Children of Dynasty by Christine Carroll Read Free Book Online

a far cry from school days.” He looked chagrined. “I so hoped you and Arnold would get along. He’s our most promising young executive.”
    “Considering that most of them are over fifty, he’s your only young manager. Except for me.”
    “You are young yet,” John said. “This is the big league, Mariah, and Rory works for the competition.”
    “I’m aware of where he works.” Her voice matched the tautness of his. Why was her usually reasonable father unreasonable over the Campbells? “Dad, you don’t act this way about Golden or any of the other competitors. Takei Takayashi has beat you up on bids over the years, and you two play golf at least once a month.”
    “Campbell is different,” John insisted. “I saw the look on your face when you spoke of running into Rory at the party.” A muscle worked in the side of his cheek. “Are you seeing him again?”
    Bitter laughter burst from her. “One thing I can assure you. I am not seeing Rory Campbell.”
    Her father stared at her, the hard look in his gray eyes foreign. She met his gaze without flinching, for she’d told the truth. Finally, he softened. “All right, daughter.”
    Leaving the conference room, she noted a baleful glare from Arnold, who was in the hall.
    When she got to her office, the phone was ringing. She stepped across the green carpet of the executive floor and answered, “Mariah Grant.”
    “Bad time?” Rory asked without identifying himself. Back in the old days, they’d called and just started in talking.
    She nearly dropped the receiver. “What are you thinking to call me here?”
    “Be kind.” He spoke softly, and she wondered if he was at DCI. “Here I sit, quaking in my boots because I mustered the nerve to dial your number.”
    She couldn’t forget watching him escort another woman home. “Did you and Sylvia have a nice weekend?”
    “Jealous?” He sounded hopeful.
    “Don’t flatter yourself,” she blustered, though she recalled too well her flush of outrage at the way the Senator’s daughter had advertised her claim on Rory with ostentatious little touches.
    “Forget Sylvia.” His tone was urgent. “Have lunch with me.”
    A pulse began to pound, low inside her. Despite assuring her father she wasn’t seeing Rory, she stretched the phone cord and closed her office door. Leaning against it, she imagined the two of them in a secluded restaurant booth.
    A light on her telephone blinked. The call came from her father’s office.
    “Come on, Mariah,” Rory said.
    “Lyle Thomas told me all about you and Sylvia,” she returned. “He’s been catching me up on who’s who in the city.”
    “Nobody dishes the dirt better than the D.A.’s own.”
    “It wasn’t dirt. He’s promised to show me around, introduce me to people.”
    “You’re going out with that guy?”
    She wasn’t, but if he wanted to two-time her with Sylvia, let him think she had other things going. “I’ll see whomever I please.”
    “How about seeing me?”
    She checked her office clock. “I have to be over at Grant Plaza in a little while,” she evaded.
    From her window, she could see the rising steel and concrete of the forty-story construction, already dominating the neighborhood north of the Moscone Convention Center. When it was complete, Grant Development would occupy the fortieth story penthouse.
    “The elevations are going to be beautiful.” Rory spoke with the appreciation of a fellow builder, but where did he get his information?
    “What do you know about Grant Plaza?”
    “For Christ’s sake, there was a big article in the
Chronicle
six months ago. Didn’t your father send you a copy?”
    She was silent, noting that Dad had apparently given up on calling her.
    “I guess I can’t blame you for being wary of me, but I told you before, I’m not involved in corporate spying.” He sounded sincere.
    She envisioned the little comma of shining hair that drooped over his forehead. The one that gave the polished man an air