Chapter Thirteen
“He’s having a rough day.”
Marco was equal parts sympathetic and frustrated. “Well, Rosalyn, the past few days haven’t exactly been a walk in the park for me, either.”
Every moment since Senna had taken Max and left him had been an exercise in simply surviving until the next one. Taking a breath. Breathing it out. Constantly battling the urge to get on a plane himself and follow them back across the ocean.
Their situation wasn’t cut-and-dried to begin with. Nothing had been easy for them. Except the fact that Marco knew in his soul they belonged together. That was the only fact that mattered, and ever since their departure he’d been focused on finding a solution, something to fulfill everyone’s needs. Not just his and Senna’s needs but the needs of his father, his siblings. Even Brynn.
After a few days spent at the bottom of an expensive bottle of scotch, he realized with crystal clarity that he alone held the power to make his future—his future with Senna and Max—what it was destined to be.
The answer had been staring at him the whole time. As much as it went against who he was brought up to be, as different a path as it was, it was the right solution. For everyone.
It began with talking to his father.
“I won’t stay long,” he said as he pushed his way through the front room and toward his father’s bedroom.
He knocked sharply on the door while turning the knob to one of the double doors at the same time. “Father, it’s me. Marco. I’m coming in.”
He stopped in his tracks as his took in his father’s slumped form. Massimo seemed to be napping, his body hunched over, probably blissfully unaware of the late afternoon light filtering through the paned windows and sheer curtains as it attempted to illuminate the massive room.
Rosalyn was right behind him. “Mr. Medina, Marco is here.” The nurse scurried to his father’s side, adjusting him in his chair and smoothing out the blanket over his lap.
He looked so fragile, so small. More than ever, the inevitable reality struck him. His father wasn’t long for this world. How many more days or months could he survive in this weakened state? Massimo’s body was going to give out.
Marco pulled up one of the armchairs so he was on Massimo’s level. Massimo opened his eyes, and Marco watched as they focused and recognition bloomed. He straightened almost imperceptibly, and Rosalyn took the opportunity to adjust the pillows around his chair.
“I’ll leave you two alone. But I’ll be right in the next room if you need me.” She directed her comments to Massimo but gave a pointed glance at Marco before she left, which told Marco she wasn’t going to let her patient be disturbed for long.
Could he do this?
He’d spent his entire adult life chained to the legacy that came with being the Medina heir. It was a role he took on because it was his duty, his responsibility. Because that was the way it had always been done.
But it had turned him into a man he didn’t like. A man who resented his obligations, who wasn’t doing anyone any favors by throwing himself into a role he hated playing. It was time to refuse to let the past dictate his future. He couldn’t change the fact that he was the oldest son and as such held a birthright that went back for centuries. But he could do what was best for Senna. What was best for his own son. And it started now.
“Papi, I’ve spoken with the board at length, and we are making some changes. I’ve come to a decision that we hope you will support.” Massimo nodded slightly but stayed silent.
“Jakob has been using this family for too long. I can’t in good conscience run our company if it comes saddled with a marriage neither Brynn nor I want. I know how you feel about my role as CEO. That it comes with being the firstborn. But we both know I’m not best for the role.”
Marco watched as his father’s eyes grew wide. His lips worked slowly. “You are the heir.”
Watching his father grasp for words was torture, but he spoke as firmly as his health allowed.
“I know. But I’m choosing a different path.”
Marco could see the confusion in his already cloudy eyes. It almost derailed him, that searching, dazed expression. His father wasn’t going to understand his decision. And while that was painful, Marco was resolute. His path was clear, now more than ever.
“Marcellus is willing to take over duties as CEO because, effective immediately, I’m stepping down.”
“No!” The strength his father imbued in the single word startled him.
“Papi, listen. Do you trust me? Do you trust the fact that you raised me to be a strong man, a man of honor? A man of principle?”
He nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Then you know I didn’t come to this decision lightly.” Marco could hear the hoarse emotion in his words.
“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my responsibilities? If I didn’t do everything in my power to give my son the best life, the most normal life, possible?”
His father leaned forward slightly as if he was listening with rapt attention, fearful of missing a single word.
“Papi, Senna and I…we’re bonded. And not just by Max. She’s the woman I’m meant to have a future with, and I can’t lose her. Not even to fulfill this role the family expects of me.”
“Marcellus is well prepared. He’s the one with the mind of a businessman, and he will steer this company back on track whether we merge with Jakob’s company or not. He won’t marry Brynn. But he will make sure our interests are protected.”
Marco took a breath and looked down at his father’s hand, the one he held in his own. It made him think of Max and what he would want for him in the same situation.
I would want him to be happy.
Massimo’s silence unnerved him. When he looked back up he saw tears in his eyes, and his heart wrenched painfully.
“Please say something.”
“I…understand.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, but his lips managed a weak smile.
Marco squeezed his hand tighter. “You do?”
“Go, my son,” he paused. “Find your family.”
…
“You rang, brother?” Marcellus walked into Marco’s office above the stables and quickly made himself at home on the buttery leather couch. Marco had fond memories of that couch, but he pushed them to the back of his mind where he sent all the other recollections of his time with Senna. Marco knew if he didn’t banish them they would bubble up at inopportune times and slowly chip away at his sanity.
Letting Senna and Max get on a plane two weeks ago without him had gutted him. But in the end he couldn’t blame her. He’d treated her terribly, and he had no one to blame but himself for his fragmented relationships with Senna and Max. He loved Senna for making Max available to him by phone and video chats. They were safe in Miami, staying in the corporate apartment with Abby, so at least he could take comfort in that.
He’d set up a special bank account for Senna to use for expenses, but Marco wasn’t surprised when only modest purchases for doctor’s visits and groceries showed up. He was grateful that Senna accepted his help with little resistance.
He hoped she was happy. She deserved to be happy.
Shortly after he’d received his father’s blessing he had a long discussion with Brynn. She was relieved but fearful of what her father would say. Jakob was fervent in his desire to have Brynn be a Medina bride, and he hadn’t been happy when Brynn told him they were breaking the betrothal. Marco was concerned he would take out his disappointment on Brynn, and he offered to help in any way he could. But she assured him she could handle the matter, and she was even looking forward to new opportunities. They parted amicably, and he made it clear he was there if she needed anything. He felt like he owed her that much.
Marco took in a deep breath and addressed his brother. “Marcellus, we need to talk about our executive structure. I’ve spoken with the board, and we’re in agreement that we need to source a new CFO for Medina Enterprises.”
His brother’s eyes grew wide, and Marco could see flashes of anger dance across his face. “You’re firing me?”
“No, of course not. But you are changing positions, if you’re willing. You’re getting a promotion. Congratulations. You’re now CEO.”
Marcellus sat motionless, and he waited until the words sunk in.
“If this is about the money laundering, that wasn’t your fault.”
“It’s not about that completely. I should have caught that, yes. We both can take some blame there. It’s about doing what’s best for me, what’s best for my son.”
“Please God, tell me you’re going to Miami to get your family.”
“Well, I am planning to go to Miami but—”
“But nothing. You’ve been working yourself into an early grave. The company is in a good place. It’s time you took care of your own business and got your family back.”
“You make it sound so easy, Marcellus.” He could hear the weariness in his own voice. When did he become this defeated? When had he ever let anything stand in the way of getting what he wanted?
“You won’t know if it’s easy or hard until you try.”
“Well, little brother, like I was saying, I need to go to Miami. I need to try.”
“I’ll get the jet ready. I’m coming with you. You can brief me on the plane.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” He stood up. “We can also use the time to discuss my new role. I’ll email you the prospectus for our newest venture. Consider it my last executive action before stepping down.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I, brother.”
Marcellus smiled. “The only thing you need to worry about is your son and your lady. Leave the rest to me.”