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The security guard nods his head as I approach, appearing unsurprised by my appearance.
I swipe my badge and head for the elevators, scanning it again before I press the button for the executive floor. My head pounds for multiple reasons, as it ascends toward the top of the building.
Once the elevator doors open, I head toward my father’s office, passing the familiar rows of empty, dark offices.
Crew is already waiting outside. I take a moment to appreciate the show of solidarity, nodding to him as I walk past and open the door to enter the largest office on this floor.
My father is seated behind his massive desk, scowling like he’s the one being inconvenienced by this last minute, early morning meeting thatherequested. The sun rises behind him, casting diluted light over the leather furnishings that match every office on this floor. His glower deepens when he catches sight of my outfit. Both my father and Crew are in suits. I’m wearing a sweatshirt and joggers.
“What the hell are you wearing, Oliver?”
“Clothes.”
“You expect anyone to take you seriously when you dress like you’ve just left the gym?”
“Did you call me here to lecture me on what I wear into the office on a Sunday, Dad?”
My father’s expression barely reacts, but I can tell he’s taken off guard by my tone. I’ve spent years as his yes man, never challenging a single decision. I’m done.
“No. I want you to explain to me what the fuck happened last night. We lost Zantech, and I want to know why. How?”
“You’re overreacting, Dad,” Crew says from his spot in the corner. His tone is bored but his posture is tense.
As much as I appreciate his support, I wish he’d keep his mouth shut. There’s nothing our father likes less than us presenting a united front.
Predictably, he disagrees with Crew’s assessment of the situation. Red creeps up his neck beneath the collar of his blue button down. “Overreacting?You know exactly what that contract was worth, Crew. Gone, now. Covington won’t let that deal slip away.”
“Somehow, I think we’ll manage to keep the lights on without it,” Crew drawls.
“This is no joking matter, Crew. If your brother hadn’t just managed to fuck up a hundred-million-dollar contract, I’d be tempted to reconsider you as my successor.”
My molars grind as I forcibly tamp down any reaction.
Arthur Kensington is a master at emotional manipulation.
If I’d left the reception last night and locked down this deal, I’d have been shocked to receive agood job, much less a promotion.
But losing it? Of course, Kensington Consolidated is on the brink of financial ruin and I’m inept.
Only my mistakes are acknowledged.
“They called you?” I ask.
My father’s sharp gaze shifts back to me. My phone begins buzzing in my pocket, but I ignore it.
“Emailed. They only talk on the phone with companies they do business with, apparently.”
“I spoke to them on the phone yesterday morning, and he mentioned nothing about a later conversation. Or a pending decision. They’ve had weeks to agree to terms. And he suddenly decides to commit immediately, or he’ll go elsewhere?”
“Your job was to get him to sign, Oliver! Whenever he decided to! A fucking intern could have handled it.”
“Maybe you should have assigned one, then, instead of expecting me to handle the jobs of three employees.”
My father’s stare grows harder. Colder. I feel like a kid again, kicking myself for not doing better. For forgetting a chore or getting one B instead of straight A’s.
But I’m an adult now, who realizes my father’s standards are impossible to meet. That I need to stop trying to before I go insane.
“Offer is off the table, Oliver. You won’t be the next CEO of Kensington Consolidated. You’re obviously not willing to do what it takes.”
