Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
It’s his domain, his den, his realm of complete authority. And while he means well, without the balance my mother provides, I always feel as though I’m being called to the principal’s office after sending my underwear up the flagpole. Not that I did that. That was my brother Cole. But we all learned from that disaster exactly how fast the vein in Dad’s forehead can pump.
I tilt my head left and right, popping my neck, and prepare to enter his inner sanctum. From her desk, his secretary smiles blandly. “He’s waiting for you.”
“Scale of one to ten?”
“Mm, three. You’re good to go.”
I appreciate her comment and give her a small smile to let her know. The assessment lets me know that I’m not walking into an ambush.
I open the door and realize I asked the wrong question, or not the follow-up I should’ve . . . is he alone?
My dad is sitting behind his desk, which is one of those old-school, oversized, dark walnut numbers, in a tufted, dark green leather chair. He’s the epitome of a powerful CEO, practically ready for a Forbes photographer at any moment, and exactly what I expected. However, sitting across from him is my brother, Cameron, whose eyes are stone-hard as they meet mine.
Damn, what’s his issue? You’d think he’d be a little grateful that I took care of Grace on the fly when he was out doing God knows what. I’ll never resent Grace for needing me anytime or for anything, but Cameron? Another issue altogether. We give each other shit freely and easily, competing against each other while simultaneously being willing to kill for one another.
Shutting the door behind me, I take my time striding to the other chair in front of the desk, reading their faces. “Hey, Dad, Cameron.”
“Have a seat.” Dad holds out a hand like I don’t know where I’m supposed to sit, like we haven’t had a hundred meetings with the three of us in this triangle of a power dynamic.
Appearances are key, so I lean back in the chair, resting an ankle on the opposite knee. Outwardly, I’m unconcerned, chill as a Choco Taco in a January blizzard. “What’s up?”
Dad’s eyes flick to Cameron and then back to me. They’ve been talking about me, that much is clear.
“Dad wants us to work together on my venture capital deal,” Cameron says flatly, obviously not on board with that plan in the slightest.
“The restaurant one?” Now I’m the one looking between my brother and dad. “Why?”
This is where Dad steps in. “It’s a big investment that needs close monitoring. I thought having two Harringtons involved would make that more manageable.”
I lean over to Cameron, talking as though Dad can’t hear us. It’s a trick we’ve done since we were kids that lets us say things out loud that we would never say directly to Dad. “Does he think you can’t handle it? Your plan was spot-on.”
Cameron leans in too, the trademark Harrington grin on his face. “You read my plan?”
I lift a wry brow in answer. He knows I obsessively scoured the damn thing after the meeting. He would’ve done the same thing if I dropped a surprise investment opportunity with zero notice. Actually, maybe I should do that with Elena’s deal? That’d show them I can bring value to the table.
His grin grows with my lack of admission.
“I’m good, though I’d never turn down some help. But I think this one is about you, man.” He jerks his head toward Dad.
Me? Why?
Choosing the direct route instead, I ask Dad, “What’s the deal? It sounds like Cameron’s got the restaurant under control.”
Dad’s shrug is noncommittal. “Like I said, it’s a big job, and you don’t have anything specific on your plate right now, so I thought you could help out. You always push each other to do better.”
This is one of the ways Cameron and I started our perpetual competition with one another. As the second oldest, I wanted to do everything my big brother did when we were kids, and as the oldest, he wanted me to leave him alone. Our parents cultivated our relationship as brothers by encouraging us to play together, whether in the yard or on a baseball diamond, and later, to play against each other in school, in business, and in life. The result is a rivalry built on shared experiences and a love that we show by giving each other massive amounts of shit whenever possible.
“Putting one and one together, I take it you think I need Cameron to push me right now?” I summarize bluntly. Because I don’t have time for games and double-speak right now. I’m too busy with my notes and follow-up from dinner at Elena’s.
Not that Dad knows that.
Dad chuckles. “You don’t have to make it sound like a bad thing.”