would ever be enough to make her father proud of her.
Even if she hadn’t lost her mind, along with a chunk of her memory, on that disastrous night a little over two years ago when she’d discovered Ridley in bed with another woman.
Even if she’d been perfect.
Unable to help herself, she blurted out, “You don’t believe I can run and manage the Kingdom brand, do you, Kingston?”
Roberta leaned forward to murmur, “He doesn’t think any woman can run his precious Kingdom!”
But Georgia couldn’t summon up a smile. There was only a deep, aching hurt—and endless bewilderment.
What about Jay’s role in this? They spent all their working hours arguing, negotiating, talking about every single facet of Kingdom’s business, but he hadn’t been watching her back. He’d been in on her father’s plan...and he hadn’t tipped her off.
How could she have allowed him to render her so vulnerable? She’d grown lax and complacent. She hadn’t even seen this ambush coming.
“What does Kingston think we’ve been doing all these years?” she said softly, for her sister’s ears alone.
Roberta shrugged. “Who knows? He’s always thought women are nothing but pretty decorations.”
“That’s not true!”
Roberta gave her a long look, and then shrugged again. “At least I had a break from working with him every day while I was in Europe. But you and Charis...” She flipped back her strawberry-red hair with her hand. “I don’t know why the hell I ever came back to New York.”
Georgia’s gaze flickered to her father. But he wasn’t paying them any attention. Already on his feet, his face scarlet, he headed toward the exit, chasing after their younger sister with Marcia tottering in his wake.
“Charis!” he bellowed through the open set of double doors. “Get Charis, Marcia. Fetch her back!”
Her father’s PA scuttled to do his bidding, and he swung around. Georgia fell back at the ugly fury on his face. “After everything I’ve done for her!”
It hurt to acknowledge that Charis had always been her father’s favorite...
A strange croak sounded.
Georgia stared at her father. Where his face had been red moments before, now it had turned ashen. He clutched at his chest.
Her breath caught. “Father...?”
As she watched, his knees crumpled.
“Jay, help him!” Georgia shoved back her seat and rushed around the table.
Jay got there first, grasping Kingston beneath his shoulders as he sank to his knees on the carpet.
“The resolutions...” her father gasped.
“Stop worrying about the company,” Georgia said.
“Who’s going to look after Kingdom if—”
“Don’t. Don’t say it.” Fear caused her voice to crack. “Don’t even think it.”
Kingston Kinnear was immortal—a living legend. He couldn’t die.
Her father was struggling to say something.
“Please. Don’t talk.”
“I’m not going to die.” A groan. “I’m more worried about...a takeover.”
Georgia bit back her response. She should’ve guessed he considered himself immortal. “There’ll be no takeover. We’ll take care of—”
His next moan struck terror into her heart.
“Oh, no!” She dropped down next to him, panic making her breathless. His pasty skin had broken into a sweat.
Then Roberta was beside her.
Their father lay on the carpet. Jay had helped him onto his side and was pushing his jacket open, ripping his tie undone.
“Oh, God, he’s having a heart attack!”
Roberta’s gasp rooted Georgia to the ground. Her brain stopped working. All she could think was that she hadn’t done the first aid course she’d sent the rest of the administrative staff on—because she hadn’t had time. She should’ve done it...then she’d have known what to do—instead of kneeling on the sidelines like some kind of lost soul.
“Roberta, can you get his cuff buttons undone and check his pulse?” Jay instructed her sister.
Jay looked as coolly competent as ever—which only made Georgia feel more inadequate. She was falling apart at the seams, and he was as steady as a rock.
She looked around wildly. “Can anyone help with CPR?”
“He doesn’t need it yet—he’s breathing.” Jay’s fingers had moved from her father’s wrist to hover over his mouth.
“Oh.” She hadn’t even known that. Her sense of helplessness increased.
“Call an ambulance,” Jay instructed, his hand still over her father’s mouth.
Frozen, she couldn’t take her eyes off Jay’s fingers. Was he still breathing? Georgia didn’t dare ask.
“Call now,” Jay ordered.
Adrenaline surged through her. She shot to her feet and hurried over to where her cell phone still lay on the boardroom table beside the Montblanc pen her father had given her for her twenty-first birthday.
Daddy.
It was a silent scream. The shaking was worse than before, and her fingers fumbled as she attempted to grasp the phone. He hadn’t been Daddy for decades. Kingston at work—which was most of the time. Occasionally Father. But never Daddy.
The glass face of her phone swam before her. She was crying. Dammit! A tear dripped onto the screen. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely punch the emergency dial button.
She couldn’t fall apart. Not now.
Not when Kingston—the only real parent she’d ever known—was about to die.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно
