A Billionaire's Redemption - By Cindy Dees Page 0,4
matter what your family thinks of me, I am sorry your father was murdered. Even he didn’t deserve an end like that.”
She pursed her lips. “Even he? Mr. Dawson, are you bent on offending me?”
He exhaled hard and shoved a hand through his hair, standing it up in a sexy mess all over his head. An urge to reach out and smooth it crossed her palm. She dismissed the impulse with dismay.
He swore under his breath. “I’m going about this all wrong. Please let me start over.”
She settled deeper into the embrace of the leather chair, waiting to see where Gabe was taking this. She kind of enjoyed watching him squirm. She’d had to spend most of the past decade listening to her father rant about how this man had stolen Merris Oil’s future, and done his best to run her family into the ground. And while her father had been a hothead, prone to making generalizations, he also got things right, sometimes.
“Willa—Miss Merris. I truly am sorry your father has passed away. No matter what our disagreements might have been, I did not wish the man ill personally.”
She blinked, studying him anew. His sincerity surprised her. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“I do have another reason for coming to see you today beyond expressing my sympathy for your loss.”
“Indeed?” Curiosity stirred in the midst of her caution. What on earth could he want here? She flashed back for a second to her teen years when she’d nightly dreamed of him sweeping her into his arms and eloping with her. The absurdity of the notion now almost made her smile. Gabe Dawson was a well-known playboy and self-avowed bachelor. He’d been divorced for many years, in fact. Plenty of time had passed for him to find a wife if he was planning on having another one. Not the marrying kind, obviously. Just as well. He’d probably be a completely insufferable control freak in a relationship.
She tuned back in to what he was saying so earnestly. “...tried to speak to your father about a sensitive business matter a few weeks ago, but that conversation...didn’t go well. Unfortunately, the underlying issue remains unresolved.”
A snort escaped her. The way she heard it, the two men had engaged in a violent shouting match that ended with her father throwing a punch at Gabe in the middle of the prestigious and private Petroleum Club in Dallas. What on earth could have provoked her father so horribly? John Merris had been a highly intelligent man, and he knew darn good and well not to make such a scene in the middle of a tough re-election campaign.
Gabe continued doggedly, “As you may recall, I started life as an oil geologist. And as such, I have more than a working knowledge of assessing oil fields.”
Her brows knit in a frown. Where was he going with this? Assessing oil fields? “Mr. Dawson, I have nothing to do with the day-to-day operation of Merris Oil. Perhaps you should be having this conversation with Larry Shore. I believe he’s going to take over as temporary CEO in my father’s place. Or you could speak with the Ward family. They hold a significant minority share in my father’s company.”
“Please. Hear me out.”
She nodded her somewhat confused assent and he continued. “I happen to own the mineral rights to a parcel of land next to Merris Oil’s Vacarro Field.”
Even she knew what the Vacarro Field was. It was Merris Oil’s cash cow—a stretch of oil field about an hour’s drive west of Vengeance that churned out millions of barrels of oil each year and was the main source of her family’s income.
“Dawson Exploration just completed a survey of the Vacarro II parcel, and it so happens that the seismic data from my land also paints a fairly complete picture of your father’s field.”
“And?”
“And I took a look at it,” he announced heavily.
She frowned. Okay. Seismic data wasn’t classified or secret. It wasn’t illegal to survey anywhere if a person felt like paying to look at mineral rights they didn’t own. When Gabe didn’t continue, she said, “I fail to see why you felt obliged to share this with me.”
His frown deepened. “I gather, then, that your father didn’t speak with you about the state of the Vaccaro Field before his passing?”
“What about it?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them again and pointed their pained green depths at her. “The field’s played out. In another year at most, Merris Oil’s Vacarro wells are going to run