Chapter One Boston, Massachusetts
On a cold day in February
Seven years later
Meredith Spencer reflected that a woman of fifty-seven years shouldn't have to wear panty hose, support her three grandchildren, or return to the workforce as a temporary secretary. Yet here she was, standing back against the wall in the penthouse office of Zachariah Givens, president and CEO of Givens Enterprises, listening to Gerald Sabrinski rant and rave.
"You are a heartless bastard, and someday I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you get what you deserve." Bald and red-faced, Mr. Sabrinski leaned across Mr. Givens's desk and glared with all the wrath of a powerful opponent.
A powerful, defeated opponent.
Mr. Givens spoke in an aristocratic Boston accent, but without inflection of any kind. "Sabrinski Electronics was weakened by the recession, and that loan you gave to your son was the last straw."
Mr. Sabrinski's red face turned even redder. "My son needed the money."
"No doubt." Mr. Givens's lip curled in a most scornful manner.
Meredith's old friend, Constance Farrell, stood with her and instructed her in a low voice. "Mr. Givens knows Mr. Sabrinski's son, and has for years. Ronnie has a habit of hitting on his father for money."
"I see." Meredith clutched her notebook and her pen to her chest, her gaze fixed to the escalating scene before her.
Still in an undertone, Constance advised Meredith, "Mr. Givens is getting impatient. We'll be expected to escort Sabrinski out of the office in a few minutes."
Meredith stared at Mr. Givens, seated in his black leather executive chair, and wondered how Constance could tell he was impatient, when in fact Meredith could scarcely believe that man had ever suffered an emotion of any kind.
"Mr. Urbano will assist us," Constance murmured. "Mr. Urbano used to be a hockey player, and no one gives him any trouble."
Meredith flicked a glance at Jason Urbano, the legal counsel for Givens Enterprises. Mr. Urbano was burly, attractive, and probably in his early thirties, as was Mr. Givens. In most circumstances, the former hockey player would turn any woman's head, but seated next to Mr. Givens, he was all but invisible.
Mr. Givens irresistibly drew the eye. He was easily the handsomest man Meredith had ever seen in person. His black hair was straight and crisp. His eyes were so dark they looked black, too. His tanned skin stretched over bones that jutted into definitive lines: stubborn jaw, aristocratic nose, high cheekbones, broad forehead. And his body...well, just because Meredith was fifty-seven and a widow didn't mean she was dead or blind, and that man had the height and the kind of body that transfixed a woman's attention every moment he was in the room.
All of those devastating good looks made a great first impression. Then Meredith looked into his eyes and saw...nothing. He was not interested in her or, as far as she could tell, in anyone. He moved like a shark through the water, gracefully, smoothly, and with a threat that was palpable and repellent. He was cold, dispassionate, detached.
All morning and into the afternoon, Meredith had been observing office procedures, taking notes, preparing to take Constance's place while she was away on vacation, and during that time Mr. Givens had performed a lightning-fast takeover of Mr. Sabrinski's company, and was now listening as Mr. Sabrinski reviled him. At no point had Meredith seen Mr. Givens smile, frown, or show a sign of joy or curiosity or displeasure.
With his dark eyes fixed on Mr. Sabrinski, Mr. Givens said, "If you could have recovered some of the cash from your son, that would have helped, but your loan weakened the company and made it ripe for takeover."
Sabrinski's color faded, leaving him washed out and blue around the lips.
Relentlessly, Mr. Givens continued, "You cannot complain about your treatment at my hands. When news of the takeover breaks, your share will go up in value, and you can retire and live very well."
Sabrinski's color rose again, as did his voice. "I don't want to retire. I want to run my company."
"You can't," Mr. Givens replied, pausing between words for maximum impact. "You don't have control of it anymore."
Meredith whispered, "Couldn't he let Mr. Sabrinski manage it?"
Constance shot her an incredulous glance. "Absolutely not. Mr. Givens won't retain the man who lost the company through carelessness. What kind of example would that set?"
A nice example? But that was stupid. This was business. Meredith understood that. She just didn't understand why Mr. Givens had to be so unfeeling.
"I built that company from the ground up. I've sweated blood for it. I've lived for it. And you want me to retire?" Sabrinski's voice rose as he spoke, and as he finished, he was shouting.
In direct contrast, Mr. Givens's voice got lower and calmer. "I don't see that you have a choice. I've given the CEO position to Matt Murdoch, one of my executive vice presidents. He'll do a competent job."
"Oh, dear. Mr. Givens is definitely annoyed." Con-stance's gaze never left the scene. "Good. Mr. Urbano's standing up." Hurrying forward, she intervened. "Mr. Sabrinski, while this takeover may seem difficult right now, I'm sure your wife will be pleased to have more time with you." She nodded toward Mr. Urbano, who stepped to Mr. Sabrinski's side.
"My wife is already packing to leave." Sabrinski pointed a shaking finger at Mr. Givens. "As he well knows."
Meredith was shocked at the accusation. But more than that, she noted an actual emotion on Mr. Givens's face.
He looked surprised. "You're not accusing me of having anything to do with that. I barely know your wife -- and have even less interest in her."
"Janelle wanted me for one reason." Mr. Sabrinski's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. "For my influence. For my social position. Because of you, Givens, I now have none. What do you think?"
Plainspoken to the point of cruelty, Mr. Givens said, "That you should have kept your first wife. That you're paying quite a price for a midlife crisis."
Sabrinski huffed, "If you had a wife -- "
"But I don't."
Nor had he ever. Meredith knew that much about Mr. Zachariah Givens. Despite being photographed often with a lovely woman on his arm, despite gossip about his sexual liaisons, there had never been rumors that he was seriously involved. Constance didn't gossip about her boss, but she had said he was picky and inclined to be critical.
Mr. Givens stood, signifying it was time to ease Sabrinski out the door. "This discussion has disintegrated. I need to go back to work. Sabrinski, the money has already been transferred to your bank. There's no need for you to return to your office."
"Meaning if I try, I'll be detained in the lobby?" Once again red swept up from under Sabrinski's collar and mottled his cheeks.
Mr. Givens inclined his head. "Your personal belongings have been delivered to your home. I wish you the best of luck in the future, and don't worry, your business is in capable hands."
"Capable hands? You bastard! You worthless -- " Sabrinski lunged.
Mr. Urbano grabbed his arm.
Sabrinski tried futilely to shake him off. "Get away from me, you ape. I'll sue you for putting your dirty hands on me."
Constance tried to take Mr. Sabrinski's other arm. "Please, Mr. Sabrinski, it's all over, and this can do no one any good."
The froth of anger and violence shook Meredith.
But Mr. Givens watched without emotion. "Sabrinski, you're making a fool of yourself."
"A fool!" Mr. Sabrinski's whole head glowed with the red of a furnace. "You dare call me -- " He caught his breath. The color drained from his face, leaving him an odd gray color. "You little pip-squeak, you dare call me -- " Sweat broke out on his forehead and rolled down his che