Dane salivated over one goal—to run Laurent Holdings as its CEO, sooner than later. Although he had initiated a power move over Damien, his older brother, he didn’t gloat over his win.

Greed didn’t motivate him. As the self-titled, best man for the job, his desire to hold on and grow the family’s legacy ruled over any sense of deference to his brothers—Dallon, the eldest, or Damien, the middle one. And in any case, neither brother truly wanted to be their father’s second-in-command.

Dane’s pragmatic approach to taking his place at the top spot, however, set off a domino-effect of hurt feelings, accusations of his betrayal, and roiling anger toward him from every corner of his world.

To most of the family and the local sphere, he was the bad guy. The unpopular Laurent who had moved like a corporate raider.

One newspaper cartoon depicted him as a praying mantis munching on Damien’s head, while his brother’s body lay next to Dallon’s headless one. A crown labeled Laurent Holdings was hooked on to the insect’s antenna.

The critics’ stinging condemnation showed no signs of letting up. However, none of the public scoldings swayed him from his ambition. That is until his father put a brake on his son’s momentum.

Philippe Laurent might as well have taken a pin and pierced Dane’s inflated reality reminding him that his place at the top of Laurent Holdings wasn’t guaranteed if the relationship with his brothers remained fractured beyond repair.

Family unity always underscored his father’s motto.

And what mattered to Dane was getting his father’s blessing.

What needed to happen was playing nice with his brothers.

Because at the end of the day, Dane aimed to prove that he had what it took to carry Laurent into its next chapter. Landing a big contract or unveiling another viable business proposal no doubt would soften his father’s irritation.

“That’s it for today, Mr. Laurent. You only have to stretch out those muscles and you’re set to begin your day.” His personal trainer held out the water bottle for him.

Dane set down the fifty-pound hand weights and sat up on the weight bench before blowing an exhausted breath. His heart pounded with the after-effect of the workout. He took a long drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Still breathing heavily, he said, “See you in the morning for another one of your torture sessions, Chang-Min.”

The young man’s evil smile promised a lot more of the grueling workout that he plucked from his professional bodybuilding regimen. With only a brief wave, the trainer’s massive display of muscles was its own walking advertisement.

Dane checked out his arms in the mirrored wall of his gym. He had the size that he wanted, now he wanted the definition and chiseled cut to his physique. Using shortcuts with powders and supplements weren’t his thing for achieving his goals. Healthy foods and targeted blasts to various parts of his body were more of his style for the right result.

“Do you ever stop looking at yourself?” Dallon strolled into the gym definitely not dressed for a workout. Instead of the regular attire of a casual golf shirt and tan slacks, he wore a tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, and blood red tie. His highly-polished black dress shoes stood out against Dane’s worn athletic ones.

“No,” Dane answered, “and, why should I? A life of purpose means that everything matters. What you say. How you look for the part. What you do. You’re always judged.”

“If you allow other people’s judgment to make you act like a show horse, you’ll have an unhappy life,” Dallon addressed Dane through the mirror. “Seeking adulation can be addictive.”

Dane peeled off his sweaty T-shirt and tossed it over his shoulder. “Talking from experience? Or just talking?” He waved off his brother’s warning. “And what’s up with the designer wardrobe? Who are you trying to impress? Who’re you being a show horse for?”

“You. I’m here to impress you.” His brother smirked and offered a mocking bow. “You called a meeting. I answered the call, bright and early. Figured I might as well look the part and afterward go straight to work before you sack my ass like a redundant throwaway.” He leveled a cold stare to match his contempt.

Dane finished the rest of his water and slammed the bottle into the nearby rubbish bin. “Don’t you start that shit with me,” he warned and then remembered his father’s edict. “Anyway, since you are more than hinting about Damien, I’ve made moves to patch up our rift.”

“What? The weak invitation to lunch with him?” Dallon hacked up a short burst of laughter. “Yeah, I heard about it. You are so damn cocky. So, you plan to talk it out and miraculously patch that sinkhole you’ve created.” His brother’s disgust grew every time they were together.

The quietest Laurent had shed his moniker and now wouldn’t shut up.

Instead of engaging in a rowdy argument, Dane walked out of the gymnasium that was attached to the guest house. He marched up the flat stone pathway to the main house not waiting for Dallon to follow.

His frustration surged over the constant snipes at his past actions and at his remedy for the current situation. When would his efforts be deemed sufficient? He was pretty sick of being the perpetual bad guy.

When Dallon’s footsteps drew closer, Dane slowed down at the back porch until they were side-by-side and said, “Remember when you groused about Damien’s absences from work? Remember your criticism of his foolish behavior that landed him in the news every second? You spoke up then. You criticized him. And it was because you were worried about Laurent Holdings. Not about him. Not about me. But about the company.”

Dallon opened his mouth to speak, but Dane wasn’t done. He raised a hand to stop any rebuttal. “You said ‘I wish he would quit and let the adults do their job.’” Dane leaned into his brother’s face, almost nose-to-nose. “I did the job that everyone was too damn scared to do. And Damien had several chances to speak for himself. Chances to tell us what was going on. Why was he constantly in the hospital after all his partying? How about stop acting like a drunk.”

Dane drew his fingers across his lips like closing a zipper. “Nothing. He said nothing. Treated you, me, and dad like we were the enemies. We all tried to understand what the hell was going on. Not even his mother could get through to him. So, for the last time, save me your sanctimonious bullshit. Damien isn’t the saint. And I’m not the devil.”

Dallon walked past him with his mouth pinched and set in a hard line. “Tried to tell you. Damien is here waiting on the patio,” his brother casually tossed over his shoulder, as he continued into the house.

Fuck. Dane turned his attention to the end of the patio where Damien sat in a large wicker chair that partially shielded his body. No doubt that he’d overheard the latter part of the conversation. But shying away from a messy encounter wasn’t Dane’s style.

Damien looked up from texting on his phone. His expression lacked the expected anger, instead, he gave Dane a measured, contemplative once-over. “Made myself comfortable.”

“Thanks for coming.” Dane cleared his throat where his embarrassment lodged like an olive pit threatening to choke him. “Time got away from me. I’ll take a quick shower and then we can get down to business.”

Damien pointedly looked at his watch.

“I know.” Dane held up his hands. “Help yourself to anything while I get cleaned up.”

Yes, he’d called the meeting. Yes, he was late to his meeting. Yes, he’d given Damien hell about being late to meetings. He retreated into the house. Why was the world conspiring against him? Fuck.

 

Showered, dressed, and less frantic, he walked out to the small dining area that shared space with the patio. Damien and Dallon had started eating breakfast. Their easy laughter and conversation died upon his approach. He jutted his chin forward, pressed on a tight smile, and pretended that he wasn’t bothered by their frosty attitude as he took his seat.

“Looks like you’re enjoying breakfast. That’s good.” Dane was proud of his house staff, especially the two chefs he’d hired for their heart-healthy cuisine.

“Egg white quiche may not look appetizing, but sure does taste good.” Dallon gave him a thumbs up as he scooped up a forkful from his plate.

“I’ll let the chef know,” Dane said. He glanced at Damien’s plate that was covered with a colorful array of fruit. Uneaten.

“I’m heading to another breakfast meeting. Didn’t want to ruin my appetite.” Damien who normally wore suits with ties askew and jacket unbuttoned with sleeves rolled up now looked the picture of refined sensibility. Dressed in a polo shirt and slacks, he’d fit in with the car racing business mavericks.

Somewhere in his brother’s response was an insult, though. Dane decided to brush it off and offered a small nod.

“What’s this meeting for?” Damien leaned back in the chair. Boredom oozed from him unsettling Dane’s focus.

“We’ve been at odds with each other,” Dane began, “and, I want to continue to make amends. A fresh start, in other words.” He poured a tall glass of orange juice and raised it in a toast.

“Hmm. Hope the royal family or government never have to use you for diplomatic outreach,” Damien muttered.

“It’ll take him awhile,” Dallon said and shifted his gaze to Dane. “Can’t expect Damien to make it easy for your conscience to be cleansed.”

“Why should I feel guilty?” Dane bristled not from the accusation, but from his reaction of regret that couldn’t seem to diminish. Really, why should he feel guilty?

“Spare me the handwringing.” Damien sighed. “Look, I’d rather be elsewhere. Your mother asked me to attend the meeting. For the family’s sake and all that. And my mother agreed with the pep rally.”

“And my mother also weighed in. That takes the peacekeeping mission up a notch.” Dallon chuckled. “The mothers have spoken.”

“Intervened,” Dane groused. Obviously, they didn’t think he could get his brothers to be of one accord, much less to support him, without a bit of arm-twisting.

Vonna and Lydia were ex-wives number one and tw0. His mother, Bridgette, was soon-to-be the third. Over the years, the mothers chose to be close for the brothers’ sake. Vonna and Lydia were a tight bond and more recently with Bridgette’s failing marriage, she sought refuge with them. When the women combined forces, their determination had the strength of gale winds to push any disagreements between the brothers toward a ceasefire.

“Let’s not dally, what do you need from us?” Damien’s impatience surfaced.

Dane looked at each brother and launched into his spiel. “I have an idea for the business. An ambitious one.”

“When isn’t it?” Damien quipped, but the curiosity burned in his gaze.

“Dubai should be our next venture. Let’s take a bold step and drop anchor in that part of the world.”

His brothers stared at him.

“Was contacted by Yasmin Mariman,” Dane continued unfazed.

“Should we know who she is?” Dallon asked. He looked across the table at Damien who shrugged.

Their ignorance annoyed him. Why did he think they would keep abreast of news related to Laurent Holdings? At the very least, they should have learned the major points about the company’s beginnings and key accomplishments leading it to become a significant market share holder in Monaco’s real estate business.

Dane pushed on with his lesson. “Yasmin is the daughter of the Persian billionaire whose company owns a couple oil fields and luxury condominium buildings mainly in the Middle East. Dubai, for instance.”

“And…?” Damien prompted. His lackadaisical posture shifted into tensed readiness. If nothing else, he had a knack for sniffing out the next potential business lead for the company.

“Her family and ours have history. Our fathers were once friends who worked together.”

Dallon tossed up his hands in frustration. Confusion reflected in his questioning gaze. “Dad doesn’t talk much about the early days. Like the time before Laurent Holdings formed. Why bother with his past?”

“History is important. Our history, background, the building blocks of what Laurent Holdings are all about this gray area where rumors swirl and our father’s enemies slander.” Dane didn’t like having his family disrespected by the news or industry pundits. “I want to know everything. What our father shares isn’t enough. So, did a little digging because I’d come across archived files bearing Mariman’s name. The same Mariman who is now an oil tycoon with a daughter—Yasmin.”

Damien pulled his plate closer and started to eat the fruit. He’d caught the scent of something worthwhile.

Dallon got up and poured more coffee for each of them and then resettled into his seat. “Go on.”

Dane continued, “Dad and Farrokh Mariman started an insurance business in the 70s and then they moved into mortgages and banking by the early 80s. Very soon after the business launched successfully, they abruptly sold their bank to a private bank in the United Arab Emirates and went their separate ways, never talking to each other again.”

“They had a falling out. Big deal.” Dallon sipped his coffee. His avid interest somewhat diminished.

“I want to know why dad won’t talk about it. What had him so agitated when I brought it up?” Dane wanted them to be equally curious and eager for the answer. “The rumor is that dad forced the sale of the bank and then cut him loose. Soon after, Laurent Holdings was built leaving the mortgage business completely and diving into real estate development.”

He’d never been rebuffed by their father about matters concerning the business. But when Dane had mentioned Mariman’s name, the visible change that overcame his father meant something. He’d drop the matter but filed it in the back of his mind for a later time.

Playing detective over the issue wasn’t a part of Dane’s busy schedule. The unexpected arrival of Yasmin, however, reignited his commitment to the quest of finding out about his father’s friend and partner and the cause for the breakup.

“You do have a knack for agitating. Take my advice and leave dad’s past alone,” Damien remarked drily.

Dane bristled but didn’t attack like he’d want.

Dallon leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “And the daughter … what about her?” At least, his interest hadn’t dimmed completely.

“She’s coming to Monaco. Get this…she’s using our leasing service to rent a number of condos for her use and her small entourage. Says they are planning to stick around Monaco to check out the landscape and to squeeze in a tour of the south of France.”

Dallon grinned. “I can hear the cash floating through the air on that account.”

“Yes, I got excited about that, initially.” Dane did the math. They’d rake in a pretty penny. “Then, the reality kicked in. I don’t believe this is a casual visit. Mariman’s real estate division has a significant market share in Dubai and large parts of Asia. I don’t trust that she isn’t heading to Monaco to make some big moves.”

“You can’t help jumping to conclusions,” Damien accused, shaking his head. “Now you have someone else in your crosshairs. Maybe I should warn her.”

“Exactly what would you say to her?” Dane demanded beyond irritated at Damien’s needling.

“That your M.O. is to detect for any perceived signs of weakness and then to scuttle in for the feast like a vulture.” Damien saluted him with a piece of cantaloupe on his fork. “Or something like that.”

Dane closed his eyes for a second to control the surge of anger already burning in his gut. Maybe all this restraint on both their parts did nothing to move them closer to the neutral zone. Keeping his head down, he asked in the tone of a job interviewer, “Do you miss working at Laurent?”

Damien didn’t answer.

Dane answered, not really waiting for his brother’s response, “The answer is no. Do you want to come back to work for Laurent?”

His brother still didn’t answer.

“That answer is no.”

“You didn’t have to be a bastard to push him out. That’s the bloody problem,” Dallon interjected with a forceful pound of the fist on the table. The dishes rattled.

“You want a do over to wash your hands of the guilt? Is that it?”

Dallon huffed and settled back in his chair. But he didn’t say anything.

“I hate being hated. Okay, there I said it. Damien didn’t want to be in the job but didn’t want to walk away voluntarily.” He focused on Damien. “Your actions had an effect on your team and the company. You can’t have one foot in and your mind out there—and this was for months.” Unlike his business skills at navigating treacherous waters, he truly didn’t know how to fix the bridge between him and his brothers.

Damien, with head downcast, fiddled with the remaining fruit on his plate. Meanwhile, Dallon swirled the dregs of coffee in his cup.

“I’m sorry, Damien.” Making up with his brother was beyond just getting his father’s approval. He simply couldn’t succeed and have peace of mind without his brothers’ support and forgiveness. “Truly sorry.”

Damien pushed back his chair from the table, took a deep breath and blew out. His expression remained unreadable, then he stood and straightened his clothes.

Dallon tensed. His hand no longer played with the coffee cup. His hands gripped the table.

It wouldn’t be the first time that Damien and Dane took out their anger on each other like heavyweight boxers. Although it had been a few years since the last brawl, their reputation still hung over them as a strong possibility of the final solution.

Damien walked up and then offered his hand.

Dane tentatively took it. His eyes shifted over to Dallon for assistance to read the current situation. His eldest brother’s eyes widened, but all he gave was a shrug.

“Look … everything you said is true. And I am happier doing my own thing with electric racing cars. Plus, I’m in love.” Damien stepped back. “I really shouldn’t act like a wounded jackass. Except it is fun to give you a hard time.”

Dane exhaled, not realizing that he’d held his breath. His heart swelled with emotion. Before he got too emotional, he embraced his brother.

“Damn, that’s a first,” Dallon commented from the table. “I would join in on the brotherly hug, but this coffee is too damned good. And if anyone walked in and saw us hugging, it would break the illusion that we hated each other.”

“Besides, you are the resident crier,” Damien teased.

“Bonding time over.” Dane clapped his hands and headed for his seat. “Back to Yasmin Mariman and why I don’t trust her.”

“Listening,” Dallon said.

“All ears.” Damien resumed his seat.

“Yasmin earned a reputation as being a cunning, cold-hearted business woman.”

“For a second there, I thought you were going to use the B-word.” Dallon tutted.

“She’s been called that too.” Dane couldn’t wait to meet her, to see if his intuition was true that she’d deliberately reached out to their company for ulterior motives.

“Don’t tell me you’ve started a file on her.” Dallon covered his mouth, which did little to stem the bark of laughter.

“Of course, her antics in the media spotlight keeps the file full.” Dane didn’t feel any discomfort taking the preemptive position.

In his gut, he was certain that this was a brazen attempt to step into their turf and carve a chunk out of his father’s legacy. He was sure that Farrokh had sent his daughter to be the messenger to carry out the invasion onto their territory.

“You’re pretty scary. Your face is lit up like this is a fun exercise.” Dallon wagged his finger at him.

Dane smirked at the truth. “Damien can be the charmer. You can be everyone’s best friend. I will be the…”

“Chief,” Damien finished, but this time he didn’t have the hurt and anger in his tone.

Dane smiled and offered a slight bow. “Not yet, but soon. And Yasmin Mariman just might be the ticket to my next plan of action. Because while she is here testing the waters in Monaco. I suggest we put out feelers for Dubai. Let the Titans challenge each other. And we’ll show them a real power play.”

“Now look here … you’re overthinking this situation. Relax. Doesn’t always have to be about work.” Damien’s romance with Anna certainly had put him on the mellow side of life. “Is there a small chance that she truly is here for fun and the sun. Hell, maybe she could be a necessary distraction for you? In between your campaign, you might sway her to your side.” He winked and chuckled over Dane’s discomfort.

“I don’t need any distractions,” Dane added a bit of force behind the words.

As Dane had gathered the intel on Yasmin, of course, he’d come across photos of the Persian beauty. Bold features with big, expressive eyes. Its colors were swirls of olive and amber. She looked directly at the camera with an appealing confidence in the tilt of her chin where a slight dimple was present. She’d be an artist’s treasure for the distinctive lines of her eyebrows that arched high over her eyes that gave way to the prominent nose. This woman was beautiful, proud and self-aware. As he’d lingered over the full, wide mouth that exhibited its own Mona Lisa smile, he wondered what her voice sounded like when she spoke. He imagined a soft, but steely edge. He couldn’t help the bubble of excitement.

His scrutiny hadn’t missed a detail. She didn’t boast an athlete’s physique or model-thin dimensions. Her curves shaped a generous silhouette, a style that reminded him of the Hollywood golden age era when the voluptuous Sophia Loren and Gina Lollobrigida wowed the men of Monaco.

“Maybe Yasmin should come in and turn your world upside down. Soften you up around the edges. I’m voting for her and I haven’t met the young lady.” Dallon laughed at him.

Dane snorted. “Think of her as the enemy until evidence proves otherwise. In any case, I’m a lost cause for that romantic nonsense, no offense, Damien. But my heart only has one agenda. And it isn’t going to be a dark-haired, spoiled princess.”

“That alone makes me give one vote for Yasmin.” Damien held up his coffee cup and tapped against Dallon’s raised one.

“Count me in. Team Yasmin.” Dallon laughed at Dane’s irritation.

“Time for you, both, to get out.” Dane stood to end the meeting. Nothing more productive would come out of it.

Dallon and Damien left the house refusing to mute their teasing. Their laughter stayed in his head well after they’d driven off.

As he looked out over his backyard nibbling on an apple slice, he fixated on his plan.

Despite the good looks and good fortune that boosted Yasmin’s lavish tastes, she wasn’t to be underestimated. He’d studied her business decisions as head of the recently created commercial real estate division. Behind the power moves, she didn’t shy away from a challenge. Her confidence bordered on arrogance with a stamina to fight hard for what she wanted.

He was very intrigued. “Unlike my brothers, Yasmin Mariman, I’ll be ready for you.”