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Strawberries floated lazily in the drink, their vibrant red hue a shocking contrast to the bar’s dignified earth tones. I typically avoided sweet drinks; the harsh burn and subdued amber of scotch was much more to my taste. But like I said, I had a soft spot for this particular flavor.
Fine, but if you change your mind, I have strawberry-flavored condoms. Magnum-size, ribbed for your—
Apologies for interrupting, but I’d like to order another drink.
Gin and tonic. Strawberry flavored.
Reluctant amusement drifted through me at the memory of Isabella’s horrified expression. I’d interrupted her and her friend Vivian’s condom conversation at last year’s fall gala, and I still remembered the interaction in vivid detail.
I rememberedallour interactions in vivid detail, whether I wanted to or not. She’d touched down in my life like a tornado, gotten my drink wrong during her first shift at Valhalla, and hadn’t left my thoughts since.
It was aggravating.
“I haven’t seen you read him in person.” Dominic flicked his lighter on and off, drawing my attention back to him. He didn’t smoke, yet he carried that lighter around the way a more superstitious person would cling to a lucky charm. “But I imagine that’s what you do when you’re holed up in your library every night.”
A smile pushed through my turbulent mood. “Spend a lot of time imagining me in the library, do you?”
“Only to contemplate how sad your existence is.”
“Says the workaholic who spends most of his nights in his office.” It was a miracle his wife tolerated him as long as she had. Alessandra was a saint.
“It’s a nice office.” On. Off. A tiny flame burst into life only to die a quick death at his hand. “I’d be there right now if it weren’t for your call. What’s so urgent you demanded I rush here on a Monday, of all nights?”
I’d requested, not demanded, but I didn’t bother correcting him. Instead, I tucked my pen, paperback, and notebook in my coat pocket and cut straight to the point. “I got the call today.”
Dominic’s bored impatience fell away, revealing a spark of intrigue. “This early?”
“Yes. Five candidates, including myself. The vote is in four months.”
“You always knew it wouldn’t be a coronation.” Dominic tapped his lighter’s spark wheel. “But the vote is a formality. Of course you’ll win.”
I offered a noncommittal noise in response.
As the eldest child and presumptive heir to the Young Corporation, I’d lived with the expectation of becoming CEO all my life. But I was supposed to take over in five to ten years, not in four months.
A fresh wave of apprehension swept through my chest.
Leonora Young would never willingly cede power this early. She was only fifty-eight years old. Sharp, healthy, beloved by the board. Her life revolved around work and hounding me about marriage, yet it’d undeniably been her on the video call that afternoon, informing me and four other executives that we were in the running for the CEO position.
No warning, no details other than the date and time of the vote.
I ran a distracted hand over the gin and tonic glass, taking strange solace in its smooth curves.
“When’s the news going public?” Dominic asked.
“Tomorrow.” Which meant for the next four months, all eyes would be on me, waiting for me to fuck up. Which I never would. I had too much control for that.
Though there were technically five candidates, the position was mine to lose. Not only because I was a Young, but because I was the best. My record as president of the North America division spoke for itself. It had the highest profits, the fewest losses, and the best innovations, even if certain board members didn’t always agree with my decisions.
I wasn’t worried about the vote’s outcome, but its timing nagged at me, twisting what should’ve been a career highlight into a muddied pool of unease.
If Dominic noticed my muted enthusiasm, he didn’t show it. “The market’s going to have a field day.” I could practically see the calculations running through his head.
In the past, I would’ve called Dante first and sweated out my worries in the boxing ring, but ever since he got married, dragging him away from Vivian for an unscheduled match was harder than prying a bone away from a dog.
It was probably for the best. Dante would see right through my composed mask, whereas Dominic only cared about facts and numbers. If it didn’t move markets or expand his bank account, he didn’t give a shit.
I reached for my drink while he laid out his predictions. I’d just drained the last of the gin when a burst of rich, throaty laughter stole my attention.
