Chapter 1
Ian
New York City was the coldest fucking place I could imagine. I’d always loved the city, but I’d loved it as the kind of guy who hadn’t needed to leave for work every morning. I’d loved it as the kind of guy who could lie in bed, curled up next to the warm body of my latest sexual conquest.
Now, as I navigated the rush hour traffic, I hated it. I hated how flurries of snow and dirty sleet stuck to my heels. I hated how, even when the valet warmed up my Bentley and had it ready to go, the seat was still cold when I sat in it.
None of this would have been a problem before my dad died a little over a year ago. But now I’d taken over his car, taken over his penthouse, and taken over his position as CEO of a medical technology company.
I shifted in my leather seat and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but all I smelled was my father’s cologne. Everywhere I turned, every breath I took, everything I did reminded me of him, because now, everything in my life used to be his. He’d been stolen from me a year ago, and his death had caused me to question everything in this world.
At least I could depend on one thing: coffee. The Starbucks closest to Dad’s place—now my place—had become my new morning tradition.
After I had found a parking spot, I eased out of my car, wincing at the cold. It was hard to move, and I couldn’t blame all of that on the freezing temperature. My hours in the office translated to fewer hours in the gym, and even though my body wasn’t showing it yet, I was feeling it. My face, too, looked different to me. Fuller. Defeated.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the car’s window. I stopped and looked at myself for a moment and shifted strands of my sandy-colored hair aside.
Then I tightened my tie and buttoned my coat.
I couldn’t believe how much I was actually starting to look like my dad. I sighed. If only I could run the company half as well as he had, then it’d all be easy sailing...
“Shit,” I breathed, pulling my gaze away from the car window, my teeth chattering. “It’s cold out here.”
I picked up my pace and crossed the street, not even bothering with crosswalks as I headed toward the coffee shop’s front door. My stride was determined, and so was I. Because I really needed that fucking caffeine.
A warm blast of coffee-scented air wafted over me as I stepped inside, but as soon as I took in the scene before me, my eyes narrowed into slits. If I could have shot lasers from my eyes, I probably would have. The line was ridiculous — in fact, it ended only a couple of inches away from where I stood, freezing my ass off with every new customer entering the doorway.
I sighed.
Sometimes the city had perks, and sometimes it definitely didn’t.
The dreadlocked woman in front of me took a couple of steps forward, and I took a couple steps forward. Sheep. Caffeine-crazy sheep, all of us. I could only hope that the morning rush would die away soon. I looked at the fast-working baristas, running around like crazed pinballs behind the counter. The morning rushes with caffeine-starved, work-destined people were probably a nightmare, and I sympathized with the baristas. I could only sympathize so much, though, because I was on a time-crunch, and I wanted that coffee twenty minutes ago.
It was crazy, really, if I thought about it. There was a Starbucks on every corner in the city, but it didn’t change the fact that I still had to wait in line every damn time I came in.
I probably could have had some intern run and fetch me coffee, but it wasn’t my style. This was how I was raised. Besides, a part of me enjoyed the laid back atmosphere, after I actually got my damn coffee.
My hand started fidgeting almost like I was a drug addict. My addiction was like my newfound love for caffeine, and Starbucks was my very own crack-cocaine. Not that I should have been surprised. Coffee was the only thing that seemed to get me through the day — and I’d consumed gallons of it over the last year.
I glanced at my watch and cringed. I’d never carried a watch before. I hadn’t really needed one. Honestly, I hated how much I needed one now. Sometimes I hated how dramatically my life had changed in recent months. I was only thirty-four years old, and I felt damn near eighty.
I was thrust into a position that I hadn’t been ready for, and one I’d never completely wanted. Being CEO wasn’t at all what the movies made it out to be. It wasn’t all money, women, and playtime. I knew money, women, and playtime — well, at least I used to —and this definitely wasn't that. This was actual work.
Actual hard work. I had some really large shoes to fill.
My father was Dr. John Cross. He had founded the company. I couldn’t believe that it was mine now. His gift he bestowed on me. A shitload of money and twice as much responsibility.
Medical Technology Specialists Incorporated, or MTS Inc. for short, was built by my dad from the ground up. He’d started with a small loan and an idea, and now it was a multi-billion-dollar company. My multi-billion-dollar company. The thought made me shudder.
We specialized in developing medical technology for hospitals and health care centers. It was what you could call a lucrative business, and it was one I grew up around. I knew it backward and forward, all because he had known it backward and forward. I was thankful that he’d put so much work into it, and I was even more thankful that he’d taught me the ropes. But after his untimely death, I’d had to take over. Even though I was grateful for everything he left me, I was still overworked and over-stressed.
He was always there — in the back of my head — judging me, constantly trying to whip me into shape. I couldn’t let him down, not after how hard he’d worked. The company was his legacy and so was I. It was only natural that I would run it and do everything in my power to make sure I lived up to his good name.
The thing that bothered me the most, though — the thing that had been tearing at me more than anything, and the one thing I wasn’t particularly very thankful for — was the fact that he had left us all in the midst of a terrible lawsuit against another biomedical research firm, BioResearch Labs. Their name had become a shitty taste in my mouth for the past year.
It had seriously been a day in and day out of constant battling with them. All over a patent—a piece of technology that they blatantly stole right out from under us.
It had all begun about six months before my dad’s death, and it still hadn’t wrapped up. In fact, it’d be safe to say it was the opposite of wrapped up. Things had started to get ugly. Really ugly.
I breathed out, partially because just thinking about BioResearch Labs and the lawsuit pissed me off, and partially because I was still waiting in the long ass line that hadn’t seemed to shorten at all.
The dreadlocked woman in front of me took another step forward, and so did I. One step at a time. Eventually I’d get my caffeine.