You need direction.
That was easy for Gabriel to say. He’d known what he wanted since high school. All my brothers had. I was the only Valencia bobbing aimlessly in the post-school waters while the rest of my family settled into their respective careers.
The businessman, the artist, the professor, the engineer, and me, the flake.
I was sick of being the failure, and I was especially sick of Gabriel being right.
“I have direction. In fact…” Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t—“I’m almost done with the book.”
The lie darted out before I could snatch it back.
“Really?” Only he could soak a word with so much skepticism it morphed into something else.
Are you lying?
The real, unspoken question snaked over the line, poking and prodding for holes in my declaration.
There were plenty of them, of course. The entire freaking thing was one giant hole because I was closer to setting up a colony on Mars than finishing my book. But it was too late. I’d backed myself into a corner, and the only way out was through.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “I had a big breakthrough at Vivian’s wedding. It’s the Italian air. It was so, um, inspiring.”
The only things it’d inspired were too many glasses of champagne and a massive hangover, but I kept that to myself.
“Wonderful,” Gabriel said. “In that case, we’d love to read it. Mom’s birthday is in four months.
Why don’t you bring it when you’re home for the party?”
Rocks pitched off the side of a cliff and plummeted into my stomach. “Absolutely not. I’m writing an erotic thriller, Gabe. As in, there’s sex in it.”
“I’m aware of what erotic thrillers entail. We’re your family. We want to support you.”
“But it’s—”
“Isabella.” Gabriel adopted the same tone he’d used to boss me around when we were younger. “I insist.”
I squeezed my phone so hard it cracked in protest.
This was a test. He knew it, I knew it, and neither of us was willing to back down.
“Fine.” I injected a dose of false pep into my voice. “Don’t blame me if you’re so traumatized you can’t look me in the eye for at least the next five years.”
“I’ll chance it.” A warning note slid into his voice. “But if, for some reason, you’re unable to produce the book by then, we’re going to sit down and have a serious chat.”
After our father died, Gabriel assumed unofficial head of household status next to our mother. He took care of my brothers and me while she worked—picking us up from school, making our doctor’s appointments, cooking us dinner. We were all adults now, but his bossy tendencies were getting worse as our mother entrusted more and more of the family responsibilities to him.
I gritted my teeth. “You can’t—”
“I have to go or I’ll be late for my meeting. We’ll talk soon. See you in February.” He hung up, leaving the echo of his thinly veiled threat behind.
Panic twisted my chest into a tight knot. I tossed my phone to the side and tried to breathe through the ballooning pressure.
Damn Gabriel. Knowing him, he was telling our entire family about the book right that second. If I showed up empty-handed, I’d have to face their collective displeasure. My mom’s dismay, my lola’s disapproval and, worst of all, Gabriel’s smug, know-it-all attitude.
I knew you couldn’t do it.
You need direction.
When are you going to get it together, Isabella?
You’re twenty-eight.
If the rest of us can do it, why can’t you?
The phantom accusations tumbled into my throat, blocking the flow of oxygen.
Four months. I had four months to finish my book while working full-time and battling a nasty case of writer’s block, or my family would know I was exactly the wishy-washy failure Gabriel thought I was.
I already hated going home every year with nothing to show for my time in New York; I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the same disappointment reflected on my family’s faces.
It’s fine. You’ll be fine.
Eighty thousand words by early February. Totally doable, right?
For a moment, I let myself hope and believe the new me could do this.
Then I groaned and pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes. Even with them closed, all I could see were blank pages.
“I am so fucked.”
CHAPTER 5
Kai
I leveled a cool stare at the man sitting across from me.
After yesterday’s CEO bombshell and my unsettling interaction with Isabella, I’d hoped for a smooth day at work, but those hopes spiraled down the drain the minute Tobias Foster showed up unannounced.
He wore a shiny new Zegna suit, an even shinier Rolex, and a smug smirk as he inspected his surroundings.
“Nice office,” he said. “Very fitting for a Young.”
He didn’t say it, but I could read between the lines.
I earned my office; you were born into yours.
Which was complete bull. I may be a Young, but I’d worked my way up from the bottom like every other employee.
“I’m sure yours is equally nice.” I gave him a cordial smile and glanced at my watch. He’d catch the movement; hopefully, he would take a hint as well. “What can I do for you, Tobias?”
He was the head of the Young Corporation’s Europe division and my biggest competition for CEO, so I’d made an exception to my no-unscheduled-meetings rule and invited him into my office.
I already regretted it.
Tobias was the worst sort of employee—good at his job but so crass and irritating I wished he weren’t so we could fire him. I appreciated his competence, but he was one step away from sticking his foot so far down his mouth even the world’s most talented surgeon couldn’t retrieve it.
“I just wanted to drop by and say hi. Pay my respects.” Tobias fiddled with the crystal paperweight on my desk. “I’m in town for a bunch of meetings. I’m sure you know about them. The Europe division is expanding so fast, and Richard invited me to dinner at Peter Luger.” His laugh grated through the air.
Richard Chu was the Young Corporation’s longest-serving board member and a dinosaur when it came to innovation. We’d butted heads multiple times over the future of the company, but no matter how much power he thought he wielded, he was only one vote out of many.
“I’m not surprised. Richard does enjoy a certain type of company.” The type that’ll kiss his ass like it’s made of gold. Tobias’s smile slipped. “Perhaps you should get going. Traffic can be quite brutal at this time of day. Would you like me to call a car for you?”
My hand hovered over the phone in a clear dismissal.
“No need.” He released the paperweight and pinned with me a hard stare, all traces of fake deference gone. “I’m used to doing things for myself. But life must be a lot easier for you, huh? All you have to do is not fuck up for the next four months and the CEO role is yours.”
I didn’t take the bait. Tobias could talk shit all he wanted, but I was damn good at my job and we both knew it.