Denali Dreams by Ronie Kendig, Kimberley Woodhouse Page B

a sixtyish woman.
Au natural
, at that. Jolie had inherited her mother’s fine bone structure and thin build, but she’d reflected her father’s quick mind, blond hair, and tall height.
    A gong resounded through the house.
    “Now, I wonder who that could be.”
    “It’s probably James and Aidan Sheppard, Mother.” Jolie motioned Baron to the leather seating that separated her father’s desk from the wall of books. Stepping onto the carpeted area, she drew in her courage. “They’re picking me up for the trip, remember?”
    Touching her fingertips to her forehead, her mother feigned light-headedness. “Oh, Jolie.” She placed a hand on her chest, her chin puckering. “I keep telling James I don’t want you on that trip. Please, darling, don’t go.”
    “I’ve already told you—”
    “Why on earth would you go there? After … What if you die like Gael?” Her eyes glossed, threatening her perfectly applied makeup. She cast a look to Baron then composed herself. “If you’ll excuse me.”
    Her quick steps warned Jolie of the panic chasing her mother through the doors, which Baron, trailing her mother, closed.
    Jolie eyed the doors as Baron returned to the hand-carved Persian rug and leather seating appointment. “Is everything okay?”
    “Please,” he said as he motioned to the sofa while he took the wingback chair. “I wanted to talk with you privately.” Tugging up his slacks, he perched on the edge of the leather seat. His gray eyes bore the weight of whatever was coming. Quite honestly, it made Jolie want to squirm. Instead, this was one of the times her mother’s insistence on “saying less” could be worked to an advantage, though Jolie had always struggled with that rule of Marceline Decoteau Etiquette Rules.
    Coiling her anticipation and anxiety in her hands, Jolie placed them in her lap.
    “Look, there’s no easy way to say this, and you know I don’t say things lightly.”
    Jolie laughed. “No, Daddy always lamented that you were as silent as a monk most of the time.” Her smile faded. “Unless it was important.”
    “It is.” He swallowed. “Jolie, I don’t believe your father’s death was accidental.”
    Heat splashed down her spine and numbed her mind. “But the reports …”
    “I know.” He motioned his hands in a placating manner. “It’s quite an accusation, but there are a number of things bothering me.” He scooted forward. “I’m glad you’re going on this trip because it will get you out of harm’s way while I sort through this….” He paused, meeting her eyes. “I’ve hired a private investigator.”
    Heart thumping a little faster, Jolie crossed her legs. “Do you think I’m in danger?”
    He dropped his gaze. “You’re the CEO of Decoteau Industries, and I won’t lie to you—that decision flew in the face of a lot of influential and powerful people.”
    “Including you.”
    He shrugged. “No, not really.” In his late forties, Baron had always taken things in stride. But being overlooked in favor of a midtwenties girl?
    How insane! “Baron, you were my father’s confidant. You and James knew everything. You both advised him in every single decision.”
    “Including the one that named you as CEO.” His genuine smile warded off a plethora of concerns. “Trust me, Jolie, I agreed with your father. You’re young, yes, but you’re fresh. You have a new perspective, and you have years of sitting under your father’s tutelage to guide you.”
    “Two.” She thrust her hands into her hair. “Two years, Baron! That’s all.”
    “Two, officially, but all your life unofficially.” A lengthy sigh eased a smile from his face. “Do you know what I did for Amaury?”
    “Advised him.”
    He snorted. “Well, yes, but I also handled all his data encryption and secured his files.” Alert, keen eyes peered at her, burrowing deep. “A side … benefit, is that I knew when to invest…. So, while I do not hold the fortune your father—and