Forever Yours

An Interesting Exchange [3]

3. An Interesting Exchange

Maureen

An hour and fifteen minutes later, I stepped out of the glass and chrome elevator and looked around the lobby for Ryan. The meeting had been successful. Five of my father's lawyers had met with me so that I could sign documents stating that in the case of my father's death or mental/physical incapacity, I would inherit the company, becoming the official owner.

I had been chosen out of my brothers and sisters because not only was I already on the board of directors, but I was extremely involved in the business. I knew how to run the company, my managing skills were pretty advanced, and I knew the marketing business inside out.

My mother, though a firm supporter of my dad no matter what he did, was not interested in working with the company. She was a housewife, and enjoyed staying at home with the kids more than she ever did working. My elder sister, Lauren, had just married a year before, and had moved to Nevada to start a horse ranch with her new husband. My younger siblings were caught up in being teenagers who spent money left and right for lack of a better thing to do.

My father deliberated long and hard on whom would become the legal inheritor of BFN. I was his first choice. I had agreed immediately, knowing that Dad didn't trust anyone else. I felt it was my responsibility. If anything, God forbid, should happen to Dad, I'd want him to know that I'd have everything under control.

"Maureen?" I heard Ryan call my name, and I jumped. I didn't realize where I had been walking. He was striding towards me, eyes serious and expectant.

"Oh... hey." Blue eyes. His eyes were so, so very blue.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. The meeting went well, thankfully. I have a lunch with my father in..." I checked my watch, reluctantly dragging my gaze away. "Forty minutes. Can we make it?"

"I think so. Traffic might be bad but the Yamashiro isn't too far from here." He ran a hand through his dark hair and my heart did a weird flip-flop thing in my chest.

"We should go then," I said, my voice coming out a little strangled. I supposed that that was the reason Ryan was staring at me like a guy who'd never seen the sun before. He suddenly shook his head to himself and turned, walking towards the doors exiting the lobby of the hotel. I followed, kicking myself for being so jello-kneed.

The doorman opened the door for us and I braced myself for the onslaught of shouting and flashing lights.

We pushed through the crowd (which seemed a bit smaller) and Ryan walked in front of me like a steady battering ram. I noticed then how broad his shoulders were. And how incredible he smelled. His perfectly disheveled hair brushed along the collar of his suit jacket... I had the strangest urge to run my fingers through it and see if it felt as silky as it looked.

Keeping my eyes trained on the back of his neck, I sidestepped a small, perky reporter who had a microphone shoved under my chin and shielded my face from the cameras.

A valet had just brought the limousine to the curb. Ryan reached back to take my arm, pulling me past the last few press members, and yanked the back door open. A male reporter suddenly fell into me, having been pushed aside by someone else, no doubt, and I stumbled. Ryan caught me, using one arm to shove the guy away.

Using Ryan's hand for support, I climbed into the limo. The questions were shouted louder and faster than before as Ryan shut the door behind me.

"Miss Carvelli! Miss Carvelli, how does it feel to be one of America's richest young heiresses?"