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“What?” I spat.
“Calm down and listen. Your uncle called our lawyers and said the situation could go either way, but the Kingsley’s look to have the upper hand. Again, this is probably your father’s fault. Between the three of you, I’m shocked our family made the list of high-ranking billionaires for ten straight years in a row.”
I combed my hands down my face and growled into my palms. “So, what the fuck does this have to do with me?”
She took another sip of her tea and cleared her throat, “Your uncle is up against a wall. Thomas Kingsley gave him two options. Either they draw up the lawyers and battle it out, or your uncle sells him the land in—”
“Fuck, sell it. No need to fly all the way to Stonebridge to tell me that.” I interrupted.
“Well, there is one caveat.”
I could feel my stomach twirling, and a wave of nausea was beginning to sweep over me. My mother enjoyed putting the men in her family in compromising situations for the sake of money. She did it to my father numerous times. Whoring him out for bonuses and shares. My father wasn’t innocent, but he was an honest man who worked hard to build his empire. As for my mother, she sought out the shortcuts and happily had my father sign his name on the dotted line for a deal, even if it meant losing a part of his morality.
“No,” I deadpanned. I refused to be part of whatever nonsense situation she had my uncle cooking up.
“If you don’t, then your uncle will go to court, and we’ll lose, and the Kingsley’s will get more than thirty percent of our income for every plot of land they plop one of their fancy hotels down on. Is that what you want?”
My hands squeezed into a fist as my head tilted up to the ceiling.
“Thomas Kingsley has a daughter who’s about your age. He agreed to let bygones be bygones if you were to court her during their fourth-quarter annual dinner reception in New York.”
“Why me? I can’t leave Remy. Iwon’tleave Remy.”
She inhaled and crossed one leg over the other as she leaned back into the couch. “Because your brother is deceased, and your uncle is too old and too bald. Thomas Kingsley said it would look good if his very single daughter had a powerful name on her arm. It will impress the governor, who will also be there. If you refuse, then your uncle will sell.
“He can’t sell without me. He needs three signatures, and I know bloody well Ian won’t sign that shit.”
“He only needs two signatures, his and mine. Remember when I said you never read the fine print?”
Her bony hand reached over to grab another scone. It took everything inside of her to hide the sinister smile that was dying to break out from behind the wall of botox on her face.
“But I’m the head of our company, and I make one-hundred percent of all the decisions.” I deadpanned.
“Except for this one. I pushed your father to have the will changed on your twenty-eighth birthday to prevent you from selling the business if you were to run it to the ground.”
She continued to sip her tea as if the words flowing off her tongue meant nothing. When I turned thirty, I took over the business, but my uncle had always kept a watchful eye. We’ve always met our monthly and yearly profit goals, exceeding them most of the time. I felt betrayed.
If I had known that I didn’t have complete control over the business, I would have declined to run it, just like my brother declined when our father chose him to take it over, not me initially. My father always trusted my brother. He was a straight-A student and a model son. Everyone was sure he was going to take the reins.
While my brother was off making my father proud, I spent my early twenties sticking my dick in any piece of wet heat that moved in a dimly lit bathroom stall or vomiting on a nearby sidewalk.
Then my brother had a change of heart. He got pissed on his ass and hooked on some drugs, which horrified our father. His model son was gone, and he traded in a life of stress for drugs and rehab and eventually death. My brother’s death scared my father more than anything because it meant he was stuck with me, the fuck up.
He salvaged what he could from the dire situation and paid a pretty penny to send my foreign bum to Harvard for business. I refused to go, but then he hit me where it hurt. I either had to go to Harvard and take over the business or lose my inheritance. He knew how badly I wanted to get out from under him, and I thought fulfilling his request gave me a one-way ticket out of this shit show life, but I was wrong.
My mother stood, smoothed out her suit jacket, and came toe to toe with me. “You are going to accompany that woman to the dinner reception, which is tonight. You will be on your best behavior and make the Kingsley’s and the governor of New York believe the woman on your arm is your newfound catch and that everything is just peachy.” Her eyes slid to my forehead; I was sure she could see the veins popping out of the side of my temples.
“You’re mad. I just can’t up and leave. I have a seven-month-old pregnant woman that I need to take care of.” I snarled.
“I’ll take care of her, don’t worry. Pack a bag; you have a dinner reception to attend in less than six hours.”
The thought of leaving Remy with my mother sent goosebumps down my spine. I knew there was nothing she could say or do to turn Remy against me, but I still didn’t want to give her the key to fucking try.
“You can’t tell Remy about this. Do you understand?” I demanded.
Her lips separated and then closed. She swallowed and brushed her silver bangs back with her fingers.
“I wouldn’t do anything to disrupt your already messy life. Now get ready. The jet departs at 4 PM.”
