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“Mrs. Hampden, I’m not sure what my assistant has told you, but the Lexed Group does not have offices facing brick walls. Do I need to find another broker?”
Looking flustered and embarrassed, she pulls out her portfolio. What the fuck is this woman thinking? This is what happens when some geriatric has-been is still working when they should be retired and living in Boca. Pulling out my phone, I’m ready to blast the person who recommended her to me.
“Mr. Edwards, I apologize for the communication error. I do have one that I think will be more suited to your business.”
The other building is two blocks over. The building is tall with modern architecture which stands out amongst the other generic buildings. Inside, my eyes scan the floor space. It’s fully furnished, the reception area formal with black leather sofas and a large marble desk. I follow her around the floor before walking through the double doors to what would be my office. The view is amazing, the East River with the Brooklyn Bridge on the far left.
I call Kate right away, knowing office spaces like this in Manhattan are hard to come by.
“Kate, please have the lawyers draw up the contracts for this new office,” I command, rushing through this conversat
ion. “Human Resources can start recruiting for the jobs we discussed last week. I’ll forward you a list of everything else I want taken care of by Monday morning.”
I leave the building, finally relieved we have found a space that represents the Lexed brand.
It’s lunchtime now, and the streets are busy. People around me are piling into restaurants, others darting in and out of boutiques. I find the restaurant where my sister and mother are meeting me for a quick lunch. At least that’s what I anticipate but, of course, women can talk for days without taking a breath. Seriously, do they ever shut the fuck up?
My mother is the first to greet me, reaching up to place a kiss on my cheek, then rubbing her fingers across it to wipe off the lipstick she left behind. “Here’s my boy. Why haven’t you returned my calls, Lex? I know you’re busy, but not hearing from you weeks on end worries me.”
“C’mon, Mom. You know what it’s like.”
“No, I don’t, Lex. I understand you’re busy running an empire and all, but a quick call, text, or even an email wouldn’t kill you. Better yet, send me a friend request…”
Thank God, for once my sister’s timing is perfect. Practically running over to the table, she kisses my mother, then whacks the back of my head.
“What the fuck, Adriana?”
“Oh, hello, big brother of mine.” She laughs while taking a seat.
Adriana is seven years younger. My parents would often tell me that when I was six, I begged Santa to bring me a brother or sister. Unfortunately, Santa delivered a year later.
Some say she looks like me. I can’t see the resemblance apart from our eyes. She has light brown hair like mine, but today she’s blonde. I can’t keep up with her ever-changing hairstyles. Typical woman, of course.
“So, Elijah and I have set a date. It’s February 14th, the day we officially started dating.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you. Aren’t you, Lex?”
I look over at my mother, her face willing me to say something pleasant. What possible thing can I say about a fucking Valentine’s Day wedding? The holiday itself is a load of shit. Like we need a day to show someone we love them with candy hearts and giant bears which serve absolutely no purpose, and don’t get me started on weddings.
“Sounds bloody ace.”
“Bloody ace? Is that all you have to say?” Adriana asks, frustrated with my British slang.
“What would you like me to say? Tying yourself to someone will guarantee you a lifetime of happiness. Weddings are magical.”
“You’re such a jerk.”
“So I’ve been told.”
At this point, my mother places her hand over Adriana’s, trying to calm her down. I order a drink while I wait for them to change the subject, then take my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my emails until my mother scolds me for my behavior. Again.
“Alexander, this isn’t the man I raised you to be, nor the man I know and love. I know you have a tarnished view of marriage, but that doesn’t excuse your rude behavior toward your sister.”
Here we go again.
I grab some cash out of my pocket and throw it on the table. Standing, I walk away without a goodbye, knowing I haven’t acted the way I should have, but I don’t give a fuck anymore. People can get married as long as I’m not involved in any way, shape, or form. The word marriage itself hits a nerve with me. It ruins everything. It ruins people.
Back at my hotel, I bury myself in work until the night falls. This is what my life has become—working round the clock, not knowing when the day begins or the night sets in. I travel all over the world for business, not once taking a vacation. I isolate myself, losing contact with old friends. Relationships aren’t for me. I fuck when I need to let off steam, and that’s that. When a rare opportunity for peace presents itself, I sit with a bourbon in my hand. Those are the moments I dread the most—they bring my failures to the surface and allow me to think of the past.
