Jennifer Hayward - Reunited For The Billionaire's Legacy

“Don’t get me wrong,” Harrison continued, keeping step with him, “I love how progressive you’re being. God knows we need a more flexible vacation policy, but how do you think it’s going to work when all our employees decide to take the same day off? We have critical processes on the supply-chain side.”

“That won’t happen.” Coburn threw him an annoyed glance. “Employment experts have done studies on it, and it’s clear in most workforces self-ownership of deadlines will regulate all that.”

“And self-regulation will be top of mind when the Christmas holidays hit?” Harrison frowned. “You saw the board in there. You’re pushing hard and fast to make changes here, Coburn. You have a different vision, a different style of leadership. But you need to let them catch up with you.”

“They will.” He jabbed the call button for the elevator. “And they’ll be thanking me when our employee satisfaction and productivity numbers are up.”

“If they don’t revolt first.”

He gave his brother a quelling look. “I thought you were going to let me run this company my way.”

“That was before you started spouting nonsense about no formal vacation policy and the need for badge levels to incent employees. This isn’t a video game we’re playing. It’s a Fortune 500 company our family has spent a hundred years building.”

“I get that.” He stepped on the empty arriving elevator and Harrison followed. He got the pressure that was on him. He got that he was following his godlike brother in the analysts’ eyes. He got all of it until he was sick to death of it.

Harrison shook his head at him. “You make me nervous.”

“Don’t be.” He pushed the button for the executive floor. “Focus on your campaign. Shake people’s hands, pretend their babies are cute. I’ve got this.”

The elevator swished upward, revealing a panoramic view of New York. A long silence followed. “Are you sure,” Harrison ventured carefully when he eventually broke it, “your emotions aren’t a little... off with this divorce on your plate?”

Coburn glanced at his watch. “Happening in minutes. In fact, I’m fifteen of them late.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” His brother exhaled on a long sigh. “She’d kill me if she knew I was saying this, but Frankie says you haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

Harrison fixed him with that trademark deadly stare of his. “Do you still care for her?”

And wasn’t that the question of the day? He’d told himself he didn’t, had convinced himself he was long over his marital fling. But last night had proved him an exemplarity liar. To hijack his toast to Tony and Annabelle with that speech that had come out of nowhere? To sleep with the woman he was intent on wiping from his memory to bring some closure to that part of his life? Insanity.

“I am over her,” he told his brother, hoping that saying it out loud would make it so. “Making this divorce official is exactly what I need to move on.”

His brother’s gaze raked his face. “Good. I hope it gives you some perspective.”

“To what?” He and his brother were gradually restoring the close relationship that had defined their younger years after a decade of being at odds with each other following their father’s death. But lately Harrison’s preachiness was rankling him. “Do you think I should settle down like you and have the beautiful little nuclear family? You know how much that appeals to me.”

“Actually,” his brother drawled, “I was thinking more along the lines of what will make you happy. I don’t think you have been for a long time, Coburn, and I’m not just talking professionally. Climbing an avalanche-prone mountain is not thrill-seeking—it’s self-destructive.”

Yes, but on those truly brutal parts of the climb when his limbs felt as if they were going to fall off and he was so cold he thought he might expire, his head had felt devoid of anything, numb to the pure satisfaction of what he’d accomplished. It was addictive.

He lifted a shoulder. “My mountain-climbing days are over if the board has anything to say about it, so your worries are null and void there.”

His wife’s walk on the dangerous side? Not so much. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t come home and done an internet search on the African country she was going to be working in after his hour-and-a-half-long walk through the streets of Chelsea last night. What he’d found he hadn’t liked. Diana was putting herself well within the reach of the rebels who were causing havoc for the government. Who were known to use kidnapping as a bargaining tactic. He hadn’t slept a wink.

Harrison turned to face him as they stepped off the elevator. “Use this time to figure out what you want out of your life. We only do this once. You have a fresh start to work with.”

He lifted his chin and met his brother’s stare. “Since when did you get so philosophic?”

“Since my wife got hold of me,” Harrison admitted with a rueful smile. “I like it, actually...”

Coburn watched him walk away. Now that the aliens had taken his older brother and replaced him with that man, he thought maybe he’d consider his point as he strode toward Frankie, who gave the conference room Diana and the lawyers occupied a pointed nod. It was true. A fresh start was exactly what he wanted out of this divorce, and it was exactly what he was going to get. Now.

“So sorry,” he murmured, striding into the glass-and-chrome conference room with its magnificent views of New York. He kept his gaze firmly away from his soon-to-be ex-wife and on the stiff, expensively suited lawyers who were five hundred an hour apiece.

Chance Hamilton, his lawyer, made an awkward joke about this divorce not going anywhere. Jerry Simmons, Diana’s very proper, blue-blooded Harvard grad, stood and shook his hand. His wife remained seated, her eyes fixed on the windows. His guts twisted. She wouldn’t even look at him.

“So,” Jerry began as Coburn sat down beside Chance, across from Diana, “shall we do a final review of the terms, starting with property?” Diana, who looked like something out of Madame Tussauds wax museum, moved her lips in what he assumed was agreement.

“Fine.” He added his assent as he continued to study his wife, despite his better instincts. Only Diana could look her most beautiful in a simple white shirt, slim dark jeans and a floral scarf. Her dramatic dark features and hair made adornment unnecessary, something he’d always found vastly appealing versus the made-up showpieces he came across at most of the social functions he attended.

Her beautiful hair was caught up in a knot today as opposed to last night’s wavy curls, her makeup minimal, designed to cover the shadows beneath her eyes, but it hadn’t quite worked. Hands that lay in her lap, constantly clenching and unclenching, were the only sign that she felt anything at all.

Last night she had felt a whole hell of a lot. The half-moons dug into his biceps he’d noticed when he’d put on his shirt this morning bore testament to that. The sensation of her body tightening around his as he’d driven her to the brink was burned into his brain, taunting him, reminding him of just how good it was between them.

“The Key West house,” Jerry prompted.

Coburn gave him a distracted look. “Sorry?”

“The Key West house. Diana keeps it.”

He nodded.

“The East Side apartment closes this week. Half of those proceeds will go to each of you when that happens.”

He nodded. He’d hated that apartment from the first day they’d moved in. It had been a stuffy, cliquey building with a tiny terrace that had made him feel like a caged animal. He’d been thrilled to get out of it.