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They’re looking through Aurora’s mother’s designs on the table, along with Skye’s portfolio.
As I watch them I feel no different to the friend who stabbed Julius Caesar in the heart or Judas with his betraying kiss.
This meeting is to touch base with the developments of Sunset Cove, which both Vladimir and my grandfather are happy about.
It’s been two weeks since I agreed to using Aurora’s mother’s designs, and not a day has gone by where I didn’t feel like I’d thrown myself into an open grave.
I’ve been dreading this meeting since I found out about it the other day. I knew it would happen at some point. I just didn’t know when.
Now I’m sitting here trying to look composed, but inside, I’m a mess of conflict.
I’m essentially discussing my future with two of the most powerful men on the planet and I’m in a position where I feel like I truly belong.
Both of which prove my father wrong. I’m at a level where my father can’t touch me, and I have the added bonus that he never attained this level of accomplishment when he was my age.
Neither will Bastian. I worked for this through blood and sweat, but Bastian will always be handed things on a silver platter. That type of hand out works until it doesn’t. That’s when people begin to see you for who you are and what you can do.
It’s the moment that defines you.
Getting control of Park Avenue is everything I could ever dream of and it seals my place in the Grayson line. More than anything, I know I’ve made my mother proud and everything I do and have done will provide some redemption from the horrible past we all had with my father.
But then, there’s Aurora.
There’s the knowledge that everything I do next will hurt her, and I know I’ve made things so much worse by agreeing to use her mother’s designs.
I couldn’t tell her no, though.
That last time she asked, I couldn’t say no. Saying that word didn’t come as easy as it had on the night of my grandparents’ party.
After feeling that strong, magical connection between us, and hearing her speak so passionately about her mother’s dreams and her own past, there was no way I could have denied her.
There are still things from my past that I haven’t spoken about. Like everything to do with Giselle, so I understand why Aurora has never spoken to me about her past the way her father had, or talked about the way she watched her mother die. Both are dark elements that could taint your soul forever, and you become just like me. But I love that she seems to choose to remember the good things and the dreams people hold on to.
That’s why I said yes. I agreed knowing the consequences could and most likely will fuck me over. But I’m hoping that maybe, justmaybe, things might work out.
Maybe having her mother’s designs put to use will be enough for Aurora, and perhaps seeing them come to life might make her be okay with the sale of Sunset Cove in a few months.
As for everything else—the darker parts of my plan and all my dirty work to blackmail her father and essentially steal her inheritance—maybe those can stay buried with Pandora’s box in Hell.
"These are absolutely magnificent," Vladimir says in a thick Russian accent, with a continuous nod of his head. His dark, shoulder-length hair brushes over his shoulders as he looks from me to my grandfather and his smile widens.
From what I know of this man, he rarely ever smiles. A smile isn’t something you’d expect to see on his face. His pit bull build and abrasive exterior make him look more like an old mafia don who has a permanent hit list inked in his mind, than a businessman.
“I'm glad you're pleased with the developments.” Grandfather nods, matching the vibrancy in Vladimir’s smile.
"I'm more than pleased. I think the idea to use the forties as an inspiration is absolutely phenomenal. It will bring in the nostalgia which people associate with Sunset Cove from the classic Hollywood era."
“We thought so too,” Grandfather booms.
At least Aurora was right. And surprisingly, I was wrong. Another rarity.
“What is the estimated finish date?” Vladimir’s eyes brighten, and I half expect to see dollar signs forming in his irises. I know he’s already thinking of how he’ll be able to monetize Sunset Cove once it’s done and its potential yearly turnover.
"We should be on schedule to finish everything in the next few months," I answer, feeling like the betrayer again.
"Perfect. I would love to have this ready for the fall for my wedding anniversary. My wife is going to love this.”
His wife.
