Protecting the Heiress. Martha Kennerson
Persian rug that spoke more to Francine’s style than the desk that had previously been used by their father.
While Francine may have hated her father’s old desk, she loved his soft leather wingback chair and matching sofa, so they both stayed. But the possession of her father’s that Francine prized the most was his massive book collection, a collection which was full of original works and first editions, along with several technical books that she reached for daily.
“Can you believe Meeks? Making this whole new client thing about me...about my being shot?” Francine complained as she began pacing the floor of her office. “Like I’m some helpless child that needs her hand held. What, I’m suddenly too fragile to handle myself? I did my time in the shrink’s chair after the shooting, at Dad’s insistence, mind you, and I’ve had no lingering effects. I was cleared to return to work. I don’t need Meeks trying to tell me what to do, too.”
Farrah smiled and sat quietly on the sofa.
“I mean, it’s not like I’m not capable of handling myself,” she said, making tracks across the plush carpet. “How many times have I laid his ass out during our workouts?”
Farrah crossed her legs and shot her sister a knowing look, and her smile grew wider.
“Okay, maybe he did let me win,” she conceded, “but he’s not your average man, either.”
“He’s not?” Farrah asked.
Francine stopped midstride and glared at her sister. “Farrah, aren’t you going to say anything about his behavior?”
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say, and you know it,” she said, crossing her arms under her breasts.
Francine rolled her eyes to the ceiling, released a deep breath and went to join her sister on the sofa. “What am I going to do about Meeks?” Francine asked as she laid her head on her sister’s shoulder.
“I told you what to do. Invite him up to your place for dinner and when he arrives, greet him wearing nothing but your combat boots. Channel your inner Miley...better yet, Beyoncé,” she said, laughing as she swerved her hips.
“What?” Francine asked, trying not to laugh.
“When’s the last time you had a little fun, anyway?” she asked.
Francine threw her head back and laughed so hard she could barely catch her breath. Farrah had always been the wild one out of the three of them; she had inherited her adventurous spirit from their father. She was beautiful and wasn’t afraid to admit that her looks could easily get her whatever she wanted. While all three triplets were brilliant overachievers, Farrah knew the fair skin and high cheekbones they inherited from their Italian mother and the luxurious jet-black hair, straight nose and chin they got from their African-American and Hispanic father gave her a superficial advantage against which she constantly had to fight.
“Thanks but I think I’ll pass. And my sex life is not a topic up for discussion.” Francine got up and returned to her desk. “Have you talked to Dad yet?” she asked.
Francine took a chocolate-covered almond Hershey’s Kiss from the crystal candy dish that sat on her desk. At the same time, her sister pulled out a half-eaten candy bar from her purse and took a bite.
“You’re still reaching for the chocolate whenever you get upset, I see,” Farrah said.
“Right back at you,” Francine replied, pointing to her sister’s candy bar.
“Nope, I save the ice cream for that. Right now, I’m just hungry,” Farrah said, biting into the bar.
“Whatever. About Dad...” Francine asked again.
“Yeah, I talked to him. You know, I never knew Dad could be so...so, I don’t even know,” she said, her voice rising several octaves.
“Farrah!” Francine hit the top of her desk with the palm of her hand. “Focus and tell me what happened.”
“Meeks is what happened. He and Robert, in fact,” she said.
“What?” Francine asked, throwing up her hands.
“They talked to Dad and—”
“When?”
“I’ll tell you if you stop interrupting me,” she said before taking another bite of her candy.
Francine closed her mouth, took her thumb and index finger and imitated turning an invisible lock on her lips. She then threw the imaginary key over her shoulder and glared at her sister.
“Thank you,” Farrah said. “Anyway, thanks to Meeks and Robert, Dad all of a sudden agreed that personal security for celebrities brought on too much risk. And before you break that lock and ask, yes, I reminded him of just how much revenue that part of our business has generated over the last two years, and that expanding to work with celebrities was the next natural step.” Farrah crossed her arms and legs. “I even reminded him that both Robert and Meeks were in favor of this division change until you got shot. We all know Meeks is making this personal when it should be about business. Mom has managed to keep Dad at bay for now, but if he manages to get the board to reconsider their decision and calls for a vote, we’re screwed.”
Francine had been able to convince her dad and the majority of the stockholders to give her one major celebrity client to prove that not only was this additional line of business profitable, but it also brought no extra danger to their team. Francine had been well on her way to selecting and perusing that client before she was shot. Fortunately Tiffany’s case had landed in her lap at the perfect opportunity.
“Damn! If that didn’t convince him, I’m not sure what will.” Francine sat forward, crossed her arms on her desk and laid down her head. “If we can’t convince Dad to change his mind, then we’ll be at a shareholder stalemate.”
“And let me remind you, sister dear, if that happens, the issue goes to the board for a decision.” Farrah laughed and slowly shook her head. “Dad may not be an attorney, but he sure as hell thinks like one. Making that thirteen-person board full of his friends, which he virtually controls, have the final say in any decisions that the six shareholders can’t resolve was brilliant.”
Francine raised her head. “Just one more thing you got from Dad,” Francine said.
Farrah smiled and flipped her hair. “What, my brilliance?”
Francine shook her head. “No, your sneakiness. So what do we do?” she asked, sitting up to reach for more candy.
“While I’m looking for some legal loopholes, you need to see how many board members you can convince to vote our way.”
“Well, there are thirteen votes, and the six shareholders are split down the middle.” Francine used her fingers to count off the votes. “So, of the outstanding seven members, I know we have Mom, Mary and Paul on our side. We either need to find a way to convince shareholder Matthew—”
“Not going to happen. Matthew always votes with Meeks...they’re brothers,” Farrah said.
“Or, we see if we can get one of Dad’s old business cronies or one of those Army Special Forces kids to take back their voting proxy and vote our way,” Francine countered.
“All right, what about his former business partner, the one who never leaves his house? What’s his name? Bass, Brick?”
“It’s Beck, Ronald Beck, but he’ll never go against Dad,” Francine said. “He and Eddie Mercado helped with the start-up funds for the business, remember? Dad’s made them a fortune. Hell, he’s made everybody a fortune.”
“So which of the remaining two board members, those Special Forces kids, do you think you could have a shot with—Dallas Walls or James Grayson?” Farrah asked.
“Neither. Their fathers were a part of Dad’s Special Forces group and he’s had their proxies for years. I don’t think either of them