Authors: Scent of Danger
"Fine. Then call Sabrina's bluff. I'll come up with some
great language declaring you mentally incompetent. Keep raving that you're not
accepting an ideal donor match, and you'll only lend credibility to my
argument. And if I need witnesses, the nurses in ICU would line up to support
my claim. They already think you're nuts."
"Sorry, Dylan, but your knight-in-shining-armor bullshit's
not going to work. You and I both know you're full of it. You might try, but
you could never pull this off. I know a dozen people, including Radison, who'd
testify that I'm a hundred percent lucid and able to make my own decisions.
They're not about to perjure themselves to help you realize your sentimental
goal. This might shock you, but not everyone feels the same way about me as you
do."
"I don't blame them," Sabrina commented dryly. "But
that's not the point. What you're saying is that if I tried declaring you
incompetent, you'd fight it—right?"
"I'd fight it and I'd win. Remember, Sabrina, I'm the ultimate
street kid. There's no beating me when it comes to getting down in the dirt and
slugging it out."
"I agree." Sabrina interlaced her fingers calmly.
"And I'm the ultimate corporate shark. It's a role I don't much like
playing, but when I do, there's no beating me when it comes to going for the
jugular. It just so happens that I was trained on a different, but equally
brutal, battlefield than you. So, here we have it. You played your hand. Here's
mine. I'm seeing a nephrologist on Wednesday. She's got a battery of tests to
run. It's going to be another month before I get the go-ahead. But once I
do—which I will—and if your kidneys still haven't kicked in on their own, then
you and I have a date in the operating room. If you refuse to let me be your transplant
donor, I'll break my agreement with Ruisseau, walk out of your life, and never
look back. Your turn."
Carson stared at her for a moment, trying to determine if she was
serious or bluffing. Obviously, he didn't like the answer he found, because a flash
of naked pain crossed his face. Sabrina knew she'd caused that pain, and it
made her insides twist. But she stood her ground, kept her impassive veneer in
place.
"I'm not bluffing this time, Carson," she reinforced
quietly. "I mean it. Either I'm your daughter or I'm not. If I am, accept
my heartfelt need to be there for you. Act like a father. If you can't, then I
guess we've got nothing to build on. And nothing more to say."
A long minute of silence ticked by.
"Damn, you're good," Carson muttered at last. "I guess
the corporate battlefield's even bloodier than the streets." He threw up
his hands. "Fine. You win. I'll take your damned kidney."
She smiled sweetly. "Thank you. Now that that's set-tied, I
have some other news to share. I think this news will be a lot easier for you
to swallow. In fact, it might even make you stop bellowing like a moose."
He arched a suspicious brow. "I'm listening."
Sabrina didn't make him wait. "I did one other thing on the
plane ride back to LaGuardia besides my Ruisseau work. I drafted an
announcement telling the entire staff who I am and what my position in the
company is. With your approval, I'd like to make that announcement this
afternoon."
Carson coughed, reaching over for a glass of water and taking a
few swallows. "Tickle in my throat," he muttered, fooling no one,
since they all knew how affected he was by Sabrina's decision. Regaining his
composure, he placed the glass on the nightstand. "Are you sure you're
ready?" He studied Sabrina's face. "There's no timeline here. And no
pressure—not from me, or anyone else."
"I realize that. I don't feel pressure. Not from anyone or
anything—including today's blood test results. I made this decision separate
and apart from what I learned from Dr. Radison today. I want to make this
announcement, Carson. I planned on doing so whether or not I was a compatible
donor match."
She paused, then blurted out her thoughts without censoring them.
"I've had an amazing couple of weeks. Getting to know you has been like
being infused with a constant jolt of adrenaline—and we've just touched the tip
of the iceberg in terms of our relationship and what it might grow into. As for
having a hand in running Ruisseau, I've never felt more alive, more
challenged—and more honored. Your company encompasses all the positive team
spirit and drive for success that I try to convey in my CCTL workshops. It's
awesome to see its effects firsthand. I'm chomping at the bit to see what
happens next. Most of all, I'm dying to get you back in that CEO chair, so I
can work by your side. There's so much we can accomplish. And with you back
where you belong, and me there to add my energy and perspective to the
equation, Ruisseau's going to go through the roof."
A corner of Carson's mouth lifted. "So you
were
bluffing
about walking away if I refused to take your kidney."
She shook her head. "No, I wasn't. Which—given the
superlatives I just spouted, and how excited I am to take part in Ruisseau's
future—should tell you exactly how much my decision to be your kidney donor
means to me.
A heartbeat of silence.
"Yeah. It does." Carson reached out, squeezed her arm
briefly before extending his hand. "Let me see that announcement."
Sabrina gave it to him, watching his expression as he read it
through. "Change anything you want," she urged. "If I had my
way, it would be you making that announcement."
"It will be." He raised his head. "What time did
you call the meeting for?"
"Five-thirty."
"Good. That gives us plenty of time." He turned to
Dylan. "Call Marie. Tell her to get me a good videographer. She's got a
list of them. Find someone who's available today. I want him in ICU by this
afternoon, equipment in hand. I need the works—tripod, recording deck, lights,
microphone—you know the drill. In the meantime, you take care of things at the
other ead. Set up the necessary VCR equipment in the conference room at
Ruisseau. When the company's new president is introduced at five-thirty, the
one introducing her is going to be the CEO." He handed the page back to
Sabrina, gave her an approving smile. "By the way, what you wrote here is
great. Use any part of it you want to. But you'll be delivering it
after
I
make the announcement."
Anticipation glinted in Sabrina's eyes. "Nothing would please
me more."
"Nothing, huh? I could argue that one." There was an
amused, knowing look on Carson's face, and Sabrina could swear he darted a
quick glance in Dylan's direction before looking back at her. "But we'll
save that for another time. Right now, we have other things to discuss. Like the
media. Have you thought about how you're going to handle them? Because they'll
be breaking down your door by tonight"
"I'll handle them with as much candor and as few words as
possible."
"Not a word about knowing that formula," he reminded
her. "Remember."
"I remember."
"Now let's get to Gloria. Have you run all this by her?"
"We discussed it over the weekend. She's steeled and ready,
prepped for the media feeding-frenzy that'll take place in
Massachusetts—Rockport
and
Boston. She'll run interference for my
grandparents, and address what- ever personal questions she has to. She's a pro
when it comes to the press."
"Not a surprise. She's a class act. Will your grandparents be
okay?
"My fingers are crossed, but, yes, I think they will be. I'll
call them as soon as I leave the hospital and tell them everything they need to
know, including the tissue-typing results. They need to hear the entire
situation, and they need to hear it directly from me. I can handle it. And, in
the long run, so can they."
Carson frowned. "I hate that you have to go through this.
This whole scandal thing is what I wanted to spare you from."
"I know. But I'm tough. I inherited that from both my
parents—and my grandparents, too. Wait till you meet them. They're pretty
damned formidable."
"So I hear." Carson was clearly preoccupied, and not
with apprehension over meeting her grandparents. "The media's been getting
updates on my health," he said pensively. "They know where things
stand. Once news that you're my biological daughter leaks out, they're going to
jump all over the kidney issue."
"Fine. Again, I'll stick to the facts, giving as few details
as possible. I'll say the doctors are still hopeful that your kidneys will
resume normal function. I'll add that, in the meantime, I'm being tested, but I
don't have any conclusive results. When I do, they will, too. Period."
"Shit. This is going to turn into a tabloid circus."
Carson rubbed his forehead.
"If it does, it does. We'll deal with it." Sabrina lay
her hand on his arm. "Carson, you can't let this upset you. It'll affect
your blood pressure, and your recovery. I've already told you my family will
survive this. I'll make sure of it. As for Ruisseau, your staff's a tight,
united bunch. Their only concerns are making the company thrive and finding out
who shot you. Sure, they'll have some adjustments to my stepping in as
president, but they're not about to be thrown by a bunch of reporters grilling
them over your being a sperm donor. Is it Susan you're worried about? Will she
flip out over the press coverage?"
"What?" Carson looked at Sabrina as if she were crazy.
"Of course not. Susan's known this was coming since we told her who you
are. Besides, talk about a pro. She's so used to having flashbulbs go off in
her face and being asked if I'm as good a lay as I am a businessman, that
nothing frazzles her. No, I'm not worried about Susan. Or about Ruisseau. It's
you I'm worried about. You're going to be getting it from all sides—your
grandparents, antsy staff members from CCTL and Ruisseau, eager news correspondents,
and scum-of-the-earth tabloid reporters. You're already carrying the whole
goddamned world on your shoulders. The last thing you need is another load.
Goddammit, if I were only out of here, I could shield you from some of
it...." He slammed his fist to the bed. "This sucks." His head
jerked around, and he gazed straight at Dylan. "You're going to have to do
it for me. Take care of her. Do what you can."
Dylan nodded, although his expression was wary, as if he were
trying to figure out how much Carson knew. "I will. I'd already planned
to."
"I figured as much. I don't know what you had in mind, but
get her away from Ruisseau and from her apartment tonight. The press will be
camped outside both. Take her to your place. Cook dinner. You make a decent
linguini in white clam sauce. It wouldn't make Zagat's top fifty, but it's
better than average."
"Gee, thanks. Okay, I'll be Julia Child and the diversionary
committee all rolled into one. Not to worry."
"Excuse me," Sabrina interrupted. "I'm not some fragile
piece of china that needs to be handled gingerly. I won't break."
"I know." Carson dismissed her comment with a wave of
his hand. "You're tough as nails. No surprise. You're my daughter. Which
is exactly the problem—you're my daughter. And, hell, was Gloria right about
the protective instincts this whole parent scene conjures up. I'm just
beginning to find out what a wimp you become when your kid's well-being's at
stake." He snorted. "This fatherhood thing is something else."
Sabrina smiled, not only at Carson's words, but at his expression.
He might be bitching up a storm, but he didn't look upset. What he looked, was
self-satisfied and overprotective. Like he was settling into the father role
quite comfortably, rather than with the irritation he was feigning.
"That takes care of the media issue," he concluded.
"So, we've covered kidney donors, sperm donors, and presidential
announcements. Before we kick into high gear with this videotaping thing, is
there anything else? Any other bombs you want to drop on me today? Any business
issues we need to discuss?"
That brought Sabrina down to earth with a thud.
She hesitated, unsure whether or not now was the time.
Instantly, Carson picked up on her hesitation. "What is
it?"
"It's Stan," she forced herself to say. "I feel
really uncomfortable broaching this topic, not only because Stan's helped me
adjust, but because you two go back so many years. Unfortunately, I think I
have to."
"This is business. Not personal. Shoot. What's on your mind
about Stan?"
"To be blunt, he's a mess. I have no idea what's wrong, but
he's coming apart at the seams. It's possible he's having trouble adjusting to
my role at Ruisseau— my
real
role, since he's the only other person who
knows the whole truth—or it's possible he's having trouble adjusting to my
place in your life. Or maybe it's something entirely different. Whatever it is,
I seem to be the only one who's picked up on this in a major way. That could be
because he's more on edge around me. I remember your implying he had an issue
with self-esteem. I think we should get into that so I'll have a better handle
on how to deal with him."
"You're not the only one who's picked up on it," Dylan
corrected, catching her completely by surprise. "I have, too."
Sabrina gave him a startled look. "You never mentioned
anything."