Amy had her stubborn face on and he knew he’d lost this round. To be honest, he really didn’t want to plow through the bid documents. It was tedious work and if Linc wanted to do it, he’d let him.
“Listen, Beck...”
Amy bit the inside of her lip and Beck knew she was about to say something he didn’t want to hear. Worse, she had the same look on her face when every year or so she suggested that he track down Cady, that he see where she was and what she was doing. That he find a real connection, like the one she and Julia had.
And every year he told her he wasn’t interested, that he was perfectly happy as he was. Well, not happy, but content.
“Guess who I saw today?” Amy asked before he could tell her not to go there.
Beck tensed. He didn’t need her to say the name; he heard it in her voice. “Where?”
“At Bonnets, a cocktail bar off—”
“I know it.” Beck felt hot then cold. He stared down at the patterned comforter, the blue-and-white pattern rising and falling.
He forced his tongue to move. “New York is in so many ways a small town. Listen, I have to go.”
“No, you don’t. You’re just trying to avoid talking about Cady. I need to tell you—”
“Bye, Ames, I’ll talk to you soon.” Beck slapped his laptop shut on her annoyed squeal.
He ran his hand through his wavy hair and flipped the laptop open again. He quickly accessed a file, opening the one photo he’d kept of her. She was lying on the sand at Maya Bay on Phi Phi island, her bright pink bikini a blaze of triangles against her tanned skin. She’d turned her head to look at him and her long and silky hair dropped into the sand. Her startling eyes brimmed with laughter. And love.
They’d been apart for nearly ten years and would be apart for a lifetime more. He knew that, accepted that. That was why he never thought about her, said her name, discussed those first few months of his trip. They were completely, solidly over. So why was he looking at a photo of her, wishing that things had turned out differently?
Because he wasn’t busy and he had time to think. And to remember.
But mostly because he was, despite his high IQ, a moron.
Beck exited the private elevator that only he, his siblings and Amy had access to and stepped into the corridor of Ballantyne International. The corporate offices were situated above their flagship, and oldest, jewelry store on Fifth Avenue. Unlike the classic decor of the store below, the Ballantyne offices were light, airy and modern. Beck, as director of finance and the group’s troubleshooter, saw an intern walking down the hall to the copy room and struggled to remember his name.
“Cole, Cody...”
The kid turned and offered a tentative smile. “Charles, sir.”
He had the C right and he was only in his early thirties, far too young to be called sir. Beck shrugged out of his leather jacket and laid it across the top of his suitcase and pushed the bag in the intern’s direction. “Put this in Amy’s office and bring me a very large cup of coffee. I’ll be in Linc’s office until further notice.”
“Mr. Ballantyne—Linc—is in the boardroom with the other Mr. Ballantyne and Ms. Ballantyne.”
Beck nodded, holding back his smile at the mouthful of Bs. “Thanks.” He turned and headed in the opposite direction, greeting the odd person he encountered on his way. Monday morning and thanks to his flight being diverted to Newark because of an anticipated emergency landing at La Guardia, he was late. He’d picked the least aggressive cab driver in the city and his trip from New Jersey had taken forever. He hated being late.
Beck opened the door to the conference room and pushed his shirtsleeves up his elbows. As Charles said, his siblings were all in the room, but Amy wasn’t.
“Driven is back,” Jaeger stated, leaning back in his chair.
Jaeger had given him the nickname shortly after his thirteenth birthday when he graduated at the top of his class and made both the state swimming and track teams. They thought that he was an outlier, one of those kids who was gifted in both sports and academics. They never suspected that he’d always felt the need to prove himself worthy of being born a Ballantyne.
“How was Finland?” Linc asked, standing up to give him a one-arm hug. Linc was almost as big as he was and a couple of years older. Beck stepped away and bent down to drop a kiss in Sage’s black hair. Like him, his brothers were big and brawny but Sage had the body of a ballerina.
“Good,” Beck replied, slapping his palm against Jaeger’s. “How’s Ty? Flu gone?”
Jaeger nodded. “He’s fine. When are you going to find a woman and bake yourself a kid, Beck? They are a blast.”
Oh, no, not this again. Beck noticed the glint of mischief that appeared in Jaeger’s eyes and did an internal eye roll. Since reconnecting and falling in love with Piper, Jaeger was determined to pull his siblings into his sparkly, loved-up world. Beckett had no objection to being loved up; he just didn’t need the emotional connection. He had no intention of flirting with that hell again. After Cady, it had taken him six months to feel halfway human and another six before he’d felt relatively whole again.
He refused to think of her, not now, not ever. He hadn’t been able to discuss her with Amy; couldn’t bear to even hear her name.
“I’ve had a nightmare morning so don’t start,” Beck said as a hesitant tap came from the half open door. He pulled the door open, took his cup of coffee from Charles, said thanks and took a reviving sip. “So, this looks like a meeting. What’s on the agenda?”
“Only one thing,” Linc told him.
“And that is?”
“Deciding who we are going to appoint to oversee our new PR and rebranding campaign.”
Linc dropped into the chair at the head of the conference table and Beck sat to his right. “A lot has happened lately. At the beginning of last week, I met with eight PR companies, including Jenkins and Pale, who’s always done our PR and advertising.”
As the Ballantyne finance director and all round troubleshooter, this item for discussion was in Beck’s wheelhouse. Jaeger sourced magnificent gems and Sage was their head designer, but Beck and Linc ran the business side of Ballantyne International.
“We decided that we needed to rebrand a while back, but I moved it higher up our priority list,” Linc said. “As we know, Connor was the face of Ballantyne. He had the personal connections and brought charisma to the brand. Without him the Ballantyne brand is...staid, stuffy.”
Linc leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table and looking at Beck. “The day you left town Sheik Abdul Ameen went to Moreau’s and bought a diamond bracelet for his mother instead of coming to us. I did a sales audit and I noticed that other long-term, super-rich clients have also moved on.”
Their clients’ loyalty was to Connor, not to them, Beck realized.
“But we have the same quality of gems we always have had,” Sage protested.
“Yeah, but we don’t have Connor selling them,” Linc pointed out. “Connor knew his clients inside out. They liked dealing with him and only with him.”
“And our younger, rich clients want sexy and they want hip.” Beck sipped his coffee, agreeing with his brother. Linc was brilliant at managing their staff and dealing with their shareholders. He was a hands-on manager, but Beckett was their strategist, able to see the big picture. He and Linc worked really well together with each of them playing to their strengths.
He looked