CHAPTER THREE
Talen
The rest of the weekend flew by in a haze of drunken debauchery. Despite my desire to return home on Thursday night, Brandon coerced me into staying out later. We then went out again after work on Friday night. And on Saturday. And Sunday. As much as I liked to believe I was slowly starting to rise above this immature lifestyle, it didn’t take much for Brandon to drag me back in.
It wasn’t entirely my best friend’s fault, though. Once I had enough drinks in me, I didn’t need any encouragement. After a few glasses of bourbon and a couple shots of tequila, I was usually good to go for the night.
When I woke up on Monday morning, I had a pounding headache and no memory of the previous night. I knew that Brandon and I had hit up a few casinos in Vegas, but the rest was a blur. My temples felt they were being pierced by screwdrivers as I slowly sat up in bed. I didn’t want to move, but I knew the longer I stayed still, the worse my nausea would become.
I pushed myself back against my headboard and rested my head against the cushions. With my eyes closed, I tried to piece together the events of my night. I vaguely remembered walking from the New York, New York to the Bellagio, but everything after that was gone. I swallowed hard and tasted old tequila at the back of my throat. Nothing could make me blackout quite like tequila. No matter how many times I swore I would never drink it again, I somehow always found myself indulging in the burning liquid one more time.
After the waves of nausea began to subside, I opened my eyes and looked around the room. All the sheets were pulled off my bed and thrown haphazardly on the floor. I followed their path until my eyes fell on a naked body wrapped in my comforter. She was lying completely still, her brown hair cascading over her naked back. I squinted, trying to see if she was breathing, but I didn’t see any movement. With a groan, I pushed myself out of bed just enough to nudge her with my foot. At first, she didn’t move, but after a few more nudges, she finally moaned and rolled over.
When she flopped onto her back, her bare breasts were exposed. I stared at her in appreciation for a few seconds. Her body was sexy, and I knew without knowing that we had a great time together. Still, when her eyes opened and locked on mine, I immediately wanted her to leave. The last thing I needed that morning was a conversation with a stranger. She sat up on her elbows, not bothering to cover herself, and grinned at me. I didn’t smile back.
“Time to go,” I said. “I have shit to do.”
“What?” she asked, blinking in surprise.
“Out,” I said simply. “Go.”
She pushed her hair back from her face, her brows drawing together with temper. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope.”
Without another word, I got to my feet and retreated into the bathroom. I could hear her muttering curse words under her breath while she stomped around the room. As the front door slammed shut, I reached over to turn on the shower. The water was warm, but not quite hot when I climbed in. I would have preferred a scalding shower, but I knew the lukewarm water was better for my queasy stomach.
The woman was long gone when I finished my shower. I wrapped a towel around my waist and wandered aimlessly into the living room. I was on my way to get a cup of coffee when a bright green piece of paper caught my eye. It was sitting on the table in my entryway, and I knew who it was from before I picked it up.
T-
Be at the office first thing.
-Dad
My dad always kept our communication short and to the point. He wasn’t one to leave lengthy messages or go into unnecessary detail. The bright green paper was his favorite because he knew I couldn’t miss it. If he stuck with plain white, I could easily pretend I hadn’t seen it. This way, he ensured I did his bidding.
With an irritated exhale, I grabbed coffee and then dressed. I brushed my fingers through my hair and slipped on my shoes. I was out the door in less than ten minutes and was in the office ten minutes after that. Being hungover was bad enough. Having to face my father only made it worse. I could already feel my headache worsening as I stepped into the Gaston Pharmaceutical office building.
A cool rush of air conditioning hit me like a slap in the face. I shivered and made my way across the lobby toward the elevators. My father’s office was located on the twelfth, and highest, floor. When he had the building designed, he specifically requested twelve floors. No more and no less. He believed it was his lucky number and would bring his business all sorts of success. Just the thought made me roll my eyes as I pressed the top floor button and waited for the doors to close.
On the ride up, I wondered what my father wanted to discuss. He never called me into the office unless it was something important.
I stepped off the elevator and immediately came face-to-face with a few of my father’s top executives. I plastered a smile on my mouth.
“Henry,” I said with an enthusiasm I didn’t feel. “Trevor. Richard.”
“Talen,” Henry said with a smile. He extended his hand, and I shook it firmly. “Meeting with Jacob this morning?”
I gave him a salute I immediately regretted. “Always.”
“I keep telling him to just turn over the reins already,” Richard said with a chuckle. “From father to son sounds perfect to me, but what are you gonna do?”
“In time, I’m sure he’ll do just that,” Henry assured me. He patted my shoulder and continued down the hallway. I nodded to the other men before turning to face the dragon.
Henry, Trevor, and Richard had worked for my father for years. They’d all known me since I was a kid, and somehow, they still loved me. Despite my father’s insistence that I was a continuous disappointment, his executives seemed to believe the opposite. They all trusted me implicitly. In their eyes, I could do no wrong.
I knocked on my father’s door and waited for a response. His muffled voice called out to me, and I pushed open the door. When I stepped inside, I immediately searched his face, trying to take his emotional temperature. He was sitting behind his mahogany desk with his hands folded in front of him. His eyes narrowed when he saw me, and he gestured toward an empty chair in front of him. I walked over, scanning the office as I moved.
My father’s office was the biggest room in the building. It took up half of the twelfth floor and was lined with bookshelves. He believed having books around would increase his IQ. It was ridiculous, but I never questioned it. There was only one small window in the office, a tiny one right behind his desk. The window only existed for lighting purposes. My father almost never looked out of it.
He leaned forward, his eyes beaming like a laser into mine. “We need to talk.”
“Yes, I surmised as much.” I tried to keep my sarcasm in check, but it was hard. My father just brought out the smartass in me. I fixed my eyes on him, noticing for the hundredth time how similar we looked and wishing we didn’t.
“The investors have called an emergency meeting. They’ll be coming next month,” he continued, acting as if I hadn’t spoken. “All of them.”
“All of them?” I was caught off guard. There were at least fifty different investors in Gaston Pharmaceuticals, and they’d never been in the same place at the same time.
“Yes, and you will be here to meet with them.”
“Of course,” I nodded, still trying to figure out what was going on.
“You need to make a few changes first.”
Shit. Here we go.
“Changes?”
My father stood up and walked around the desk. He leaned against it so that he was directly in front of me, nothing between us. He looked good. Strong. It was hard to believe this same man had a heart attack just last month.
“I need our investors to see you as a mature, responsible adult, not the idiot party boy you actually are.”
His words stung, but I wasn’t surprised. No matter how hard I worked during the week, he only focused on my actions during the weekend.
“I work twelve-hour days most days, and I’m training to become a Big Brother,” I reminded him.
“It’s not enough. The investors are worried.”
“Why? Our numbers are stable. The patent for the new—”
“They’re worried that you can’t keep your dick in your pants. They’re worried that my plans for you to be my successor are, let’s say, ignorant. They worry that my next heart attack will kill me and this entire company will swirl down the drain of your incompetence.”
I stared at him, unable to believe the words I was hearing. Words that stabbed me to the bone. “I am not incompetent. Under my direction, the—”
“It doesn’t matter!” he roared. “Have I taught you nothing? Appearances mean everything, Talen. The way you dress. Behave. Carry yourself. It all matters. And when your name is tossed around on gossip rags and webloids as a rich playboy, all anyone can see is that label.”
My head was pounding, my stomach churning, but not from the hangover any longer. I couldn’t believe this. No, that wasn’t true. I could believe it. Dad had been harping on me since college to settle down and present a “good face” for the company.
I blew out a breath. “What do you want me to do?”
His eyes narrowed, the lines on his forehead growing deeper, more menacing. “I want you to find a wife. Before the investor meeting.”
“A wife?” As hungover as I was, it took more than a few seconds for it to register. “Wait, what? I—”
“This isn’t up for discussion, Talen,” he barked, his fist coming down on the desk as he towered over me. I jumped to my feet, hating when he used that line of intimidation.
“No.”
“Yes. If you don’t find someone before the start of the month, then I’ll do it for you. You will be married before you step foot in front of the investors. We need Gaston Pharmaceuticals to be respectable and upstanding. The last thing we need is for more of your exploits to hit the tabloids.”
“Oh, come on,” I groaned. “Those magazines will print anything. No one takes them seriously.”
“The investors do.”
“Then they’re idiots,” I scoffed. “Who reads that shit? Dad, come on. This is ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous or not, it’s not a choice. When our stocks rise and plummet based on who the tabloids say you’re fucking, you lose the ability to choose.”
Was that true?
I shook my head. “You can’t force me to get married. That’s insane.”
“You’re right. Legally, you’re an adult, and I can’t force you to the altar.” He leaned forward and the hair on the back of my neck prickled. “But I refuse to stand by for another moment and let your exploits harm the company I’ve worked my ass off to build.”
“Dad—”
“If you aren’t married prior to that meeting, you will be replaced.”
I blinked. He couldn’t be serious. My entire life had been about working for the family business. I never had another option. I couldn’t believe my father would just cut me out over something as stupid as an arranged marriage.
When I said nothing, he went on. “The penthouse apartment you covet… gone. The cars in the company’s name… gone. The bank accounts. Your eight-figure salary. Access to the jet. Gone and gone.” I was having trouble breathing by the time he made his last strike. “And the inheritance you are supposed to receive.” He snapped his fingers. “Gone.”
“Are you serious?” It pissed me off that my voice was so weak, but with so little airflow going in and out, it was the best I could do.
“Talen,” he began slowly, “do you really think I married your mother for love? Come on, use your brain. Marriage isn’t some damn fairy tale. Nine times out of ten, it’s a business arrangement.”
“Sounds romantic,” I muttered under my breath.
He snorted. “So says Prince Charming. With your history, I wasn’t aware you were interested in romance, but go out and fall in love. Give it a try. Just make sure it happens in the next three weeks because if it doesn’t, you will marry the woman of my choosing. And you will act like the happiest, most stable son of a bitch in existence when that meeting comes.”
I didn’t speak. There weren’t words to describe how I felt. I was backed into a corner, and my father knew it. I wouldn’t walk away from his money or from his business. Gaston Pharmaceuticals was my legacy as much as his. No matter how much we fought, I could never turn my back on it. Even if I wanted to.
I pushed a hand through my hair. “Dad—”
“One more thing,” he said, cutting me off. “Brandon Peterson is no longer a suitable companion for you.”
“What?”
“It was fine when you were a child,” he said, turning to walk back around his desk. He sat down and met my eyes. “Even when you were a teenager, he was fine. He was a great college friend. Now? You need to put that friendship behind you and move on.”
“I’ve known Brandon since I was five years old.”
“I’m aware,” he said with a nod. “Friendships are important. That’s why you need to surround yourself with the right people. Brandon is not one of them. He’s a terrible influence, and he’s constantly pulling you down. You need to drop him.”
“Drop him?” I asked angrily. “Jesus, Dad, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Have I made myself clear?” he asked, already turning away from me. He didn’t need me to answer. He knew I wasn’t in a position to argue.
Without a word, I left his office, letting the door slam say fuck you for me.