Fiona Brand - Takeover In The Boardroom - An Heiress for His Empire

They took the path to the overlook, Maddie grateful she’d worn the sensible pumps and that the ground was dry. Neither of them spoke while they walked, but he kept his hand on the small of her back, moving it to her elbow in the uneven patches of terrain.

When they stopped, they were at one of the favorite overlooks that gave a view of both the famous bridge and the San Francisco skyline. A few tourists dotted the area, but none near enough to hear any discussion she and Vik might have.

Vik maneuvered them so he stood only a few inches from her, his body acting as a barrier against the incessant winds off the harbor. The close and clearly protective positioning felt significant.

“My grandfather gave my grandmother her first view of San Francisco in this very spot,” Vik said after a moment of silent contemplation of the vista before them. “He promised her a future with food to put on the table for their family. A future without oppression for their Orthodox beliefs.”

“He kept his promise.”

“Yes.” Vik went silent for several seconds of contemplation. “Grandfather brought my dad up here as a child. Misha told Frank he could be anything he wanted to, a true American with no accent, his name just like all the other boys’.”

“Your grandfather gave your father the freedom to be anything he wanted to.”

“Even a failure.”

She couldn’t argue that assessment, not when she knew Frank Beck had spent his adulthood running from responsibility. Unless something had changed in the last six years, Frank only contacted Vik when he wanted something. Usually money.

Placing her hand on his forearm, Maddie said, “He didn’t fail when he fathered you.”

“Misha and Ana raised me to be who I am.”

“An undisputable success.”

Vik turned to face her. “You believe that?”

“I do.”

“That is good.”

She smiled, not sure why she felt the need to reassure Viktor Beck, but determined to do it anyway.

“Deda brought me up here, too, when I was boy. Frank could not be bothered, but I made promises to myself, commitments to the children I would one day father. Promises I will keep.”

“I have no doubt.”

Vik’s gaze warmed, his expression filled with unmistakable determination. “My grandparents were not in love when they married, but theirs is one of the strongest marriages I have ever witnessed.”

“They are devoted to each other.”

“And to their family, even my dad.”

“I believe it.”

Vik nodded, his dark eyes reflecting approval of her words. “That kind of dedication runs in my veins right along with the ruthlessness.”

“I know.”

Vik laid his big hands on her shoulders, creating a private world of two for them. “I believe our children will share those traits.”

“No doubt.” There was nothing she could do about how breathless her voice had become.

He was touching her, and even through the fabric of her Valentino suit jacket and the shell she wore under it, she felt the connection intimately.

“Considering it will come from both their mother and their father, our children have little hope otherwise.”

“I’m not ruthless,” she said, shocked by the accusation.

“The paperwork you signed today would say otherwise.”

“You know that isn’t the way I usually do things.” It just had been...necessary.

“Ruthlessness does not have to be the dominant trait in your nature for you to have it.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

“That you’ll fight for those who deserve your loyalty, even those who do not? No.”

“You expect to deserve my loyalty.”

“Yes.”

“And will I get yours?”

His expression said her question surprised him. “Do you doubt it?”

“Six years ago...”

“You kissed me and I pushed you away.”

“That’s a simplified way of looking at it and not entirely accurate.”

“No?”

“No. I told you I loved you. You told me I was too young and you didn’t just push me away, you pushed me out of your life completely. Our friendship ended with one kiss.”

“It was necessary.”

“We could have stayed friends.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You were an eighteen-year-old, barely a woman.”

“But I was a woman.”

“I know.” There was a message in his voice she couldn’t decipher.

“You were also the daughter of a man I admired and who trusted me with you.”

“Not to mention he was your boss,” she reminded him a little snidely.

“Yes, my boss. The president and owner of a company I intended to run one day.”

“A relationship with me would hardly have gotten in the way of that goal.”

“It would have. Six years ago.”

“But not now.” No, now it was the opposite.

Marriage to her would give Vik exactly what he wanted.

“No, not now.”

“I loved you.” She wouldn’t call it a crush; it hadn’t been by then. She’d gotten over it, but at one time she had loved him. “Your rejection hurt me.”

“I am sorry.”

But he wouldn’t change his past actions, even if he could. She knew him.

“Look on the bright side,” he said almost teasingly.

She didn’t remember anything bright about that time. “What?”

He smiled like a shark. “It should be easy for you to learn to love me again.”

“Emotion doesn’t work like that.” And she was pretty sure falling in love with this man, even if she married him, wouldn’t be the smartest thing she could ever do.

“Doesn’t it?” He pulled something out of the inside pocket of his coat. A small lacquer box that fit in his palm. “My grandmother brought this Palekh over from Russia when she and my grandfather defected during the Cold War.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“The beauty they left behind and the life they hoped to build. Deda always said Babulya was his frog princess.”

The top of the box was decorated with an image from the Russian fairy tale where Prince Ivan ended up married to an industrious and lovely princess who had once been a frog. The magical princess outdid her aristocratic counterparts set to marry Ivan’s brothers in every way.

Maddie thought maybe she understood why Vik’s grandmother Ana had told Maddie the story of the frog princess the first time they’d met.

“Does this make you my frog prince?” she asked tongue in cheek.

Vik traced the rich image painted in egg tempera on black. “Perhaps it does.”

“You know I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

“Maybe you should.”

Now, that was definitely not something her father ever would have said to her.

“Your grandfather’s promises seem to fly in the face of Russian pessimism.” But then Misha Beck had never struck her as a pessimist.

The man who had changed his last name to reflect his new country and life had a decidedly forward-thinking attitude.

Maddie had only met Vik’s grandparents a few times, but she liked them.

A lot.

Despite the fact Misha and Ana had raised their grandson, Maddie had always considered them the epitome of a normal family. The kind of family she’d always wanted.

The kind she wasn’t sure Vik was offering with whatever was in that small lacquer box.

“Deda never believed the old adage that to speak of success cursed it.” Though his shoulders didn’t move, there was a shrug in Vik’s voice.

“His life and yours prove his skepticism.”

“That is one way to look at it.”

“The other?”

“Deda gave up being a Russian and embraced the way of his new homeland.”

“The American ideology does tend toward the positive.”

“Remember that.”