The Long Term Plan (With Short Term Fixes)

XV

Evangeline tightened her headscarf around her face; then she pushed her sunglasses up her nose with her pointer finger. "Jacob, since when do you pilot helicopters?"

"Since the other guy crashed last year's model into the Bermuda beach house." Jacob shut the vehicles doors.

"He did that? I thought it was a hurricane?" Maxwell said, leaning forward, past Evan, to grab a bottle of prosecco.

"PR called it Hurricane Irving to keep it under wraps, Maxwell. Even some of your inferiors kept your fragile state from the truth." Jacob smirked. He glanced at the bottle. "Keep that goodness-greatness away from me, honey. I'm tucking Hurricane Jacob away in Hell for a rainy day."

When Maxwell had swallowed a quarter of the bottle right before her in under eleven seconds, Evan gently removed it from his long, languid fingers and put it away again.

The helicopters phone rang, and by the time they all realized it did, they'd just reached cruising height, so it went straight to speakerphone.

"Jacob!" Noah boomed.

"Hey, Daddy!" squeaked Jacob as he turned on autopilot. "Bought me anything cute to wear over there in Italy?"

"Why are you piloting that helicopter?! I just hired a new pilot."

"Oh, you hired him, or those twin soplagaitas hired him right under our noses to file a case that will cost us millions?!"

"Soplagaitas?" Maxwell mumbled repeatedly, questioning it and not, back and forth until he shrugged after Noah's rebuttal.

"I, the CEO, hired an employee who works under me, of course. Why would you say such a thing, Jacob?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because our brilliant and loyal team of lawyers hired Evangeline's inamorato as company treasurer: effective last year!"

"Evangeline?"

"Noah." Her stomach sunk. "It's true. We took off as soon as we were finished running over things. This news was one of them."

"Okay," he replied coolly, scratching the back of his head. Down the business hall, he heard the front doors beep open. "We can all handle it when you arrive."

"Don't forget to handle me when we arrive, Noah!"

"Jacob!"

"Too much?"

Maxwell snored, slumping over into Evan's lap.

"Someone has just arrived," Noah explained, the slight heels of his Oxfords clacking on the stone floor as he made his way towards his unexpected guest. "My next meeting isn't for another forty-five minutes, meaning regrettably, I will have to let you all go now."

His jaw hardened when he looked at the doors. After ending the call, he tucked his phone back inside his suit jacket. Noah turned on his heels smoothly to face the visitor and the doors. The doormen gave him apologetic expressions and looked down at the identification card between its hands.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Boeck. I must say Italy is a gracious host, and she is glad you've arrived pleasantly."

"Wonderful," countered Cole with a conscious effort of coyness. "Though it appears my baggage did not make it back to the hotel where I'll be staying."

"Tragic," Noah spat through his grit teeth, his hands folded behind his back. He cleared his throat. "Well, again, I bid you welcome. However, if you'd be so polite to excuse me there are a few monetary matters that require my attention around here."

"I would think not," answered Cole. "In fact, I insist on accompanying you as the treasurer. " He narrowed his eyes, and Noah, sweating, agreed silently.

Cole tailed him as Noah whipped around pillared corners. Noah prayed he wouldn't last long in his business, in the heat and pressure. He hoped that Cole would meet someone and fall in love, truly in love, and that the job would tear them apart, or better, that she'd take others to bed, as to replicate the pain Noah was feeling knowing his wife had lain with Cole.

Cole was unnerved by Noah's frigid responses. A stone shoulder can crumble still, and he really believed that. This was no ordinary game played by ordinary players. War was between Noah and Cole, a power struggle to protect their rights. Noah had an empire. Yet Cole had the support of two lawyers hired previously by Satan himself. How could he lose?