Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I reach for her chin, tilting her face to mine. “Hey. You okay?”
Our eyes meet and when she nods, I see how this must be for her. Raised alone by her father, who, I can tell from the way she talks about him, wouldn’t dream of answering even the stupidest of her questions with “The fuck are you talking about?” Would never in his life gaslight her the way my mother just did.
But then, her eyes clear, she straightens, and puts on a brave smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll go find Blaire or Jake.” She sends her hand down my arm, squeezing my fingers. “Go.”
Without thinking about it, I bend, giving her a soft, brief kiss on the lips. Before she can react, I speak into her ear: “You’re pretty good at this, too.”
Her breath shakes on my neck. “At what?”
“All of it.”
Sixteen
LIAM
There he is,” Dad says by way of greeting. “My middle son, Liam, the future CEO of Weston Foods.”
My heart comes to a sudden, lurching stop, and I’m unsure how to respond in front of the senior editor of Forbes, Ellis Sikora. Throughout my life, Dad has said this to me a hundred times, but given that we haven’t spoken in five years—after the fight about my return to school rather than my return to the family company—any rational person would have assumed he’d have given up on me succeeding him at the top. It’s one thing to hope I’ll come back to Weston Foods; it’s another thing entirely to think I’d ever step into his corrupt shoes.
But of course, most people don’t know my father the way I do.
In the handful of seconds that follow, my brain cycles through a dozen different responses, trying to estimate the public fallout as well as my dad’s reaction to each one. A yes would be binding; a no would make the family gossip fodder and send the stock tanking, not to mention sending my father into a rage in private later. He’s daring me to choose which way I want to drag the razor blade across my throat.
What I’m not sure of is why he’s chosen to do it now.
So I play his game, sinking a hand into my pocket, adopting an easy posture. “I think it’s better for you to keep me on the outside,” I say, all corporate chitchat, cagey evasion. “I advise you whenever you ask me to, but you don’t have to put me on the payroll.”
Both men laugh, but Dad’s is forced, his eyes tight.
“He’s a professor at Stanford, no?” Ellis asks, and then sips his drink. “Specializing in corporate culture and ethics. Would be an interesting transition back to C-suite for the family business.”
“It’s been a great way to get diverse leadership experience,” my father agrees, as if the way I broke ties with the company and decided to pursue academia was his idea from the start. “He gets to dabble in his models of corporate harmony shit and learn the ropes of administration constipation, then come settle down in the family business and put it to good use when he’s ready.”
“I guess he’s always had a hand in the family business, though,” Ellis says slyly, eyes hawkishly on me. “Even as far back as when you were a teenager, I mean. Liam, the technology you built was objectively extraordinary. I know you’ve never commented on the PISA scandal, but—”
“And I’m definitely not going to at my sister’s wedding,” I say, cutting him off and forcing my voice to remain steady. Even the sound of the acronym still sends a chill down my spine, makes me want to sink a fist into my father’s jaw. “It’s great to meet you, Ellis, and I’m sure there will be plenty of time to talk business after this vacation, right?”
“Right.” Ellis lifts his glass to me.
I lift my gaze, searching for Anna. I find her standing near the bar, talking to Jamie. Her dress sparkles in the low light, rendering her a glowing goddess in a room full of mannequins.
Beside me, my father says my name in a way that makes me think Ellis has had to ask me something more than once.
I blink back to him, leaning in. “Sorry. What was that?”
“I said,” Ellis says with a smile, “I realize we aren’t going to touch on PISA tonight—”
“Or any night,” I correct, as much to Ellis as to my father. “Just so we’re clear. Even if we were at an event where it felt appropriate to speak on the matter, I wouldn’t.”
“Okay,” he says, not working to mask his disappointment. “I wish you felt differently, but I understand. I’d still love to hear any comments you might have about taking over the CEO role when your father retires.”
How about not a chance in fucking hell? I think, but Anna’s bright laugh rises out of the din, teasing at my attention. “A statement? Right now?” I look around us, gesturing. “Is this a board meeting? Dad, do we have a quorum?”