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“Isn’t that what the Grayson Foundation is for?” Ten percent of our net income goes to various charities. That’s one reason the Grayson Group will never go public on the stock market. Selling an interest in the company means we would have to answer to others. Gramps always says he’s not in the habit of making other rich people richer. He’d rather use his money to help the average person.
And I agree. Wholeheartedly.
“Yes, yes,” Gramps says, pushing his aim forward. “As the permanentCEO, instead of the acting one, you can increase the margin. But you’ll never get that chance if you refuse me.”
I can’t help my look of astonishment. Gramps hasfinallyhanded over the reins to me. Thomas won’t be pleased about that, but fuck him.
With that information, I’ve pretty much decided to marry this Tiffany, but I can’t make it look too easy. If I do, Gramps won’t be able to enjoy his victory as much. “How do I even know this woman... this Tiffany, wants children? How do I even know she wants to marry me?”
“She’s already agreed. Most of her friends are engaged or tying the knot and the poor woman feels left out. She and her mother will take care of all the details. All you have to do is provide the ring and show up for the wedding.”
“Did you tell her about my childhood?” That’s another reason why I’ve never been in a conventional relationship. Explaining why I am the way I am isn’t something I’m ready to tackle.
“I may have said a few words on it.”
My work with the foundation helps me distance myself from the legacy of my father—except for the anger I feel towards him. Counseling has given me tools to combat it when I’m out in public, but in my private life...
I doubt I’ll get close enough to this woman for it to be a factor.
I shrug, giving both Gramps an answer as well as my own musings.
“Why didn’t you ask Thomas?”
Gramps lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “Have you forgotten what happened between Thomas and his parents as soon as he received his inheritance? He came straight to New York to work for me, the enemy. My baby brother had a conniption fit down there in Florida.” Gramps lets out a dark chuckle. “Heard his curses all the way up here. If I’d asked your cousin to tie himself down to someone, he wouldn’t walk away, he wouldrunaway. No, I like Thomas working for me instead of the competition, thank you very much.”
“What about me?” I ask, milking my fake indignation for all that it’s worth. “I have my own life, and I—“
“You’ll be twenty-nine in October,” Gramps says, cutting me off. “I married at twenty and had your father on the way at twenty-two. I want to bounce grandchildren on my knee before I start to dribble soup down my chin.”
It’s my turn to scoff. Kids? Me?Never thought of it before. I guess I’ll have to now. “Will there be a prenup?”
“Of course,” Gramps says, looking affronted that I would even ask. “She’s on board with that. At your word, I’ll start the ball rolling. You can sign the document before you go to Austin.”
I glance at the Piaget watch on my wrist, a graduation present from Gramps. It’s almost eight years old, and Lord knows I can afford to buy a newer, more modern model, but this timepiece is more than an antiquated hunk of metal on my wrist. It represents hard work, achievement, and... love.
Yeah, love. Something I’ve not had much of in my life.
That’s why I’ll do anything to keep what I’ve got.
Not So Prim and Proper
Royce
IentertheBayviewat 1 PM sharp. I’m always on time. I’ve canceled meetings, dumped dates, and turned down interviews for people who don’t show up on the dot.
The daytime host of the Bayview, Roman, is at his podium. He gives me a warm smile. “Welcome back, Mr. Grayson, your party is waiting for you at your usual table.”
“Thank you, Roman.” I slip him a fifty when we shake hands.
A cliché, I know. Gramps and I do a lot of business at the Bayview and not once have our comings and goings leaked to the tabloids. Then again, Gramps has never been in a magazine, a newscast or corporate video.
He’s one of those faceless billionaires who runs a company that employs over two hundred thousand people. If he passed anyone on the street who wasn’t a part of his inner circle, he wouldn’t get recognized.
Born in the digital age, I prefer to put a face to the Grayson Group. When I took over the CEO position eighteen months ago, I decided there would be no shame in my game using my looks and maybe a little flirting to get those philanthropic women and men to write a few extra zeros on their checks.
I follow Roman as he leads me to the more private area of the restaurant. I nod at a few people I know and lift my hand in a wave to others.
At the table, Roman blocks the view of the woman I’m supposed to marry. As he turns to show me to my seat, I catch my first glimpse of my future wife.
