"Stay away from my board," she said sharply.
"I'm just trying to save you from yourself."
Grace bit her lip to keep from snapping back. She was sick and tired of him stirring up trouble, of meeting his censure with nothing other than calm detachment. Frustration hardened her voice.
"Thanks, but I don't need to be rescued by you."
An angry flush deepened the color in his face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. You've got an amazing sense of balance in this tightrope town. I'll have to remember that when our donors want to know why the single most important event of the year turned out to be nothing more than a bad dinner and an embarrassing exhibition of a painting no one wanted to buy."
She massaged a knot of tension at the base of her skull. " Lou, I can't keep fighting like this."
"We wouldn't have to if you'd just do what I say. But no." He threw his hands up theatrically. "You're still so jealous of my relationship with your father that you can't show me respect."
"I beg your pardon?" Grace was honestly surprised. She didn't like Lou as a person, but it had nothing to do with how close he'd been to her father.
"You always hated the way he appreciated me, mentored me."
She shook her head. "My father did enjoy grooming you, but I wasn't threatened by that. You were a hobby of his, Lou, never his surrogate son. Don't let your ego rewrite reality."
Lamont planted his arms on her father's desk and leaned toward her, full of anger. "You little—"
A hand clamped on his shoulder.
"You want to relax, big guy?" Smith was smiling grimly as he loomed over the other man.
"Get your hands off me!"
"As soon as you calm down."
Lamont glared at Smith and then pulled away roughly.
"You're a really great OD consultant, you know that? I come in to give her a heads up that her board is dissatisfied with her performance and you crawl all over me." Lamont snapped his suit back in place and smoothed his tie. "Don't tell me you went to school for this?"
Grace started shaking her head. "Lou, maybe you should leave."
"You're right about that. I've got a meeting with my staff in ten minutes to tell them they all need to come to the Gala this year, even the damn secretaries. Just so you know, it's to fill empty seats at the tables."
"No, I mean, really leave. The Foundation."
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Are you firing me?"
Grace rose from the heavy chair. She'd been afraid to let Lamont go, even though he was trouble, because she was concerned that he might be right. There was a part of her that questioned whether she knew what she was doing and she'd hoped that Lou would eventually come around and be a help.
Looking into his face, she knew it was time to give up.
"Yes, Lou, I am firing you. I don't want to, but it's obvious that we can't work together."
"You're going to be sorry if you let me go," he said with soft menace. "I've been nothing but loyal to this place and your father."
"I know you've approached several people for jobs."
"I have not."
"Yes, you have. Because Suzanna van der Lyden and Mimi Lauer told me so after they turned you down."
Lamont's mouth tightened as he twisted in his own lie.
"Lou, we're at an impasse. You're not happy working under me and I will not step down. I suggest that you let us buy out your contract. As long as you leave civilly, we'll make sure you get to review the press release and I'll give you a satisfactory reference."
His eyes narrowed, but she couldn't tell whether he was adding up the zeros in his separation package or measuring the distance across the desk so he could hit her.
He jabbed a finger through the air. "I promise this will come back to haunt you."
As soon as he left, she buzzed Kat. "Get security to escort Lou out of the building. Make sure they get his badge and his keys, okay?"
The last thing she needed was to have Lamont stealing the donor lists, assuming he hadn't already.
As she sat down in her chair, she was trying to figure out who she could get to head the Development Department. She'd have to start searching now, because filling a job like that could take months.
* * *
Sitting at the conference table, Smith was impatiently tapping a pen against the pad of paper he'd been using.
Christ, why the hell hadn't Tiny gotten back to him, yet?
He picked up his phone and tried again. When he actually heard the man's voice, he said, "Where the hell have you been?"
The phone connection was fuzzing in and out and Tiny sounded like he was underwater. "I'm trying to get the hell out of South America. Flat Top has finally taken over for me down here and I tried to call you three times this morning. I couldn't get through."