She felt the same way about her own biological mother. She’d lived with her for the first six years of her life. Of course she’d loved her. And, of course, all kinds of negative emotions were mixed in with the love, but it was the love that made all of it hurt.
She understood that maybe better than anyone else.
But she was also an outsider in Griffin’s relationship with his mother. She could see, perhaps more clearly than he could, just how complicated this was. Unfortunately, none of this insight into the Cain family solved anything. None of this got her any closer to finding the heiress.
*
One of Griffin’s lifelong goals was to never be as much of an ass as his father. In fact, his goal was to never do anything like his father. Yet here he was, bullying his subordinate, bitching about his mother, Caro Cain, and drinking in the middle of the morning. In short, he was acting just like his dad. Funny how that had worked out.
Back in his office—Dalton’s office, really—he plunked himself down in Dalton’s chair, scrubbed a hand down his face, swallowed back his regrets and tried to think of how to dig his way out of this mess. First step, naturally, was to find something to eat. It was only ten, but breakfast had been a bowl of oatmeal five hours ago. He could feel the Scotch eating its way through the oats right now.
One of the peppermints Dalton always kept in his desk would do for starters. He unwrapped one of the Brach’s candies and plopped it in his mouth. Then he started pulling open drawers looking for some nuts or a granola bar or something. He knew Dalton well enough to figure that the guy had probably eaten about half his meals right here at this desk.
Tucked into the back of the second drawer, he found something far more interesting than a pack of almonds. Behind the stack of files was a nine-by-eleven manila envelope with the word Confidential stamped on the front. The return address was from a company out of L.A. that Dalton sometimes used to do employee background checks. Not the normal HR kind, either. The hardcore kind. Panic spiked through Griffin. This company did the kind of background check that would reveal a VP’s involvement with an international charity. Did Dalton know about Hope2O? If he did, then why the hell had he left Griffin in charge of Cain Enterprises?
In the bottom drawer, he found a jar of almonds and he poured a few out into his hand before opening the manila folder and pulling out the pages it contained. It took him several minutes of staring at the file before he realized what it contained—that was how surprised he was by the envelope’s contents.
It wasn’t a file on him. It was information about Sydney.
Dalton must have subcontracted the work when he’d decided to hire her full-time. Yeah, HR would handle all the reference checks and job recommendations, but it wasn’t uncommon for Dalton to hire out a more in-depth background search for someone in a position of authority at the company. And now that Griffin thought about it, that certainly described Sydney’s position. She knew everything about the company and had access to some very high-level stuff. She had more influence than most of the junior VPs. Certainly more than he had. So it only made sense. Still, he hadn’t been expecting it, so seeing the file surprised the hell out of him.
He mindlessly popped a few almonds into his mouth as he flipped through the pages. He hadn’t meant to read it. If he hadn’t been hungry and tired and just drunk two shots of Scotch in quick succession, he would have had the foresight to shove the pages back into the envelope and let it go.
Instead, his gaze scanned the pages almost without realizing he was doing it. And once he’d read some of it, he couldn’t stop. In fact, he had to read parts a second time, just because it all seemed so damn hard to believe. So completely out of character with the woman he knew.
Finally, he shoved the pages back into the envelope and buried it at the back of the drawer. He ate more nuts, hoping the salt would quell the queasy feeling in his stomach. It didn’t.
If he hadn’t felt like a total jackass before, he certainly did now. Here he’d been bitching about his sad childhood as the poor, ignored rich boy, and Sydney had real tragedy in her background. She was one bowl of porridge short of being a character in a Dickens novel. And he’d had the gall to complain to her.
He was surprised she hadn’t thrown his drink in his face and walked out on him right then.
Naturally, his first impulse was to apologize. But to do so he’d have to admit what he’d done, which would relieve his own guilt, but she wouldn’t be happy about it. Somehow, he didn’t think this was the kind of information she’d share with just everyone. After all, they’d been sleeping together for months and she hadn’t mentioned that she’d been a foster child. That Child Protective Services had removed her from her birth mother when she was six. Of course, before this morning, he hadn’t trotted out his pathetic tortured past, either. He hated being the object of pity and he suspected that Sydney felt the same way. No. It would be much better if he didn’t tell her at all. If he just buried the information in the nether regions of his brain and forgot all about it.
Which still left him with the issue of how to make it up to her for acting like an ass earlier. But that was an issue easily resolved.
He pushed back his chair and dropped the now empty almond container in the trash. On his way out of the office, he stopped back by the conference room. Sydney looked up as he stuck his head in the door, her expression wary.
Before she could ask, he said, “I’m going to follow your advice and go talk to my mother. See what she knows.”
Surprise flickered over Sydney’s face. “You are?”
“Yeah. I figure maybe you’re right about her. Maybe she can help.”
“Do you think she will?” Sydney closed the file in front of her and leaned forward eagerly. “I mean, she has nothing at stake in this. If she’s anything like you’ve described, maybe she won’t want to help.”
Strangely, that idea hadn’t actually occurred to him. “She might not be able to help. Her help might be more of a hindrance—” He gestured to the boxes to make his point. “But I’m sure she’ll want to help.”
“Even if finding the heiress gets her nothing?”
“She won’t see it that way. If I find the heiress, she knows I won’t cut her off cold. Dalton would never have done that, either, though I’m not sure if she’d have thought it through. It’s Cooper she has to worry about. Well, that and the whole shebang reverting to the state. No, she and I may not have a great relationship, but she knows I’ll treat her fairly. She’ll help if she can.” Sydney smiled so brightly, he added, “I’m still not sure how helpful she’ll be, but I’ll try.”
Sydney’s grin didn’t diminish a bit. “Thank you!”
*
In that moment she looked so lovely that he wanted to cross the room, pull her into his arms and kiss her. Not the kind of soul-searing kiss that would lead to her spread over the conference table na**d, but a simple kiss. The kind that would honor the delicacy of her beauty. The kind that would salve the wounds of a broken childhood. The kind that would promise her a lifetime of safety, security and emotional support.
But he didn’t know how to make those kinds of promises, let alone how to keep them, so instead he just nodded and walked away.
Seven
Traffic in Houston sucked. It always did. But for once, Griffin didn’t curse the snarl of cars slowing his trip to his parents’ house. He did not relish the upcoming conversation or the maternal theatrics that were sure to accompany it. The traffic on the loop was practically at a standstill, so instead of getting on, he pulled into a nearby parking lot and used the Bluetooth in his car to put in a call to Carl Nichols, his second in command at Hope2O.
He hadn’t yet told Carl about what was going on with Cain Enterprises. Until now, some part of him had genuinely believed that this would all blow over. That after a couple of days of crazy sex with Laney, Dalton would come to his senses and ask for his job back. But apparently, a little sanity on his brother’s part was too much to ask for. And because finding the heiress was proving more difficult than he’d expected, Griffin figured it was time to come clean with Carl so that things at Hope2O wouldn’t devolve too much while his own attention was elsewhere.
After Griffin explained, Carl was silent for a long minute. Then he said, “That sounds more like something you would do.”
Griffin snorted. “Right. I’ll just walk away from a half billion dollars.”
“Why not? Dalton did.”
“Dalton also got offers from ten other Fortune 500 companies within about five minutes of quitting.”
“Do you want to work for another Fortune 500 company?”
“Don’t be an ass,” Griffin said lightly. “You know I don’t want a job somewhere else. I barely do the job I have, even though it’s practically part-time. The only reason I’ve stayed at Cain Enterprises for as long as I have is because I want to get my hands on my inheritance so I can put it to work at Hope2O.”
“Right. And now your practically part-time job has turned into a full-time position as CEO.”
“Interim CEO,” Griffin interrupted.
“Interim or not, you’re going to have a hell of a time keeping up with that job and this one.”
Griffin glared at the sea of red brake lights still clogging the loop. “You’re right. But I don’t see any way around it. Either I do this job or I forfeit a fortune.”
Carl was silent for a long moment, then spoke with disappointment in his voice. “And you just can’t give up the money.”
“You know the money doesn’t mean jack to me. Hope2O needs the money. Not me.”
“No, Hope2O needs you on board all the time. It’s your expertise we need, not your money.”
“You think I should walk away like Dalton did?”
“Hey, I can’t tell you what to do. I’ve never had a carrot worth half a billion dollars, but ask yourself this—what has the promise of all that money ever gotten you?”