The Rebel. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
Marcus Salazar would have enjoyed the afternoon trail ride a whole lot more if he’d left his cell phone back at the ranch.
He’d set the device to vibrate after ignoring two calls from the office, but he still found himself checking it. He couldn’t help it. He’d come to Mesa Falls Ranch, a Western-style luxury corporate retreat here in Montana, for the most important business meeting of his life: to hammer out a deal with his half brother, Devon, that would finally give Marcus full control of Salazar Media. Their negotiations couldn’t start soon enough to suit him.
When his phone began buzzing again, he plucked it from the breast pocket of his canvas jacket and saw that it was Devon calling. Maybe his brother had finally arrived. Marcus reminded himself to be civil and start things on a positive note. He and Devon might have opposing views on the future of Salazar Media—and just about everything else—but there was no need to revisit old ground this week. He’d simply discover how to buy out Devon’s investment and they could sever ties at last. He swiped the screen to answer the call.
“I can meet you in the great room in twenty minutes,” Marcus said without preamble, grateful for the cooperative Appaloosa who didn’t seem to mind his busy hands. He tried to keep a level grip on the reins with one hand while he held the phone in the other, remembering basic horsemanship from his prep school days. “I took one of the horses out while I waited for you, but we’re almost back to the main lodge now.”
Squinting into the late-afternoon November sunlight, Marcus could see the pine-covered ridge that sheltered the stables on the six-thousand-acre ranch. The acreage was situated close to the Bitterroot River, a place his father, Alonzo Salazar, had visited often, and he’d talked of bringing Marcus and Devon there for a trip on several occasions.
When they’d been kids, there’d been bad blood between their mothers that had made the trip too difficult to orchestrate. And later there’d been plenty of enmity between the men themselves. Now it was too late. Marcus and Devon had said their final goodbyes to Alonzo Salazar last summer after a battle with pancreatic cancer that was over far too quickly. Their father was gone, and he’d been the only reason the brothers had been civil to each other outside the family business.
They probably could have dissolved the rest of their ties without coming here, but they were fulfilling a deathbed promise to their father to meet at the ranch before they went their separate ways. For reasons Marcus still didn’t understand, their dad had been determined to get Marcus and Devon to this corner of western Montana.
“I’m not in town yet, unfortunately.” Devon’s voice competed with a lot of background noise. An announcement over a loudspeaker. The hum of other voices. “I’m still in the airport in Mumbai.”
“Mumbai?” Marcus leaned back in the saddle, stopping the horse on the trail so he could give the call his full attention. “As in the other side of the globe?”
Frustration simmered in his veins. His brother wouldn’t arrive for at least another day.
“I would have called sooner, but my phone and passport were both stolen and I was…detained by customs.” His brother sounded pissed. And exhausted.
“Did you recover the phone?” Confused, Marcus checked the caller ID and saw his brother’s face, only to realize Devon had contacted him through a social media messaging service, not a regular call.
“No. I bought a new one at an airport kiosk.” Devon’s voice rasped like a man who’d been talking for hours. “I’ve got a message in to the embassy to get some help returning to the States, but in the meantime, I—” there was interference on the call, as if Devon was walking through a wind tunnel “—should be in Montana soon.”
“I missed that.” Marcus nudged the Appaloosa’s flanks, wondering if the cell signal was weak in this heavily wooded section of the trail. The mare started forward again. “I just finalized the deal to bring on Mesa Falls Ranch as a client.” He’d been working on that angle with the ranch owners ever since he’d realized the trip here was inevitable, and he’d received a verbal agreement from one of them earlier in the day. “I can take an extra day to work on their account personally, but if you’re not here in forty-eight hours, I’m flying back to Los Angeles.”
Marcus handled the West Coast office. Devon was his copresident in New York. Only their father had outranked them, and he’d been a mostly silent figurehead CEO.
“There’s no need. I—” Devon’s words faded as the connection cut out again “—as an emissary. She can speak for me—”
A loud crackling noise hissed through the device.
“Who?” Marcus strained to hear what his brother was saying, the tinny voice over a loudspeaker drowning out some of Devon’s words and the poor call quality muting even more. “Is someone coming to the ranch for you?”
“—will message you. Sorry about this.”
The connection cut out completely.
Marcus glared down at his phone to see Devon’s social media photo staring back at him. How could Devon have waited until the last minute to get on a flight to Montana? Even on the company jet—and he didn’t have it in Mumbai—the trip would have been eighteen hours, give or take.
Although, having been detained in customs overseas himself, Marcus knew it wasn’t a picnic. Besides, maybe Devon’s guilt over not making their meeting would play into Marcus’s hands in helping him win control of Salazar Media for good. The company had been his brainchild, after all. His father and brother had only signed on for financial support, with their father assuming the CEO position simply because he’d been effective in brokering an accord between his warring copresident sons. With their father’s death, there was a power vacuum that Marcus planned to fill. As the creative founder, Marcus deserved the CEO role, and he planned to have it or he’d leave the company that he’d started.
Jamming the phone in his breast pocket, he urged his mount faster, racing hard toward the main lodge on Mesa Falls Ranch. The retreat had undeniable appeal. The fact that the mountains and the wide-open spaces could distract him from his frustration for even a moment was a testament to the place’s beauty. A consortium of owners—six in all—had maintained the lands and shared the cattle for the last eight years, with each of them having a home on the acreage. But the group had decided to open the land to guests a year ago, in an effort to fund their move to sustainable ranching. Sensing a business opportunity for Salazar Media, Marcus had opened a dialogue with the group, hoping to secure their account. The owners had made a verbal commitment to six months’ worth of social media advertising with Salazar, with an option for extending the contract if they were pleased. Marcus planned to set up a few appointments with key members of the ranching staff—to make his presence felt here—and then head back to LA once the finalized contracts were signed.
His conscience would be clear that he’d at least tried to meet Devon at the retreat. If Devon couldn’t bother showing up, that was on him.
As Marcus reined in behind the stables, he could see a shiny black Escalade pull up to the huge main lodge. A liveried driver hopped out and jogged around to the back, where tinted windows prevented Marcus from seeing inside. His brother’s words floated back to his brain—something about an emissary.
Could Devon have sent someone to the ranch in his place? It galled him to think his brother had managed to arrange for a replacement, because he would have had to make the arrangements hours ago. Clearly, phoning his own brother to let him know he was delayed hadn’t been his first priority.
He slid down to the ground and handed over the Appaloosa’s reins to a waiting stable hand. He thanked the guy and kept his eye on the Escalade as the back door opened and a decidedly feminine leg appeared.
A black high heeled boot. A slender calf. A sliver of gray pin-striped skirt.
She can speak for me…
The words blasted back into his mind as the only woman who was ever allowed