Volatile Chemistry (Billionaires' Secrets Book 1) (10 page)

Dominic shifted in his chair. He wished he thought it was meaningless, but he knew deep down it wasn’t At least not to him.

If he wanted revenge, he could take over the company then defy his father’s wishes by selling it or breaking it up. He could reduce the proud Hardcastle Empire to a handful of dust and memories.

Which, of course, he would never do in a million years. His mom hadn’t raised him that way.

Sometimes a deep sense of honor could be a real pain in the ass.

“And nothing makes me prouder than being able to share our best quarter ever with
my son.”

Tarrant’s emotion-laden voice boomed along the walnut table. Dominic snapped out of his trance. Best quarter ever? He really should be listening.

The words
my son
rang in his ears. He smiled to the polite applause of the gathered Hardcastle executives and the bigwigs from other companies who sat on the board.

Was this some kind of call to arms? A test to see if he could show the family loyalty his deadbeat dad never had.

What would Tarrant do if he knew his “son” was sleeping with the enemy?

Chapter Ten

D
ominic agreed to accompany Tarrant to his favorite cigar bar for a celebratory round of drinks after the meeting. When the doors to the elevator opened, he saw Bella inside.

Heat flashed over his skin and made his tie feel tight.

Tarrant ushered him and the other executives into the narrow space. “You’ve met the lovely Bella Andrews, haven’t you, Dominic?”

“Yes.”

Her fitted dress—only slightly the worse for wear from being crushed under their two sweating bodies—still clung to her enticing curves. He could imagine only too well what she’d look like without it.

Now his pants felt tight.

“Bella, my dear, we’re going for a drink, why don’t you join us?”

“I’d love to, but—” She shot a glance at Dominic. He saw her swallow hard. “I have a lot of work to catch up on. I’m just going to get a coffee, then head back to the lab.”

So you can waltz back in after-hours and spend quality time with the files.

Tarrant smiled. “So dedicated. And a body like Marilyn Monroe.”

Dominic glanced at Bella, who stared at Tarrant with her lips pressed together. He cleared his throat. “I believe that’s called sexual harassment,
Dad.”

“Oh, everyone around here knows I’m incorrigible.” Tarrant winked. “If I didn’t own the joint I’d have been fired years ago.” The suited executives shared his chuckle. He put his arm around Dominic and marched him out the door on a cloud of testosterone.

Dominic resisted the urge to shake his head. No wonder Tarrant thought he walked on water. No one had the balls to tell him it was Plexiglass.

But why did it suddenly bother him that Bella was cheating his father?

Bella’s hand shook as she added cream to her coffee in the deli.

Dominic’s nod of acknowledgement in the elevator had been so cool. What did she expect? Their torrid lovemaking hadn’t been followed by vows of love, or even affectionate cuddling.

He’d rolled aside and strode off to remove the condom. Came back dressed, his tie done up tight, and a dark, closed expression on his face.

The fun was over. Though fun wasn’t the right word. There had been nothing playful about their lovemaking.

Some of the stinging, urgent desperation still clung to her. She’d been such easy prey. She deserved his scorn.

He’d used her to prove a point. That she’d do anything to keep her secret. No doubt he thought she’d just slept with him to keep him quiet. Shame tightened her muscles, compounded by the pathetic reality that his opportunistic embrace had meant so much to her.

Yes, apparently she was that starved for affection.

She’d better get a grip on herself because Dominic Hardcastle—or whatever name he usually went by—would never love
her.

He’d love someone though, with the force and passion evident in the way he did everything. She admired the way he’d stood up to his father in the elevator. If everyone were more honest with Tarrant, maybe he wouldn’t be so insufferable.

Bella tried to tear her thoughts from Dominic. Thinking about the impossible only intensified her loneliness. It was especially hard and strange feeling so alone as bodies pushed and jostled by her on the crowded sidewalk—everyone in a big rush to get home for the weekend.

She was in no hurry to go back to a house full of memories but empty of the people who once brought it to life.

Week by week, the life energy of the place seemed to slip away. Bella fought to keep alive the vision of her mother back in her beloved garden, complaining about tomato hornworms and Japanese beetles, and exclaiming over the size of her David Austin roses.

It would happen. It had to.

And because it had to, she needed to complete her search tonight.

Now that he’d
had
her, Domi
n
ic could tire of her and expose her at any minute. Shame pinched her skin as she realized she had nothing left to bargain with. Such an easy mark.

Just before ten o’clock, she yanked open a drawer she’d checked before. She’d already copied all the obviously important documentation in the drawer, but now an empty hanging folder caught her eye. Had she forgotten to put something back? Or filed it in the wrong place?

Bella peered into the green depths and spotted a small manila envelope.

She plucked it out. On the front of the envelope was the address of Hardcastle Enterprises, and in the return address slot was...

Her parents’ address. Scrawled in her father’s familiar ballpoint chicken scratch.

Heart in her mouth, she fished into the envelope and plucked out several small folded sheets of writing paper.

She opened one up and saw that it was typed on the ridiculous old manual typewriter her father used for his personal correspondence with colleagues all over the world. God forbid there should be a computer record of anything he ever sent anywhere.

Her pulse rattled so fast that she couldn’t concentrate and her hands began to shake, blurring the closely written letters.

Too impatient for the copy machine, she shoved the letters into her briefcase, fastened it shut, and headed for the door.

As the evening wore on, Dominic’s animosity toward his colorful father seemed to get sucked into the vents at El Cubano, along with the expensive cigar smoke. Flamboyant and egocentric as he was, Tarrant Hardcastle did everything with a passion that was infectious.

“I still miss the old cash registers. I loved the sound of the drawer slamming shut and the change jingling. Stirs my blood just thinking about it.” Tarrant lifted his whiskey glass to the light. “Simple pleasures, dear boy, it’s the simple pleasures that count.”

Dominic shifted in his leather armchair. Curiosity pricked him. “Is there anything you want to accomplish that you haven’t done yet?”

“See you take over the helm.” Tarrant shot him a winning smile.

“Apart from that.” Dominic ignored the nagging sensation in his gut. “What about something you wish you’d done differently?”

“Oh...” Tarrant paused for a deep puff on his cigar. Blew out a long stream of smoke. “You mean aside from becoming hooked on these babies? Yes. I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Didn’t do too much of that when I was younger. Thought it was a waste of time.” He contemplated the ash on the end of his cigar. “I was a man of action, and sometimes reaction. I’m ashamed to admit the amount of times I’ve done something out of simple revenge.” He took a slug of his whiskey.

“I like to win. If someone wants something, then I want it more, and damn it,
I’ll
get it. I thought it was the natural way to do things. Now it seems rather petty and shallow. If I’d grown this business without paying any attention to who I wanted to outsell or outclass, who knows where I’d be today? Don’t ever let malice drive your bottom line.”

Dominic swallowed. His whiskey glass sweated in his hand, still full. He didn’t want to start drinking and maybe get emotional. Too much at stake.

Tarrant leaned forward. “But I can see you’d never act out of something so petty as revenge.” He patted Dominic’s knee. “Or the first thing you’d have done was tell me where to get off. Either that or agree to take over my stores and laugh all the way to the bank.” Tarrant let out a laugh.

His blue-green eyes twinkled. “Nope. You’re a class act all the way, Dominic. You’re polite to the old man, kind even, but you don’t want a single thing I have to offer.” He shook his head, a smile lifting his thin mouth. “If you weren’t my son I’d wish you were.”

Dominic took a hasty swig of his whiskey. How could he let this line of bullshit choke him up? He knew better than anyone that Tarrant Hardcastle was a master manipulator who always had an agenda. Was he still kidding himself that he planned to get revenge on the man? He needed to stop beating around the bush and get out of here before Tarrant suckered him into running the show.

“You do have something I want.” Dominic heard his own voice, cool as steel.

“Oh?” A silver eyebrow lifted.

Dominic leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You remember the Lester chain of pharmacies?”

“Oh yes. Out in the Midwest somewhere.” He waved his cigar dismissively. “Did we buy those? I can’t recall.”

“Yes.” Dominic kept a straight face. “You did. Though I can’t figure out how, since I bid twelve
mi
llion for them and you bought them for eleven.”

Tarrant stared at him for a moment, his tanned brow furrowed. Then a smile snuck over his face and lit up his eyes. He burst into a loud guffaw. ‘That was you?”

“That was me.” Dominic had a hard time not joining Tarrant in a smile. That damned infectious enthusiasm again.

“It’s all about contacts. Who you know, dear boy, who you know.” He held up his whiskey glass. “They’re yours.”

Dominic held his glass still. “I don’t want them as a gift.”

“Then give me fifty bucks for ’em.” Tarrant narrowed his sharp eyes. “Not worth much more if you ask me. Who the hell wants real estate in Trisket Falls, Iowa?” He broke into the laugh again. “Only bought ’em so Stan Richards over at Federal couldn’t get his damn hands on them for more of those dreadful discount stores. Revenge again! I’m not proud of myself, honestly I’m not. There’re a lot of people out there who think I deserve to die.” Tarrant sat back in his leather chair, suddenly small against the broad leather back and plush arms.

“You’re not going to die.” Dominic spoke with conviction. How could someone this full of spit and vinegar be on the brink of death?

“If wishes were horses...” Tarrant waved his cigar in the air. “I’d have a billion-dollar stud farm. But as it is, I’ve been given three months to live and even I can’t laugh off a deadline like that” He gestured to a waiter hovering a few feet away, and the man refilled their glasses. “So, what’re you going to do with ’em?”

“I want to bring my food stores to the Midwest. I’ve already expanded into the Southeast and the Northwest.”

Tarrant frowned. “They don’t want gourmet pesto in the Midwest.”

“Sure they do, if it’s three-fifty a jar.”

“And you can do it for that?”

Dominic nodded. “Organic too.”

“Well, hell.” Tarrant raised his glass, and this time Dominic did join him. Couldn’t help himself. His dad’s delighted grin swelled in the air and fixed itself on his own face.

“I guess people are eating differently these days. Pesto on Main Street, huh? Never thought I’d live to see it.” He shook
his
head. “I guess you have to grow up on Main Street to know the people. Your mother told me you moved around quite a bit.”

Anger pricked Dominic that Tarrant could speak so casually of the woman he’d screwed, then screwed over. But he was glad to prove they’d made it just fine without him. “She became an accountant for a trucking firm. We moved where her work took her.”

“Good for her. It’s a good thing you didn’t grow up with me, as you’d have led a dissipated, sheltered existence hobnobbing with other young twits in the Northeast’s most expensive boarding schools. Much better to be streetwise. Your mother told me you were selling things on an upturned crate almost before you could read.”

“That’s a slight exaggeration.”

“I think she was trying to make me feel guilty. All it did was make me proud.” Tarrant leaned forward and patted Dominic on the knee. Moisture glittered in his eyes.

Dominic sucked in a breath and took another chug of whiskey.

“Dominic.” Tarrant leaned even closer. “Will you
pro
mise
me something?”

His stomach tightened. “It depends.”

Tarrant smiled. “Good. Good. I like that you’re not just buttering me up. Because I want you to promise to be different from me.”

Dominic frowned. Tarrant’s cologne stung his nostrils.

“I
devoted my life to having a damn good time and
makin
g
a damn lot of money. Nothing wrong with those things,
mind
you, but in the end, they’re not enough.”