Banking on Him

“You’ll never believe who just got out of prison.”

Caught off guard, Kirk Sterling looked up from his laptop as his mother breezed into the meeting room. She took off her sunglasses, the corners of her mouth turned down into her usual disapproving frown.

“I assume you’re going to tell me.” He didn’t give a damn about gossip. That was his mother’s currency. The leverage she used against their family’s enemies. And the Sterlings had too many enemies to count.

His own currency had always been knowing exactly which pressure points to push until an adversary turned into an ally and handed over whatever he wanted. As the vice president of Sterling Investment Bank, he lived by one code alone: finding someone’s weakness to bend things to his will. On that score he was exactly like his mother, though he was loath to admit it. Every Sterling had a ruthless streak. Owning one of the largest multinational banks on earth guaranteed that trait, even if part of him wished that it didn’t.

She snatched the TV remote from the table he was working at and turned on the television. “Haven’t you heard?”

He folded his arms in annoyance and glanced at the wide-screen TV. Surprise made his body go rigid as memories of the past hit him like a ton of bricks. “Shit, that’s Lloyd Livingston.”

His mother nodded. “He got out on parole four years early on good behavior.”

Footage of a gray-haired Lloyd Livingston limping out of prison flashed on the screen. Kirk shook his head in disbelief. When Lloyd had been sent to prison nearly ten years ago, he’d been in the prime of his life. Of all the Sterling family’s enemies, Lloyd had been the most dangerous by far. For years Kirk’s parents had worked for the Livingston family, steadily climbing their way to the top of the corporate ladder, until his ruthless father had knocked the Livingstons off their golden tower. Knocked them off, seized their company, and exposed Lloyd Livingston’s crime and corruption so thoroughly that he had been sent to prison. Now he was out. A free man.

“He looks terrible,” Kirk finally said.

“Don’t get all soft-hearted,” his mother warned. “He treated your father and me like dirt all the years that we worked for him. That man will always be a snake.”

“I’m not getting soft-hearted. He just looks so different.” Despite the bad blood between the families, Kirk couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for Lloyd. Before ending up in prison Lloyd had been stripped of his wealth, leaving his family in the poorhouse. The Livingstons had been one of the most powerful families in America until his parents had utterly ruined them.

He reminded himself that the Livingstons had been destroyed by the very forces that had made them successful for generations. The only way to get to the top was to knock down all the people above you. That was how the Livingstons had ended up amassing so much wealth over more than a century. After over a hundred years of complacency, his upstart parents had showed them that mistreating their subordinates would cost them dearly. The Livingstons had been ready to toss his parents under the bus to save themselves when their misdeeds were coming to light. What choice had his parents had?

Throwing the Livingstons into the abyss had been his family’s gain, and they now had more wealth than they had ever dreamed of. In his thirty-two years he had gone from living in a one-bedroom apartment with his parents and brothers to having the world within his reach.

“Now that he’s out we need to look over our shoulders,” she said, lowering her voice.

There was nobody else in the glass-encased meeting room, but paranoia was another of his mother’s traits. She always thought someone was out to get them. Though, considering how many enemies they had, some of her paranoia was understandable.

“We have other problems.” He leaned back in his chair. “We’ve got a meeting with some pissed-off investors in fifteen minutes.”

“Forget that.” She smoothed down her stylishly cut silver hair and eyed him. “Our mortgage loan officer decided to have his baby today.”

“It’s hardly his fault that his wife went into labor.” He forced himself to keep his exasperation to himself. “So, Steven is going to be a father. I’ll have my secretary send a card and a gift.”

“Steven isn’t here today, so I expect you to handle his clients.”

Kirk narrowed his eyes. Doing a task that menial was only going to piss him off. “Get one of the managers to do it.”

“If you want to take over the reins from your father and be president someday, you have to prove yourself,” she chided.

His mother was always dangling that carrot over his head, though she never wanted to seriously discuss his ambitions. Because she knew that taking over the family business was all that he had ever wanted. Running SIB was his chance to prove himself. Prove that his trajectory wasn’t luck. Prove that even though he was new money, he belonged here just as much as the old-money families. Just as much as the people who resented the fact that the Sterlings had exposed Lloyd Livingston and the corruption at the heart of San Diego’s old financial system.

If he ran SIB, he could expand the company. Use his vision to surpass his father. Secure the family’s legacy. A second generation taking over the bank would turn them from new money upstarts into a dynasty that had as much right to a place in the upper class as all the old blue bloods who looked down at them.

“How is this a way to prove myself?” he finally asked.

“Rolling up your sleeves and getting your hands dirty shows that you’re still tough,” his mother said. “Show me that all this money hasn’t spoiled you.”

“You expect that to sway me?” he demanded. “I need more than words. Give me assurances.”

His mother sighed, her shoulders heaving in frustration. She hated pushback of any kind, but he wasn’t going to let her control his destiny. Not now that Lloyd Livingston’s release served as a stark reminder of just how much they stood to lose if they let the past rule them. Now wasn’t the time to cower and look over their shoulders. It was time to act. To make their own future. And he intended to be the architect of that future no matter how hard he had to fight his own mother to do it.

“If you do this, we’ll talk,” she said. “Talk for real. You give me your ideas and I’ll take them to your father.”

“I’ll be holding you to that,” he warned. “No more stalling. I want a bigger stake in the company.”

His mother’s lips formed a rigid line. “As you wish. And while we’re making demands, I still think we need to take Lloyd Livingston seriously. Now that he’s out of prison he’s liable to come after us.”

“With what?” Kirk stood up and grabbed his laptop. “Lloyd Livingston’s broke. Nobody in this town will give him the time of day. His life is over. Basically.”

“Never underestimate the power of a lust for vengeance,” she said. “Before he went to prison, he vowed to destroy us. I take that vow very seriously. So should you.”

He headed for the glass door without responding. If she wanted to give in to her paranoia, that was on her. Right now, he had a task to complete. And then, he would claim the future that was rightfully his.

TALKING ABOUT LOANS was a draining exercise. A reminder of where Kirk and his family had started—the gutter. When lunch time finally came around, he decided to deal with one more client before getting the hell out of Steven McGrath’s pitifully small mortgage loan office.

Kirk reached for the phone. “Hold all calls,” he instructed the secretary on the other end. Not waiting for a response he hung up, his attention caught by the office door swinging open.

As his next client sashayed in, he just… froze. He didn’t know why the air squeezed out of his lungs. Didn’t know why the temperature in the room rose so many degrees that he tugged at his collar in a desperate effort to breathe.

He had dated so many beautiful women that it took more than looks to catch his attention anymore. Not with her. Everything about her was arresting. From the blond waves that cascaded down her shoulders to her mile-long legs. And the way she walked. She was as graceful as a dancer, her head held high and her shoulders thrown back.

When their eyes locked, he had the sudden realization that he recognized her. Knew her from somewhere but couldn’t place it. There was no way in hell he had slept with her or dated her. He’d remember bedding a woman this beautiful. And if he had ever done anything more serious with her, he wouldn’t have let her go without a fight.

Her eyes widened as if she recognized him, too. Though she composed herself quickly enough to stretch out her hand. “Hi. I’m Bethany… Walker.” She tilted her head. “You’re Kirk Sterling.”

He got up to take her small hand. Squeezed it. Didn’t want to let it go. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Without thinking his thumb brushed against her skin, and he pulled his hand back suddenly. Any kind of romantic contact with a client was unacceptable, no matter how much he relished touching her. “I am. How do you know me?”

Bethany smiled, her full pink lips distracting him. Her kissable mouth was making his pulse race as the smile on her sinful, sensuous lips widened. “Everybody in San Diego knows who you are. I just didn’t expect you to be my loan officer.” She let out a laugh. It was a breathy, nervous sound that he wanted to hear again and again.

His reaction to her stunned him. Sudden infatuation wasn’t his style. Kirk’s entire life centered on his work and ambitions. He scheduled women in, and if he couldn’t make time he broke things off before they got the wrong idea. Women weren’t a priority for him, and yet, right now he’d give anything to take this woman out to dinner.

“I’m filling in for Steven today. Please, sit.” He motioned to the chair on the other side of the desk before taking his seat. “I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

Bethany sat down and crossed her legs. She had the grace of a ballet dancer, but she exuded far too much sex appeal to be a ballerina. Honestly, she looked more like a movie star than anything else. “I don’t think so. Unless you know about my designs…”

“What do you design?” he asked.

Bethany lowered her captivating blue eyes, as if the question was making her shy for some reason. “Oh, mostly clothes.” She pulled out some forms from a binder that he noticed for the first time. “I make fine clothing for women and suits for men.”

“Make them?” He leaned forward, studying her with interest. “You create the clothes as well?”

“Yes,” she said with an enthusiastic nod. “I design them and then sew them—make them.”

“By yourself? You don’t have a staff to help you do that?”

“Not yet.” She gave him a faltering smile. “That’s why I’ve come in for a loan. I want to buy a store with a workshop. That way I’ll have a staff to help create my designs, build my brand.”

He thought over her explanation for a moment, realizing that sewing all her creations by herself must take hundreds of hours. “Doing all that work on your own is a massive commitment.”

“Yes, it is.” She took a deep breath. “Which is why I want a store of my own with staff. Right now it takes so long for me to make an outfit myself, which means I don’t make as much money as I could if I had workers to help me.”

“Let me have a look at your loan application,” he said, intrigued with her business idea.

She handed the application over to him and he scanned the forms. When he stopped at her income he actually felt sympathy. Her situation reminded him of his early childhood when his parents had been flat broke. There was no way one person could get by on a wage like hers. Not if they hoped to have a roof over their head and three square meals a day.

Kirk stole a glance at her. Her dress was well tailored and looked expensive. He suspected she had probably made it herself, and her jewelry actually looked genuine. If he didn’t know better, from her bearing and her clothing he would have guessed that Bethany came from money. Her shoes were the giveaway, though.

He sure as hell wasn’t an expert on women’s fashion, but even he could see how scuffed and worn her shoes were. A lot of people coming in for loans wore their best clothes so that they would look responsible, rather than what they actually were. Desperate. Bethany had probably done the same thing. Worn the finest clothes she owned so that she could come to SIB and ask for a loan.

Judging from how much attention she had paid to properly fill out all the loan forms, it was clear that she was as driven as he was. He admired that ambition. Many of the wealthy people in his world were content to live off their billions without accomplishing anything. And yet here she was, trying to make her dreams a reality.

“It says here that you were born in Italy,” he said, still going over her forms.

“Yes. It’s a beautiful country.” Her blue eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together in obvious excitement. “The architecture is simply amazing. And the food.” She closed her eyes and let out the tiniest moan that sent his pulse racing. “It’s absolutely divine.”

There was something infectious about her. Like her enthusiasm might rub off on him. Usually that would have put him on guard because, frankly, earnestness wasn’t something he trusted in his world. But he couldn’t help being charmed by her. “So, you remember Italy?”

“Well, I don’t remember it when I was born,” she said with a laugh. “But I went back on a college exchange program when I went to design school and it was incredible. Have you ever been?”

No wonder she seemed like she came from money. Her travels had probably made her worldly. “No, I haven’t,” he replied.

“Oh, you’d love it. And the men there are so handsome. You’d fit right in.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she spoke.

As arrogant as it sounded, Kirk wasn’t surprised that she was flirting with him. A lot of women did. It was the way she flirted that impressed him. Subtle, classy. Left him wanting a hell of a lot more. “If I had a tour guide as lovely as you I might have visited Italy a long time ago.”

She blushed again. “Maybe someday…”

If he didn’t get back control of their conversation, things were liable to get unprofessional pretty damn quickly. “Your education in Italy has served you well. You’ve certainly done your homework. Your five-year business plan is thorough and well thought out. Unfortunately, your credit score is an issue.”

For the first time, her face fell. She sagged in her chair. “My ex-boyfriend took my credit cards, line of credit and anything he could get his hands on, then basically maxed everything out. I’m trying to get it cleared, but it’s next to impossible. And I refuse to pay off a debt I didn’t create.”

The debt was a huge problem. If she had a good credit score her company had a good shot at being a success, but a credit score like hers wasn’t something SIB could possible take on. “While I admire you sticking to your principals, debt is a tough sell.”

“It’s just been a hard several years,” she said softly. A shadow of sadness fell over her eyes and she looked down, avoiding his gaze.

Letting a stranger like him go over her financial records must have been agony for her. It was then that he noticed how fragile she seemed now that she had shifted in her seat. “It’s almost lunch time. Have you had lunch yet?”

“I’ve eaten,” she murmured. “I went to a diner and got some soup.”

“What kind?” he asked. “Something Italian?”

“Oh, nothing fancy.” She sighed heavily. “Just some ketchup in water. I added salt to season it.”

“What?”

She flinched but lifted her gaze to look at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”

“I shouldn’t have tried to pry,” he said quickly.

The silence that followed was like a deafening roar. A condemnation of his good fortune. Sometimes it was easy to forget his own humble beginnings. At this level of success, problems seemed enormous. Being in charge of billions of dollars was a unique kind of pressure. But having to improvise a meal sounded like something out of Victorian-era novel. One of those books about orphans and street urchins.

Bethany had walked in here with so much confidence. So much excitement about her dreams. Now her sudden frailty gave her a waifish air. As if she would be crushed at any moment. If he was going to deny her loan request, the least he could do was offer her a meal. “Bethany,” he started, and swallowed, trying to figure out why he was so nervous. “How would you like to go to lunch with me?”