Free The Heir & I: Precarious Passions by Lara Hunter

acknowledged his words in a listless tone. “Look, I’ll be back to work in just a few days, I just need some time to…”
     
    “Actually, Oliver,” Vic interrupted me, adding in a slow, halting tone, “The board here at Clark Industries would like you to attend a meeting here at the office this afternoon. I know this is terrible timing and I do hope that you will forgive our lack of tact. The fact remains, however, that we have an urgent matter we need to discuss with you.”
     
    I sighed.
     
    “Sorry to say this, Vic, but your timing isn’t just bad. It’s downright terrible,” I told him, adding with a shrug, “Short of our office building catching fire, which I’m assuming hasn’t happened, what on earth would necessitate a meeting today? Couldn’t we at least wait until tomorrow, when I could get my head together and give you my full attention?”
     
    Vic sighed.
     
    “Although the office building isn’t on fire, the company that it houses might be in danger,” he revealed, adding in a low, sincere tone, “We need you here, Oliver. Now.”
    I thought a moment, then nodded.
     
    “OK, Vic,” I said finally. “I’ll be there.”
     
    After dragging myself into the shower and throwing on my only clean suit, I headed into the office; offering everyone I passed a forced smile and the reassurance that I was, “Just fine, thanks.”
     
    Yet when I stepped into the crisp board room that adjoined my father’s office, I immediately missed the expressions of sympathy that had greeted me upon my arrival.
     
    Indeed, the people seated at the long meeting table at the center of the room all wore unsmiling, even stern expressions and in lieu of looking directly in my eyes, most of them instead pinned CFO Vic Belmont—a chunky, balding man in his early sixties—with an expectant gaze.
     
    Not about to let them down, Vic offered me a seat at the table with the smooth wave of his chubby little hand; then leaned forward to greet me with eyes that were anything but kind.
     
    “How are you doing, Olli?” He made a downright feeble attempt at a faint, paternal grin. “We’ve all been very worried about you, and we can’t say enough to express…”
     
    “Thanks Vic,” I interrupted him, sitting straight up in my seat and folding my hands before me. “Now please tell me why you dragged me in here today. What was so important that it couldn’t wait?”
     
    Blinking at my abrupt tone, Victor cleared his throat loudly as his expression hardened and set.
     
    “As I said on the phone, Oliver, we are all very sorry to hear about your father’s untimely passing. He was a great man indeed, and truly one of a kind,” he paused here, adding as he ducked his head, “And unfortunately, that’s the main reason we have to speak with you today. In setting up this company, your father Harry also established a legacy; a strong corporate entity with a structure, an operational process and a stellar reputation that we as his board members—and his friends—must rush to protect and preserve at this time.”
     
    I nodded.
     
    “Understood,” I allowed, adding with my hands extended, “And I promise you, Vic, that as I assume leadership of this company I will need the board’s help. I promise to ask and follow your advice, on each and every decision you make.”
     
    Vic looked at me a moment; still and silent as he considered words that were meant to reassure him.
     
    “As much as we like you as a person, Oliver, I’m afraid that your reassurance and your fresh commitment to us simply aren’t enough,” he told me, adding with a hard sigh, “When you were a baby, Olli, I used to bounce you on my knee. This is why this is so hard to say.”
     
    “Say it!” I prompted him, fists clenching at my sides. “Just say it, Victor.”
     
    Vic shook his head.
     
    “After some careful consideration, Oliver, we have decided as a board that you lack the skills, experience and qualifications to fill your