Free The Protégé by Stephen Frey Page A

Texas CEO could easily be replaced by several other high-level executives at the company whom Gillette had groomed personally in case there was ever a problem. Just as he did at all their portfolio companies.
    Just as he ought to be doing at Everest, he thought ruefully, tapping the butt end of the cue stick on the floor. The conversation with Faraday this afternoon about succession had gotten him thinking. There needed to be a plan in place, especially if Tom McGuire was really lurking around out there. He owed his investors that.
    Gillette snapped his fingers as he moved to rack the balls. “Damn it.” He was supposed to have called Faith this evening, but it was too late now. She was at some award dinner until eleven o’clock West Coast time.
    He took a deep breath and leaned against the table. He hated to admit it, but he missed Faith. She was wonderful—beautiful, sexy, caring, unpretentious despite her fame. But he didn’t like missing someone, feeling so vulnerable. Didn’t like caring about someone that much despite how good it made him feel inside. He’d adored—no, idolized—his father, and look where that had gotten him. Left him in an emotional abyss for years. All he could do for his father now was solve the mystery of his death. Which was why he planned to be available for Daniel Ganze whenever Ganze wanted. Ganze seemed to know something. That was enough.
    Gillette glanced around the ornate billiard room, connected to his office by a short hallway. The hallway was the only access to the room, so he controlled who came and went. This was the one big perk he’d allowed himself after becoming chairman last year. He loved pool—he’d funded his trip back to the West Coast after Lana had cut him off by beating small-town patsies for fifty bucks a game. And he found there were times during stressful days that a couple of quick games against David Wright were therapeutic.
    Gillette shook his head and smiled. He never had beaten his father in pool. Which he was glad about now. It seemed right.
    His cell phone rang. Probably Wright, he figured. The young MD had promised to stop by and shoot a few games. During the match, Gillette was going to tell him he wouldn’t be going to Los Angeles to open the office, but that he’d be promoted to managing partner. However, Wright had already left when Gillette buzzed a few hours ago, which was strange. Wright rarely missed a chance at face time.
    “Hello.”
    “Christian?”
    “Yes.”
    “It’s Allison Wallace.”
    “Oh, hi. Where are you?” he asked.
    “Still in New York. I’m staying at the Parker Meridien.”
    “I thought you and Gordon were flying back to Chicago this afternoon.”
    “Gordon did,” she answered, “but I decided to stay the weekend to see some friends.”
    “How did you get this number?” Gillette asked. He hadn’t given her the number, and Debbie would never give it out without permission.
    “I’m Allison Wallace,” she answered.
    Not smugly, he noticed, just matter-of-factly. He could tell by her tone she wasn’t going to say anything more about it, either. The same way he wouldn’t. “Look, I—”
    “Let’s have lunch Monday,” she suggested.
    “Can’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “I’m having lunch with the commissioner of the NFL. We got the new Las Vegas franchise today, and he wants to go over a few things.”
    “Fantastic,” she said breathlessly. “That’s really exciting. You better make that investment with Everest Eight, the fund I’m going to be in.”
    Gillette hesitated. He was planning to make the franchise purchase out of Seven, then issue Everest-guaranteed bonds to finance stadium construction. There wouldn’t be any need to use Eight for this deal. “I’m not sure how we’re going to fund it yet. We still have two billion left in Seven.”
    “Well, I think—”
    “How about breakfast,” he interrupted. He could hear her tone flexing, and he didn’t want to get into it now. He could