AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Make that thirty-nine years and ten months,” I remind Flynn. “In case you aren’t aware, that means in two months’ time, you are turning forty, my friend. So, you two will both be sporting an age that puts you in the decade above me. Better try to hang on to the thought that you are young, for the very short time you have left.”
All he can do is give me the middle finger.
“Very grown up of you, Flynn. Showing your immaturity again.” At least it makes me start laughing. No matter his age on paper, I’m not sure Flynn will ever grow up.
“Fuck off. You are only six months younger than I am. By this time next year, we will all be over forty, well, except Remington. Don’t they say life begins at forty? Bring it on!” Flynn now laughs to himself.
“You have been squeezing every single bit of life out of your forty years, Flynn. What makes you think that will change?” Forrest rolls his eyes at him.
“Okay, enough of this, let’s get started on the rest of today’s agenda. Are you still meeting with Jocelyn later today to go over the budget for the food in the function rooms?” My fingers tap away on the keyboard as I sign into the system. I look up at Flynn, waiting for his answer, and his face says it all. “She’s not that bad. I mean, she wants to rip both of our balls off most days, but besides that, she is good at her job. Anyway, you can always blame Forrest, he sets the budget, you just need to make sure she implements it.”
“She likes me because I pay her wage, hence the man that controls the money will always get the girls.” Forrest smirks at us.
“Ughhh, please,” I groan, “you might manage the pot with the money in it, but I’m the one who fills up your pot, idiot.” Giving him the bomb-drop action with my hand has Flynn laughing out loud and then looking straight at me.
“You have to be nice to her, she’s related by blood.” He gives me a look of pity of someone who has been dealt the worst hand in a card game by having her as a distant cousin. “Me, I can tell you now, I don’t have to smile and be polite to her because she is not even close to my distinguished bloodline. She gets on my nerves and is a right royal bitch to everyone she speaks to. So, to answer you, yes, I’m still meeting her today. Why do you think I told you we are going out drinking tonight? I need something to get me through the meeting with the dragon on steroids. When are we shipping her out to be based at one of the other hotels again, you know, the one is Siberia we need to buy?”
“She’s not that bad,” Forrest adds, already typing on his laptop. I look back at my screen as the emails just keep rolling up in front of me.
“Whatever,” Flynn complains, throwing a cushion across the room at Forrest that he dodges as it hits the wall behind him, trying to get my attention and annoy Forrest at the same time.
“Real mature,” I grumble. “Don’t you have a job to do, you know, the one I pay you for?”
“I just thought that was because you are such a good friend that a large—but of course, it could always be larger—sum of money arrives in my bank account each month.” He finally pushes to his feet and stands up again. “Anyway, my job here is done. I have calmed the growly boss man and locked him in for a big Friday night out, after what is going to be the day from hell. All in a day’s work, and it’s not even lunchtime. He’s all yours, Brother. Try to keep him from scaring the staff too much for the rest of the day, will you.”
“Flynn?” I call, looking him straight in the eyes, while Forrest looks like he wants to kill him.
“Yes?”
“Fuck off and go do some work, will you.”
His smirk and chuckle sum up our relationship.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Weston.” He knows that pisses me off, closing my door on his way out.
“I’ll leave you to it too. I have a little brother to go pull into line or put in a head lock before he does something stupid to alienate Jocelyn, more than she already is complaining about. She thinks we all pick on her and never give her any support in her job. Not sure what gives her that idea.” Slapping his laptop closed, Forrest is up and out the door too.
He is far more intuitive than his brother has ever been; thank goodness someone can read the room. He obviously knows that I need to be on my own with my thoughts, before I rip someone apart.
I shouldn’t let the board get to me, but I do.
This company should have been my father’s, but that wasn’t meant to be. For all those years the hatred I felt toward him has now turned to anger at the hand he was dealt. To be honest, I had no idea any of this existed until that pivotal night back in Sydney, almost four years ago, when Broderick, my grandfather’s private investigator, approached me.
Nothing was ever the same again.
Leaning back in my chair, I glance at the photo of Mum and me, the day before I left Australia. We’re standing on the edge of the harbor, the opera house in the background, the water blue and shimmering. The sun is shining and there’s an iconic Sydney ferry in the backdrop, heading into Circular Quay. That was my life and all I had ever known. I was happy in my life, but that was because I didn’t know what else was out there. The memories are now taking over my mind and squashing any thoughts of boardroom clashes.
“It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Richard Nicholas Weston, Sally Weston’s son.”Broderick’s voice echoes in my head as clear as if I were back there that night.
“Who are you?” I ask, not confirming or denying who I am. I stare sideways at this man, not turning fully around to acknowledge him. I can see him well enough that it’s now hard to believe he could be my father. We look nothing alike, and he’s not as old as I thought at first glance.
Still, my body is on high alert and my mind is in meltdown. Hardly anyone except my mother and grandparents know my full name. I never use Richard and have always been called Nicholas. But Mum never gave up the love she had for my father, so she named me after him. I have hated it every day since I was old enough to understand he left us. To the world, I’m Nicholas or Nic, but this man is stepping into a place I never want to be… ever!
“My name is Broderick Jones. I’m a private investigator working for Charles Darby, who is your paternal grandfather. Is there somewhere more private we can go to talk so I can explain everything?” His broad English accent worries me that he might actually be telling the truth.
“No, not interested.” Turning forward again and putting one foot in front of the other is the only thing my brain can manage. I feel like I want to hit something and throw up at the same time.
“Wait, please, Richard. Give me a chance to explain,” he calls, chasing behind me. Flynn is also mumbling words that I have no idea what he is saying. My panic is shutting everything down, trying to push it all away.
