“Miss Grantham,” he’d begun.
“My name is Nash.”
“Nash, then.” Philip had sighed, but it’d been the last time he’d called her Grantham.
“I’m not going back to that school with all those snotty, rich brats.” At least at her mom’s lousy apartment, Shelby had known what to expect. At least there she’d had friends.
On the Greyhound bench, she’d literally dug her heels into the gravel and folded her arms tight against her chest. All her mother’s creepy boyfriends who’d tried to turn Shelby into one of their toys had forced her to learn how to fight, and to fight mean. If her father’s minions tried to force her to go back to that school, she’d kick and scream and fight them all the way.
“Then where, Shelby?” Alan had asked, his voice soft as he sat on her other side.
She started at his sudden appearance, surprised at how tired and beaten down he looked.
“Help me figure this out,” he said. “Please.”
For the first time, she saw the silver-haired attorney as more than her father’s tool and a means to ruin her life. And, also for the first time, she felt bad about always running away. Could he get fired because of her? Full of sympathy for him, she put her hand on his arm and offered comfort to a fellow victim of her tyrant father.
“Could I become emancipated?” she asked.
“In California there are only three ways to be declared emancipated. Get married with your father’s permission and the permission of the court.” The corner of Alan’s mouth twitched at her expression. “Join the military—no, Shelby.” He rubbed his face. “If you don’t follow their rules, they lock you up. I can’t see you in the military jumping to someone’s orders.”
“That’s it, then?” Shelby leapt to her feet.
When Philip moved as though to stop her, Alan held up his hand. “The only other way is to file a petition with the court, but that’s going to take time. You have to already be living apart from your father, with his permission. You have to be managing your finances and have a legal source of income. You have to be in school or have your GED and”—Alan twitched his brows at her—”you have to convince the court that it’s in your best interest to be emancipated.”
“And it’s not an option to live with your father?” Philip asked.
“Really? Are you that stupid? As if he’d let me stay in his house. He won’t even see me. You think I’dwantto stay with that, that—” Shelby sputtered, trying to think of a word that fit her disgust. She couldn’t come up with anything bad enough that the two old men wouldn’t frown at. On separate occasions, they’d both chastised her for having a potty mouth. “—thatsperm donor? No way.”
Alan winced, and she almost regretted her words. Already, she realized how lucky her father was to have loyal employees like Alan and Philip. She looked back and forth at the two men. She might not be savvy in their business world, but she had smarts in a very different kind of world. How had her jerk father earned loyalty that went beyond a paycheck?
“Miss Nash,” Philip said, “as long as you are still a minor, you must live with an adult guardian. It seems your father’s home is not an option, and you refuse to attend a boarding school. If you could choose, where would you live?”
“You got kids, Shang?” she asked.
“I have five sons.”
Shelby made a face and turned to Alan. “You got kids? Would your wife mind a boarder?”
An odd expression crossed his face and then disappeared. “My wife is dead. I live alone, except for my housekeeper and her husband.” He rose and studied her for a few seconds, his expression contemplative. “If I let you live in my house, will you abide by my rules?”
“Not if they’re stupid rules.”
“I can be reasonable, if you can. You’ll also have to agree to study hard with the goal of getting into a good college. If you do that, I believe Philip and I can convince your father.” Alan held out his hand to her. “Deal?”
For a second, Shelby had an impulse to take off again. But something deep in Alan’s eyes held her in place. Finally, she reached out and took his hand. “Deal.” His expression lightened, and he actually looked happy. She vowed not to be a pain in his side. Much.
“Would you prefer a tutor?” Philip had pointed toward a limo in the distance and nodded his head in that direction.
“You don’t have to decide now, Shel. You have many options.” Alan had put a light hand on her back, guided her toward the car, and begun quizzing her about her interests. The three of them—mostly Alan and Philip—had spent the ride to the airport debating the pros and cons of a huge variety of job types that Shelby had never even heard of. She’d fallen asleep on the Grantham jet to the sound of their continued discussion.
With the memory came a realization. Alan—or Charles Grantham?—had guided her education choices and had then provided her with work experiences that placed her ahead of the game as a project manager. She knew she’d received responsibilities throughout the various Grantham Industries businesses that had stretched her, forced her to learn more than most people her age.
She refused to credit her father with doing anything for her. No. It had to have been Alan’s idea. Only recently had she come to understand just how much she owed him. She’d have to find a way to let him know how much it meant to her. How muchhemeant to her.
“Alan has been quite concerned about you this morning,” Philip said, breaking into her reverie and pulling her back to the corporate offices.
“I didn’t mean for him to worry.” Shelby stared at the doors to the conference room where Alan would be waiting. For the first time, she felt a twinge of concern. What was the nature of the threat? Not that she expected anyone to tell her. Not once, in the last ten years, had anyone shared that kind of information with her. She’d just had to go along with their claims that she was in danger and must be protected. Either they were all full of it, or they were very good at their jobs, because she’d never seen anything.
Philip opened the door. Inside, Alan turned around at the sound and a huge, relieved grin spread across his face.
Shelby ran and threw herself into his arms, blinking at the stinging in her eyes. It wasn’t like they didn’t talk online every couple of days. Why all the emotion now?
“Let me look at you.” He held her back and scanned her face. “You get more beautiful every time I see you, every bit the confident businesswoman I knew you could become.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She stepped away and wiped the corners of her eyes. “I know you had doubts, even if you did hide them well. So what does the sperm donor want me to do this time?”
A flush spread across Alan’s cheeks, and his eyes widened. Only when he glanced over her shoulder did Shelby sense that the room held someone else. She turned and stared into the face that had haunted her dreams for the last four years.
