I tapped my fingers on my desk while Kimberly and I stared at each other. Those few minutes were more like hours, and I could feel the unease creeping beneath my skin. I needed to get this over with. We both did. The tension was killing us.

The phone finally rang, and she sprang from her seat.

I raised my hand and nodded. "I'll take it."

She sat back down and looked at the team that was directly involved with securing the deal with this high-profile client.

"Hello," I said, settling back and feeling the tension disappearing. It was the decisive moment, and no amount of worry was going to change the inevitable.

"Mr. Coleman. How are you?"

After a quick round of pleasantries, Bryan O’Leary handed the phone to the main man, the one client my father and I had been secretly fighting to win.

Sheikh Azeera of Dubai.

"Bradley," he said, his voice deep. "I hope you are doing fine."

"It's good to hear from you, sir."

My team and I had been exchanging emails and phone calls with his assistant, O’Leary, for a few months now, and it wasn't until that moment that he personally contacted me. That could only mean one thing.

I had beaten my father.

Sheikh Azeera had chosen to go with Cole Advisory instead of HC Accounting.

I was going to handle personal finances for one of the wealthiest men in the world.

But most importantly, it meant that it was a slap in face of Herman Coleman.

"I'm afraid that I have decided to go with your father's firm," he said.

My stomach dropped.

I glanced at everyone's smiling faces as they sensed the unwelcome news and began whispering to one another.

"I am sorry," the man continued. "I did not know that Cole Advisory was separate from HC Accounting. When did you start your own venture?"

The Sheikh wasn't the first person to have been confused about Cole Advisory being completely separate from HC Accounting, which was my father's firm. It was way older and had the kind of big-name clients that most accounting firms could only dream of having in their corner.

"That's okay, sir. I'm so sorry about the confusion."

What followed after my fake apology was a series of questions about Herman Coleman, my legendary father whom Sheikh Azeera couldn't stop praising.

"He is a brilliant man, your father."

He was still talking, and I wasn't sure why I was listening anymore.

I sighed and pressed the speaker button before placing the phone on my desk for everyone to hear.

The team gathered around it like bees to honey. My assistant, Kimberly, kept her gaze fixed on me, reading my face while Azeera went around in circles, lecturing me on how valuable it would be for my career to work under my father's guidance.

Citing an urgent meeting, I was able to end the call as politely as I could.

There was silence in the room. The kind that leads to a storm.

Though I didn't feel stormy just yet. I was positive, even hopeful.

"We'll get the next one," I said, and the smiles returned to people's faces.

Except for Kimberly's.

She knew me all too well, and perhaps, that's why she hesitated to draw my attention to my phone again.

It was my father.

"Everyone out," I ordered and waited to answer until my office was empty.

I cleared my throat and pressed the green button.

"Son," he said, the gloating oozing from his voice.

"What do you want, Dad?"

"Can't I just call my son to say hello?"

I rolled my eyes and placed one leg atop the other.

"We both know why you've called."

He laughed and I didn't react. The last thing I wanted to do was give him more power than he already had. I couldn't let him get to me.

"I'm impressed, Son. You really thought that the royal family of Dubai would let an amateur 35-year-old handle its finances?"

I curled my fingers into a fist and felt the phone vibrate against my ear just as I was about to snap at him.

It was Heather. I declined her call to continue that gut-wrenching conversation with my father. I wanted to see the amount of garbage that he could spew from his mouth.

"You think you can just steal my last name and build a name for yourself so easily?"

Okay, that was it. "I didn't steal your last name, Dad. I was born with it."

I brought my fingers to my temples, wishing there was a way to virtually shake him up and bring him to reality.

"You tell yourself whatever it is that you need to," he said. "But remember you will never—"

I clenched my jaw and threw the phone across the room before he could finish his godforsaken sentence.

Kimberly stormed inside the office after hearing the thumping sound.

"Mr. Coleman," she said, concerned. "Are you okay?"

I covered my eyes then lifted my head to look at her.

"Just get me coffee."

She nodded and turned around.

"And book two tickets to Spain immediately."

She raised her eyebrows.

"To Spain? Two tickets?"

"You got a problem with that?"

She shook her head and reached for the doorknob.

"Wait," I said, sighing. "Please grab me my other phone."

I'd always kept a backup phone just in case one of them stopped working for whatever reason. Every phone call that came my way would usually result in huge financial deals and I simply couldn't afford to miss any of them.

But it wasn't business that had me asking for my backup phone this time. It was Heather.

She was one of the few people who were important to me. I didn't have much family. No siblings, and I wasn’t particularly close to my parents either. Well, that would be factually incorrect.

I hated my father. And my mother? Well, she shared the same values as him, but we got along . . . fine. Being a mere socialite, she and I usually didn't have much to talk about. She'd seemed to have learned her lesson and backed away from my life when she noticed that I harbored hatred for her in my heart.

My parents were filthy-rich control freaks and I'd lived a majority of my young adult life doing what they thought was best for me. It was always about their reputation, their demands, instead of my dreams and desires.

When I’d had enough of living under my father’s shadow and reached that tipping point, I quit his firm and started my own. That’s when this race between him and I began.

“Just the beginning,” I would tell myself every time Herman Coleman got ahead.

In our line of work, buttering people up was key, and my father had become an expert at kissing people’s asses. Apparently, the only person he was real with was me. His son. And I looked right through his façade.

I called Heather back when Kimberly handed me the phone and left, feeling visibly unsure of whether she should.

"Brad?" Heather said, her voice a mere whisper.

"I take it Max is asleep," I said, glancing at my wristwatch. "Does that mean you got a lot of work done this afternoon?"

All I heard was a sigh and then a slight whine.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Forget about me. I want to hear about your day. Apparently, you and I don't talk enough about you."

I shook my head and narrowed my eyes.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? My life isn't all that interesting. I'm not the one who has the cutest kid in the world."

"Rubbish," she protested. "You live the life. Have you bought a country or two since this morning?"

I smiled. "Almost. But my father stole it from me."

Silence. "I'm sorry. Was it the Sheikh?"

"It was. But it doesn't matter anymore. I'm flying to Spain to clear my head and visit one of my restaurants. You and Max interested in joining me?"

That question was pointless, of course. Heather wouldn't jump on a plane with me without a clear plan in a million years. She, too, was by the book. More so now that she was overwhelmed with the pressures of being a single mother.

As much as I'd love to take her to an exotic location and just relax while having deep and meaningful conversations with her, I'd settled with asking my fuck buddy, Tanya, to come instead. Pun totally intended.

Heather sniffed on the other end of the line.

"Are you going to Spain by yourself?" she asked, already knowing the answer to that. "Never mind. Don't answer that. It was stupid of me to ask."

"Good, because I want to go back to the reason you called me. Because you never would have right in the middle of my day unless it was important."

I could swear that I heard her sniffle.

"Are you crying? Heather?"

"No," she replied, her voice shaky. "I told you that I don't want to bother you with my stuff anymore."

"Where is this coming from?" I asked.

She didn't respond for several seconds, then said, "Rachel."

"Rachel? What about her?"

Heather and I became friends through Rachel, who was sleeping with one of my friends at the time.

"She's sleeping with Neil," Heather said. "Neil Rowdell? Is he your friend?"

Well, now she had fucked two of my friends. Arthur Bridge and Neil Rowdell.

"He sure is. But how is that relevant?"

She sighed. "Well, she and I were talking about it and I just realized that I don't know anything about you."

I chuckled. "You know plenty about me. You know that I fucked a woman named Tanya Crosby this past weekend. And you also know that I will probably fly her to Spain with me. Trust me, there isn't much else about me that would interest you. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to hear more about how much pleasure my father takes at competing with his own son."

She was silent, then I heard Max in the background.

"I'm sorry. I have to go."

She hung up, and I leaned back, staring outside the window at the tall buildings that stood proudly before me. If only I could feel proud as well.

Sticking her head into the office, Kimberly smiled.

"What is it?"

She walked in and placed two printed tickets on my desk. One of them had the name Tanya Crosby on it.

"Would you want me to inform Tanya about the upcoming travel details? Would you also like me to notify your restaurant manager in Spain that he should expect you to arrive tomorrow?"

Apart from being the head of my accounting firm, I also owned a chain of restaurants around the world. The restaurant business was more passion than work for me.

It was kind of like an escape. Every time things went south with this business, I would run off to the other one while also making a vacation out of it whenever I could.

I thought about Kimberly's two questions.

I didn't particularly want to spend a full week with Tanya because that would result in way more than just fucking. And as much as I would love to run off to take care of my other business in Spain, even though I didn't really need to, I would much rather spend that time with Heather.

She was upset, and I needed a distraction from my own problems.

"Are these refundable?" I asked Kimberly.

"I don't think—"

"Never mind." I waved it off and grabbed my briefcase before leaving.

I drove to Heather's apartment myself. Driving, even in New York, helped clear my head.

It temporarily forced me to focus my attention on the road instead of on work. It was therapeutic, though Heather would disagree. Being a psychologist, she enjoyed picking apart my habits and beliefs, making me question my every move.

She was a handful, that woman. But she was also a good friend, and more importantly, an excellent mother.

I'd grown to have a soft corner for her boy and felt like he deserved to have a positive male influence in his life.

Rachel and Heather lived all the way in Brooklyn, which was half a world away from Manhattan. Their apartment building wasn't a high-rise like the ones that I was used to seeing. Instead, it was only a couple of stories high with small wooden balconies that looked like they could break at any moment.

Removing my sunglasses, I locked my car and made my way in.

I knocked but there wasn't any answer, so I turned the doorknob and discovered that the place was unlocked. This was always such a foreign thing for me because I had never lived in a place that didn't have automatically locking doors.

Rachel was fast asleep on the couch, her mouth wide open and her white T-shirt short enough for me to see her butt cheeks.

I looked away. If she was really fucking my friend, Neil, then she was off-limits.

I knocked on Heather's bedroom door and she opened it in an instant.

"Shit. I’m sorry. I didn't hear you come in."

"Oh, hey there, little guy," I said, glancing at Max's smiling face.

He was only a few months old, so I doubted that he remembered me from when I saw him last, but I preferred to flatter myself nonetheless.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Heather handed him to me before falling over the bed.

She was wearing an oversized dress that didn't accentuate her curves, but I couldn't help but have my imagination wander when I saw her lying down. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders, a few stray strands falling over her face. Her hair was messy, but that's just the way I liked it.

She flashed a smile through her exhaustion and her deep dimples made me want to kiss her immediately.

I patted Max's back and tried to push the thought from my mind.

Heather? Hell, no.

I usually went through the ritual of reminding myself that she was just a friend every time I saw her. She was exactly the kind of woman I would prefer to sleep with, only she wasn't the kind I could risk losing because I didn’t want to offer myself emotionally.

Women were complicated and I preferred to keep it simple with them. Hooking up with Heather, even if it were just for that one time, would ensure more complications than I cared to deal with. The kind that I didn't have the time for.

"Thanks for coming over," she said, still lying down. She spread her arms on the bed and looked toward the ceiling.

"So, you want to tell me what's going on with you?" I asked. "Or are you still going to be stupid about wanting to know more about me first?"

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes for a moment. "I love Rachel," she said. "Don't get me wrong. I really do. But our friendship is going to shit ever since I moved in."

I shrugged. "Some people make great friends but not good enough roommates."

She turned her eyes to me and smirked.

"And you know that how? Have you ever had to share a place with someone?"

While I was thinking of something clever to say, she continued.

"Maids, chefs, and housekeepers don't count."

I laughed.

"How long are you going to be gone, by the way?" she asked.

"Gone where?"

She sat up, taking Max from me when he started fussing.

"To Spain? Short-term memory loss, much?"

I gave her a lopsided smile. "Oh, that. Yeah, not happening anymore."

She twisted to the other side so her back faced me, then pulled down one side of her dress to feed Max.

I turned my head and she sensed my awkwardness.

"Sorry but not sorry," she said. "If you are okay with seeing five different sets of breasts in a week, you sure as hell can handle this too."

"Did I say anything?"

She shrugged, holding her son in her arms.

"You didn't have to say anything for me to know—"

"Please," I cut her off. "Don't you go all psychologist on me."

I heard her slight chuckle.

"Seriously, though, Brad. I'm fine, I swear. I don't want to keep you here for no reason. It's not like there's much that you can do anyway."

I raised my brow.

"Try me."

She shook her head.

"I'm not joking. Go. I don't want you to cancel your trip because of me."

I walked over and stood right in front of her. "First of all, no. Watching you breastfeed does not make me uncomfortable. And secondly . . ." I paused. "Are you sure you're okay with my leaving?"

She nodded.

As much as I wanted to be there to help her out whenever she needed me to, she was right. There was only so much I could do, most of which she wouldn't let me.

I pulled out the backup phone from my pocket and sent Kimberly a text.

"I'll see you once I'm back," I said.

She looked to the side and gave me a smile. "Have a fun time, and give my hello to your booty call."