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“Okay, then. That’s easy. Go tell Dad you can do a better job of fixing this mess.” I stared both of them in the eyes. I hated that we all shared our father’s gray eyes. “Wait," I said, with feigned shock and surprise, "you have no idea how to fix this, do you? I completely forgot.”
The sarcasm dripping from my voice had them both shuffling in their seats. They may have gone to school to become scientists–with the singular purpose of taking over the family business–but they had no idea how to actually run a business. I, on the other hand, may know nothing about science, but I knew everything I needed to know about business.
They were crafty, I would give them that, but they lacked the finesse and skills that were required to navigate this world properly.
"Look, this wasn’t us,” Xander finally said, sounding awfully subdued. “For all we know, it was you. Maybe you don’t want to leave after all and want to take over everything and leave the rest of us with nothing.”
“Shut the fuck up, Xander.” My voice was deadly low, and he actually listened for once. “Both of you, get the hell out of my office.”
With one last nasty glare, they silently stood up and left. I shoved my fist in my pocket, surprised I didn’t rip the seams, and pulled out my phone. It took me several tries before I could finally unlock it, anger and rage blinding me from the numbers of my passcode. Still fuming, I scrolled through my contacts to find one of my least favorite: my father’s number.
I seethed with rage at my brothers as I heard the ringing.
Why the hell would they pull this now?
"Daniel." I heard my dad's baritone on the other end of the line. "I was just about to call with this latest news. What are you doing about it?"
"I just found out, Dad, and Xander and Jamie were here waiting to rub it in my face. Just tell me that your hands are clean. I can't work with people going behind my back."
"What are you talking about, Daniel? Why would I jeopardize my own company?"
"No offence, Dad, but you might take a hit in your wallet to make me look the fool. I'm not sure you ever trusted me to run this company."
"That's nonsense. I don't appreciate you accusing me. This is below the belt, even for you."
"I'm not accusing. I'm asking. I need to know who's for and who's against me. Give me that respect. I'm about to leave, as agreed, but I've always given you my best."
"It's not me, Daniel. But now it's time to prove that you have what it takes to turn this around."
I hung up. Dammit.
Chapter 2
Amy
Istoodinfrontof the entrance of the National Research Institute, feeling incredibly small. San Francisco had no shortage of impressive buildings. Growing up nearby, I wasn’t fazed much by the gleaming of the city.
But this building. This building was grand. It towered over everything and so much important work was done inside the granite and glass.
I glanced at my reflection in the window's glass. Slim lavender pants and a simple black turtleneck sweater neatly tucked in at the waist with sensible black flats on my feet. I had doubted the pants a million times that day, worried that they might not seem serious enough. But just because I was a scientist didn’t mean I couldn’t like a little color, right?
I pulled my curls into a low bun, although a couple around my temple were trying to escape. In deference to the fickle Bay Area weather, I had tucked a rain jacket into my large black leather tote bag. Being prepared always made me feel more confident.
Taking a deep breath, I marched up to the rotating door and willed my feet to take me forward until I was at the reception desk. I barely noticed the shiny lobby, all white floors and sunlight. The ceiling stretched stories above me and a group of chairs sat in a cluster.
Everything in the lobby seemed designed to impress, including the young, attractive man sitting behind the reception desk.
“Welcome,” he said warmly, with a smile that matched. His thick, light brown hair glowed in the lobby's light. It totally lit him up, highlighting his features–full lips, lean but muscular shoulders, blue eyes, and full brows. He was basically a cover model for a high school movie.
I tried to paste on a bright smile, but was worried that nerves dimmed the shine a bit.
“Hi. I’m Amelia Palmer.”
“Ah, yes. Dr. Palmer. I’ve been expecting you.” He started shuffling through a small box on the desk and produced a black keycard.
“You’ll head to Room 401,” he said. “Your keycard should work without a problem, but if you have any issues at all, please come back and I’ll be happy to help. It should remain active until your meetings conclude and then will immediately deactivate. We’d appreciate it if you returned the card to me, but no worries if you forget.”
I took the card and felt the hard edges bite into my skin as I held it too tightly. This was my "in"; it would let me into all the restricted areas in the building. Only temporarily, but still. How would it feel to have a permanent card? To actuallyworkhere?
