The Rejection

*Sandra*

I’d expected many different reactions to my proposal. Anger, insult, incredulity. But I hadn’t expected laughter.

Blake Harrington of Harrington Corporation let out a long, loud laugh.

“You… you can’t be serious,” he gasped between bouts.

I knew I wasn’t much to look at, but his reaction was insulting. “I’m dead serious,” I replied flatly, a bit proud of my private joke. I was dead. And I was serious.

“Oh… oh wow. Oh, I needed this tonight. Thank you,” Blake laughed, putting a hand on my shoulder.

Right over my port scar.

I flinched, since it was still raw.

Blake frowned and took his hand away. He searched my eyes. “You are actually serious.”

“Yes. I believe a marriage of six months will be sufficient for a transfer of assets without government interference,” I said primly.

“Just six months.” Blake’s lips twitched. He was trying not to laugh again.

At least he hadn’t walked off and was taking me somewhat seriously now. “Yes, just six months.”

“And after six months, you what, walk away with nothing? Or do you expect me to buy you out?” Blake asked.

“I do not want or need anything from you, Mr. Harrington-” I began.

“Blake.”

“... Blake. I only need the company to survive. In order for that to happen, yes, it needs an infusion of capital. And…” This was the most humiliating part. “And a figurehead that doesn’t look like a sixteen-year-old.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “You’re eighteen, I suppose?”

“Twenty-three,” I said quietly.

“T-Twenty–” Blake’s gaze raked over me. “Ye Gods, you look like a thirteen-year-old with very permissive parents.”

I shrugged. It hurt. “I’m offering these terms in good faith. My only condition is that you keep on the workers we have after.”

“After the divorce,” Blake nodded. “So you’ve said. “Do you have some particular attachment to them?”

I blinked at Blake. “Of course. They’re my workers.”

“You know them personally?” Blake asked, incredulous.

I squared my shoulders. “Yes. And I’m sorry for you that you don’t know yours. My father brought me to the floors of several of his factories. They work for me. They’re family, and I owe them a good life, since they gave my family a good life.”

Blake just stared at me.

This was a mistake. If he lacked basic compassion, there was no way I was going to let him lead my company. “Nevermind. Let’s just call this a misunderstanding.” I turned on my very high heel and started away.

Blake grabbed my arm, almost toppling me. He caught me in surprisingly strong arms. Broad-chested, handsome. He’d probably been on a rowing team or something at a fancy college.

“Woah, there. Where are you going? I haven’t even given you an answer yet,” Blake said, holding me tightly and grinning.

I scowled at him. “Your incredulity is answer enough. I have to say I’m disappointed. You were at the top of my list. I guess I now have to work my way down.”

Blake frowned. I guessed he wasn’t used to people saying they were disappointed in him. He was probably the perfect, golden child and apple of his mother’s eye.

Dahlia Harrington, the great philanthropist herself, was looking out at us on the balcony right now, her eyes narrowed.

“I need to go. I don’t have any more time to waste on you. I’m sorry,” I said, struggling to free myself. I was weak from my ineffective chemo, so, there was really no getting away.

“You hound my office for months, and this is it? Really?” Blake scoffed. “Just because I’m not as connected with the little people as you seem to be?”

I glared up at him. “The ‘little people’ are who make your business successful. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Blake, let the young lady go,” a cold voice came from behind me.

I was immediately released and was just swaying to get my balance when a kind hand reached out to steady me.

Dahlia Harrington smiled beatifically at me. “There now. What seems to be the trouble?”

“Well, this… intriguing… young woman just proposed to me. Then rejected me in the same breath,” Blake snorted.

Dahlia glanced at my shoulder, where my port scar was under the dress, then back into my eyes. “Sandra. Sandra Kingsley.”

“Yes,” I replied cautiously.

“I knew your mother. She was the most kind and compassionate creature who ever lived,” Dahlia said.

I blinked away tears. Her loss still hurt, especially this close to my father’s passing. “Thank you. I thought so, too.”

“Your father thought the world of her,” Dahlia continued. She shot a glare at Blake, who actually took a startled step back. “I can’t believe it took you the span of a whole breath to deem him unworthy of your time.”

“Mother!” Blake gaped.

“Hush. I always knew the second you met a truly worthy woman you’d find some way to screw it up. I should have put money on it. Your father said it would take at least three months to push her away. I would have won at three minutes,” Dahlia sniffed. She placed a hand on my arm. “Let’s take a turn around the room, as they say. You can tell me what’s brought you all this way.”

I bit my lip. “I… actually don’t have a lot of time…”

“Walk with me,” Dahlia insisted.

I gave in and began walking with her around the perimeter of the ballroom, leaving a stunned Blake in our wake.

“How long do you have, Sandra?” Dahlia asked quietly.

After the surprise wore off, I decided I liked her. Direct. To the point. “About six months,” I answered. “Treatments aren’t working anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” Dahlia’s regret was sincere, and I had to swallow against a lump in my throat.

“Yes, well, I’ve made peace with it,” I responded. “I was… just here…”

“To propose to my son,” Dahlia said.

I sighed. “Yes. Stupid of me. But if his assistant hadn’t kept deflecting me, I wouldn’t have come at all. One conversation would have been sufficient to know it would be a waste of my time.”

“Kingsley was always very close to his workers. I was sorry to hear of his passing,” Dahlia replied. “I suppose that’s why you’re here – to secure the futures of your workers?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I stated. “I have no heirs and no reason to take Kingsley Manufacturing to the grave with me. I thought being able to get around tax penalties and regulatory commissions might be enticement enough…”

“It is. And you did not come here in vain. Your terms are simply that the workers not be laid off?” Dahlia asked.

I frowned slightly at her. “Yes, but, how did you know I was going to the Baron family next?”

“I didn’t. Forget the Barons,” Dahlia said, shaking her head emphatically. “Blake will marry you. And I will personally ensure that your workers are always taken care of.”

I stopped dead in shock. “W-What? Really?!”

“Absolutely. It’s a sound business decision, regardless of Kingsley’s debts. The infrastructure is solid, and your staff works hard.” Dahlia looked up at me sadly. “I also understand about wanting to leave a legacy.”

“Please…” I said with a swallow. “Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t. I admire you.” Dahlia patted my arm. “Now, you go and get some rest. I’m going to tell my son the good news. I’m sure he has your number.”

I took a deep breath. “Don’t tell him I’m dying.”

Dahlia snorted. “He’d have to be worthy of that information first. Don’t worry. I will handle everything. You go back to your room.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I was staying across town, but I just smiled instead. “Thank you, Mrs. Harrington.”

“Dahlia. You’re going to be my daughter, after all.” Dahlia patted my arm. “Go on now.”

I left the ballroom with more of a spring in my step. Blake Harrington might be a jerk, but his mother was more than I could ever have hoped for.

***

*Blake*

I paced the balcony, trying to shake Sandra Kingsley out of my mind. She wasn’t my type at all. Black hair, skinny… beautiful, of course, but just not my type. I preferred the standard blonde, buxom, and bubble-headed.

Sandra was sharp, focused. Smart. Her skin was soft and pale, her lips a contrasting deep rose. With the black cascading hair, she could have been Snow White.

And those eyes…

Her nature was far from demure, however. In fact, I was still feeling the sting of her rejection. Who was she to reject me? Her company was drowning in debt, and she was throwing herself at men just to get it solvent.

Throwing herself at men.

My grip tightened on the stem of my champagne flute. Something in me, something primal, did not like the idea of that startling, fey creature marrying some tubby fifty-six-year-old oil baron just to save her workers.

She’d deemed me unworthy. Me.

I was the goddamn catch of the century!

“Ahem.” My mother brought me out of my thoughts.

“What?” I asked, a bit more snappish than I’d intended. Or maybe not. She’d agreed with Sandra Kingsley that I was unworthy, after all.

“Despite your screw up,” my mother began, . “I have managed to secure the deal you were so thoughtlessly going to toss aside.”She never sugar-coated, nor did she beat around the bush.

Secure the…? “What? With Sandra?” I asked, confused.

“Yes. You will be married next week. Congratulations.” My mother turned to leave as though that was all there was to it.

“Wait, you… you what?!” I stuttered. “What?!”

My mother looked at me. “You heard me. We’ll work out the details later. I have to inform your father and get a wedding planner. Oh, and you have my permission to leave now. I’m sure that’s what you’ve been waiting to hear all night.”

“Mother, you can’t just–!” I protested.

“I just did. I’m sure your father will agree with me. Six months is hardly a sacrifice for what she’s offering.” My mother lifted her stubborn chin, and I knew I was going to be the loser in this conversation. “Suck it up.”

“I… but… what… you don’t believe in divorce!” I accused. “You’ve said it every time I tried to bring…”

“One of your bimbos home? Yes. Quite. But this is a woman of quality, and I’m rather hoping you’ll learn what you have and try to hang onto it before it’s too late,” my mother said.

There was something in her eyes, something flinty yet… sad. “Mother?” I touched her arm.

My mother shook her head. “Go home,” she said. “And this time, call Sandra. I’m sure your assistant has her number.”

“But…”

I was left with my mouth hanging open as my mother simply walked away. I shook my head in disbelief.

What the hell was going on?!