Chapter 2
You’re not a good fit for our company… Though your experience with the Delacroix Corporation is remarkable …
At the Dallas extended airport parking, Liam pressed the “unlock” for his Range Rover. He and his growing family had only returned from Switzerland two weeks before, and he’d hit the ground running. He was accustomed to working hard, and moreover, had grown used to solidarity. Liam had attended a hundred interviews.
Either the businesses he considered working for assumed he was just some dumbass that Pierre had given free reign over the American D-Hotel acquisition or he was secretly sent by Pierre to infiltrate their system. Some of them weren’t even Fortune 100 companies for Christ’s sake, so he could understand their paranoia. But Jonathan Liam Delacroix Lemaître Junior a mole? Fuck that, the conspiracy was disrespectful.
“No, not disrespectful. I am no longer the legacy. I’m a fucking mortal.” Liam gave an irate chuckle at that thought. He’d been groomed in such a matter to believe himself, a Delacroix, had to apologize for nothing. Though the world brushed against the tip of his fingers, his portfolio spoke volumes without the backing of a name.
Alligator briefcase overhead, he slammed it on the asphalt and kicked it toward the cement wall. The composite of charts inside—the proof that he’d single-handedly chosen the best options for the Florida, Beverley Hills, and Chicago D-hotels—seemed to mean nothing. Dusty marks trailed the briefcase when he picked it up. He flung it into the backseat and got in the car.
“I got a brand new baby on the way, and I can’t even get a job!” He punched at the steering wheel and skirted backward, jerking the gear to drive and slammed on the gas.
That short trip to Switzerland weighed on his mind. Managing spending money was a new, unexpected evil. Never in life had he deliberately glanced at a price tag.
The radio to his Range Rover was connected to his cell phone. It began to light up with a call from Shawn, his oldest friend from Brinton Prep.
“Bro-bro, how did the interview go?” Shawn asked.
“Next topic,” Liam replied, heading toward the carport exit.
“Man, like that?” He sighed heavily. “Okay, I’m gonna talk with Dad. He’s hiring a few juniors at the firm, we’ll get him to pick you instead—and I mean, not as a fucking kid, dude, you’ll go in as an exec.”
Liam bit his fist for a second. He’d felt like shit for having to ask Shawn to borrow his private jet to Switzerland. Telling Raven that he’d left Delacroix Corp was on his to-do list. But she was pregnant, and so it was right there at the bottom said list, since he didn’t want her to think it had anything to do with her. The love of his life has been pregnant and hormonal, but asking Shawn’s father for a job too, that was a bruise to his own ego.
“I’ve got a few more leads. Besides, your dad has made my investment account golden. I’m good for now.”
“Shit, you could live like kings for the next few years.” Shawn added to his need for a pep-talk. “And if you make me Godfather, your son will be shitting diamonds into his diapers.”
Liam laughed, merging into the airport exit along with other cars, shuttles, and taxis. He had a few friends bidding to be Godfather. He was prepared to respond when the radio chimed once more. “Shawn, it’s Pierre on the other line.”
“Oh …” His friend’s voice was heavy. “We’ll chat later, but keep that in mind about being the godfather.”
After a quick goodbye, Liam pressed the touchscreen. “What?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking the questions?” Pierre’s voice surrounded Liam from the speakers. “You haven’t been to work in over a month. That orchestrated car accident wasn’t too severe. I’m positive that your little Raven has been given a clean slate of health—physically. I won’t even mention mentally. You’ve had enough time to—”
“You knew I wasn’t coming back.” He merged into traffic.
“Let’s fix this. Do you want a seat on the Delacroix board? Do you want to oversee televisions communications, our broadcasting network? Liam, say it, it’s done …” Pierre paused. When Liam chose not to take the key to the kingdom he added, “Let’s make you CEO of—”
“I don’t want any part of the Delacroix golden umbrella.”
The old man scoffed. “Son—”
“Don’t call me that! You’re my grand-père. You don’t get to manipulate me. I know all about your role in keeping me from Raven. You know what? I’m so over the Delacroix side of my heritage right now. And there’s not much more I can say about the Lemaître side.” He paused for a moment. Jonathan Senior—the man he’d been named for—dated the much younger Charlene before she ran away. Then money—ahem, Elise—entered the picture, and Jonathan forgot all about Charlene. Noticing Raven and Liam growing close over the years, Elise deceived Jonathan into the belief that he was Raven’s father. Though, her ironclad trick to keep the teens apart was faulty from the beginning, because Elise married Jonathan while already pregnant with Liam. And for twenty-four years of his son’s live, Jonathan’s eyes were blinded by her money. “A few months ago I just found out that Jonathan is not my dad! And I am very confident in the fact that you knew all along. I thought my mother was crazy, but damn—”
“I’ve been no less than candid with you, Liam. Though, I had no hand in the situation, I stand behind your mother. Elise’s actions are warranted. So she fudged some records to imply incestuous relationship with yourself and Raven. If you remove yourself from the situation and observe that woman for what she is, you would come to terms with the fact that Raven’s wrong for you. Elise knew it all along—”
“Mom doesn’t know anything! Raven has my children—”
“Children? Is … She is pregnant! You let that crazy woman get pregnant, again? How convenient! I'm sure she'll disappear when your meager, noble fortune runs out.”
“Fuck you very much.” Liam slammed his hand against the radio button to end the call.