His cheeks reddened and his hands clenched.
Oh, shelikedthis. Before he could respond, she spoke again. “You’re Phillip Tremaine and you’ve been missing, presumed dead, for months. So, I think before we have any conversationsyouwant to have, you need to answermyquestions. Where have you been?”
She hadn’t spent much time looking for him. She’d barely been keeping her head above water as she swam through her grief. The newsies had looked for him, publishing new speculations each week for a few months before interest had dried up. Killian had tasked Tremaine Security personnel with the search, but no one had ever discovered what had happened or where the blood in his office had come from. Portia, like everyone else, had assumed that someone, probably his murderous assistant, had killed him.
“It doesn’t matter where I’ve been. All that matters is that I’ve returned and that I’ll be taking my company back.” He stared at her silently, waiting for her reaction.
Portia laughed, cold and cruel, just as he’d taught her. “No. You won’t. The Tremaine Corporation is mine. All legal and everything.” Her lawyers had ensured that.
“Silly child,” he said with a mocking laugh. “I was never really sure you should inherit the company, Portia. Your attitude proves me right.”
“My attitude? You’re the one waltzing back in here like nothing has changed. Why don’t you go back to whatever hole you crawled out of?” Cold anger burned through her.
He wasn’t taking her company. The Solveigs weren’t taking her company. Aleks had been right. She was the head of the corporation and she needed to step up.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” His voice practically vibrated with fury. “My name is on the building.”
“So is mine.” Portia gave him her shark smile. The one she’d learned from spending years at his side.
The look he shot her was so full of disdain that she was transported back to childhood. Those times when she got an A-minus, and he berated her for not getting an A. “You don’t understand what’s going on here, do you?” Condescension dripped from his voice.
“I do, actually. I’m running my company. Making decisions for my business.” She stared into blue eyes just like hers. “There’s nothing for you here.”
His laugh would make a super villain proud. “I have friends,” he warned.
“So do I,” Portia snapped.
His brows rose in interest.
Crap. She shouldn’t have said that. She didn’t need him poking into her business. “I think it’s best that you go back to wherever you were,” she told her father, feeling incredibly sick as she spoke but fighting to hide it as she faced him down. The man had encouraged and belittled her in equal measures. Her feelings for him were complicated in the extreme, but nothing good would come of him running the Tremaine Corporation again. She knew that in her soul.
“This isn’t over, Portia. You’ll regret this little rebellion of yours.” He stalked across the office and through the doors without a backward glance.
She clenched her hands into fists, trying to stop the shaking. She’d stood up to her father in the past, but only ever about small things. It had never gone well.
Exhaling in a slow steady stream, she tried to control her racing pulse. She’d let him get under her skin.
The warning about his friends concerned her. It wasn’t a surprise—she’d been trying to uncover his cronies since the day she took over, but the stakes were even higher now.
She’d known fighting her father would be a huge undertaking, but it almost felt more daunting than just taking over the damn company in the first place.
Looking around her office, she was struck by a wave of paranoia. Had her father bugged it?
She opened her phone and messaged Ash.
How would I sweep my office for bugs?
Staring at the phone, she willed him to respond. Would he ignore her because of her earlier call?
Why do you ask?
My assistant let my father wait in my office. Alone.
Shit.
Yeah, that summed it up. She typed again.I don’t know that he did anything, but I don’t know that he didn’t either.
I have the information on Vyne. I’ll be by in a couple of hours and can sweep for you.
