains had dug up, consoling himself with this one thought: whoever she was, at least their machinations wouldn’t hurt Meg.
No matter what happened, no matter how this went down—no matter how he took down Cain Enterprises—at least Meg wouldn’t be caught in the cross fire.
Then the crowd parted and he could see the dance floor. He spotted Dalton moving across the floor with a tiny woman in his arms. Her hair, swept up into an elaborate topknot, was dyed a shade of auburn just a little too brassy to be natural. It had one streak of black running through it.
Then Dalton twirled the woman around and Grant got a look at her face.
Shit.
