Read Online The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings Book 2) by J. R. Ward - Free Book Online Page A

was to be thirty-eight years old and at the helm of a global corporation upon which her family’s fortunes rested—and also stare down the barrel of her father’s death.
    Brushing away a tear, she looked at the wetness on her fingertip and told herself that there would be no more leaking after she left the house. As soon as she got to headquarters, everyone was going to measure her to see what kind of leader they had. And yes, there would be snakes coming out of the woodwork to undermine her and people who didn’t take her seriously because she was a woman and she was family, and her own brother was going to be angry.
    Justas importantly, she couldn’t show any weakness to her father after this, either. If she did, he was going to worry whether he’d done the right thing and possibly even second-guess himself—and stress did not help people with his condition.
    “I’m not going to let you down,” she said as she met him right in the eye.
    The relief that suffused that handsome face was immediate and made her tear up again. But he was right; she no longer had the luxury of emotion.
    Love was for family.
    It was not for business.
    Getting to her feet, she went around and gave him a quick hug, and when she straightened, she made sure her shoulders were back.
    “I expect to continue to use you as a resource,” she announced. And it was funny to hear that tone in her voice: It was not a request, and it was not something she said to her father. It was from one CEO to his or her predecessor.
    “Always,” he murmured as he inclined his head. “It would be an honor.”
    She nodded and turned away before cracks in her façade showed. She was halfway to the door when he said, “Your mother is smiling right now.”
    Sutton stopped and nearly wept. Oh, her mother. A firebrand for women’s rights back when that hadn’t been permitted in the South, in their kind of family.
    Oh, she would have loved this, it was true. It was everything she had fought for and demanded and stomped about.
    “It’s not why I picked you over your brother, though,” he added.
    “I know.” They all knew why Winn wasn’t a real candidate. “I’m conferencing you in during Finance meetings even though officially you have no role. I expect you to contribute as you would have done.”
    Again, not a request.
    “Of course.”
    “You will continue to serve on the board as Trustee Emeritus. I will nominateyou myself as my first official duty at the next board meeting. And you will be conferenced in during Executive Committee and all Trustee meetings until you are no longer able to breathe.”
    She said all of this while staring into the foyer.
    The chuckle her father let out held so much fatherly pride and businessman-to-businesswoman respect she started blinking hard again.
    “As you wish.”
    “I shall be home tonight at seven for dinner. We will eat in your room.”
    Usually by then he was back in bed, his will exhausted from dealing with his body’s rebellion.
    “And I shall look forward to it.”
    Sutton made it all the way to the study’s door before pausing and looking back. Reynolds seemed so small behind that desk, even though the dimensions of neither the man’s form nor the furniture had changed. “I love you.”
    “And I love you almost as much as I loved your mother.”
    Sutton smiled at that. And then she was on her way, going over to the console table by the front door and picking up her briefcase, before heading out into the warm May morning.
    Her legs were shaking as she walked to the Bentley Mulsanne alone. She had expected her father to be ahead of her, the subtle
whrrrrr
of his motorized wheelchair something she resolutely ignored.
    “Good morning, Miss Smythe.”
    The uniformed driver, Don, had been her father’s chauffeur for two decades. And as he opened the rear door, he couldn’t quite manage to meet her in the eye—although not out of dislike or mistrust.
    He had been told, of course.
    She squeezed his arm.