Page 106 of Vengeful Vows
Because of Theodore’s unstable behavior, his mother suspected her husband had the early stages of dementia. His physician disagreed, saying that Theodore was at an age where he’d acquired vast wealth and wanted to enjoy it. The motorcycles he couldn’t ride and the yacht that needed a crew were proof of that, as were the classic Rolls Royce, a chauffeur, a château in France, and a twenty-three-year-old mistress to enjoy it with.
Rafe suspected that both his mother and the doctor were partially correct. Theodore had never wanted any part in Sterling Worldwide. He’d been the unexpected and much pampered late-in-life and third-born child of Barron and Penelope Sterling. His parents had believed Theodore to be nothing less than a gift from God, and they’d treated him as such, indulging his every whim, allowing him to travel the world from a young age, buying him gifts that had been denied to his siblings. He’d also bypassed the boarding schools that the other Sterling children had attended. But his parents had insisted on a college education. They’d made a sizable donation to the university’s foundation to ensure he received passing grades. Surprising everyone, including himself, he’d excelled in business school.
When his older brother, Barron Sterling, Jr., had been killed in a hunting accident, Theodore had been thrust into the unwelcome role as heir and CEO of a worldwide hotel empire. He hadn’t known that his much more qualified sister couldn’t inherit the business. He’d hired attorneys, but in the end, the terms were absolute. Theodore had lost his freedom and his jet-setting lifestyle. Within weeks of his brother’s burial, he was married to the formidable Rebecca, a woman his mother had selected.
Now that Rafe had proven himself competent as the conglomerate’s Chief Financial Officer, Theodore had run away from his day-to-day responsibilities in favor of living the life he’d imagined.
Unaware or uncaring that her son hadn’t responded, Rebecca continued. “Ms. Malloy”—she pointed to the brunette—“has compiled a list of suitable candidates for your consideration.”
“Candidates?”
“To become your wife,” Ms. Malloy clarified, taking over the meeting. She crossed the room toward him, her hips swaying and her peep-toe shoes sounding a tattoo that did evil things to his libido.
When she stopped near his desk, her scent reached him, lilacs and summer, a contrast to the darkness that hovered over his life.
“The list has been narrowed to five finalists for your consideration.” Obviously she had no clue she was rearranging his brain cells. “Each of the ladies is qualified to be your wife. Of course, for your privacy, they only know certain things about you. A general description, the fact that you’re an executive, that you live in Houston. The women have been interviewed and prescreened. We have nondisclosures on record, so any exchange of information will be confidential. Because time is of the essence, a mixer on Thursday or Friday would be most expeditious. If you prefer, we can arrange casual meetings, coffee or breakfast, perhaps lunch as you narrow your selection to three. From there we will be happy to set up dinners. That way you can get to know her before actual social events. We can make it appear like a whirlwind romance and?—”
“Stop.” He held up a hand and trapped her gaze. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I didn’t realize that you weren’t aware…” She glanced toward his mother, but Rebecca looked down to pluck a piece of lint from her skirt
Recovering, the brunette smiled. The gesture was quick, practiced, and polished—meant to impart confidence without being too familiar.
Irrationally, it—she—irritated the hell out of him.
“I beg your pardon. I’m Hope Malloy.” She extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sterling.”
He ignored her gesture. “I asked you a question.”
As she dropped her arm, her smile vanished. When she spoke, her tone was more formal. “I own The Prestige Group. Celeste Fallon recommended my team to your mother.”
“Team of…what?”
“We are an elite matchmaking service for the world’s wealthiest, most discerning individuals. We understand that it’s difficult for men such as yourself to meet appropriate?—”
“You’re amatchmaker?You stick your nose in other people’s business for a living?”Stunned, Rafe swung his gaze toward his mother. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“Watch your tone.”
“You’ve got thirty seconds before I throw all of you out.”
“I know this is a shock, so I’ll forgive your bad manners. Prestige will be discreet on this search. No one needs to know it’s happening.”
He stood and slammed his palms flat on the desk surface. “You hired them to find me awife?”The killer-heeled woman was here to marry him off to some nameless woman to safeguard the Sterling empire?
“Celeste has assured me that Ms. Malloy is the best.”
Of that, he had no doubt. Fallon and Associates was one of the world’s most exclusive crisis management firms. For more than a hundred and fifty years, they’d specialized in high-profile cases, restoring reputations, saving careers, ensuring people never talked. Like Sterling Worldwide, the Fallons had also kept the business private, and all owners had been related to the founder, Walter Fallon—who’d been part of a secret society at the University of Virginia with Rafe’s great-great-great-great-grandfather, John.
Along with five other young men who’d been in the same organization, John and Walter had become lifelong friends. Over the years, the Sterlings and Fallons had helped each other numerous times, including earlier in the year when Theodore and Lillibet had been caught in the first-class toilet of a commercial aircraft.
Thanks to Fallon and Associates, the investigation had gone away, and Celeste had managed to kill the story before a prominent East Coast newspaper could get anyone to verify the distasteful rumors.
As it was, only one blog had run the story, under the headline,Little Girl and her Teddy Join the Mile High Club!The teaser, as vile as it was provocative, had been a clever play on his father’s name and the ridiculous age difference between the lovers.
A week later, the website had vanished.
“Ms. Malloy has done a fine job. At this rate, we can announce your engagement within a few weeks.”