“You’re right. I am upset about losing the vote,” I said. Iron underlaid my voice. “I’m upset about losing it to someone who cheated his way into winning. You were a decent COO, Russell. You could’ve competed fairly instead of lying and manipulating the very people you promised to serve.”
“Fairly?” The word brought a violent tide of crimson to his face. “Fairly? There was nothing fair about the process, and you know it. I worked my ass off for the company for two decades, ten of them as COO. I’m supposed to be the second-in-command, yet the minute you swan in, fresh out of school with your fancy degrees and family name, people defer to you like you’re in charge. Well, I’m sick of it.”
Russell’s hands fisted. “The CEO selection process was a farce. Everyone knew you were going to win simply because you’re a Young. I was included as a pity candidate despite everything I’ve done for the company. While Leonora was busy traveling and you were busy chasing pie-in-the-sky deals, I kept the lights on and the offices running. I deserve recognition, dammit, and I refuse to serve under some arrogant, peacocking upstart who thinks he’s better than everyone!”
His voice escalated with each word until it boomed like thunder through the stunned room. A vein throbbed in his forehead, and flecks of spittle sprayed from his mouth. The stench of rage and indignation poured off him in thick, rolling waves, making my stomach turn.
This was a man who’d been bottling up his feelings for years, if not decades. A man who believed so firmly in his martyrdom that he saw nothing wrong with what he did. In his mind, he was well within his rights to lie, cheat, and blackmail his way to the top because he “deserved” it.
I wasn’t immune to my shortcomings. Looking back, I could admit I felt as entitled to the CEO
position as he did. The only difference was, I didn’t fuck other people over to try and get it.
I kept my gaze steady on his. “You say that,” I said, each syllable sharp enough to cut. “Yet you considered Tobias strong enough competition to threaten him into withdrawing. If it were truly rigged, you could’ve stopped with me and left him alone. But you didn’t, did you? Because you know that underneath your justifications and excuses, you simply aren’t that good.”
The low blow landed with unerring accuracy. The remaining color leached from Russell’s face.
His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.
I typically wouldn’t resort to ad hominem attacks, but he’d made my and Isabella’s lives hell the past few weeks. Even if he hadn’t targeted me, I would never forgive him for what he and Victor did to her.
The lull finally prompted a measured reaction from the board. To my surprise, Richard Chu was the first member to speak up and declare Russell’s selection invalid. Others fell in line, and things moved quickly after that.
By the time the dazed guests filed out of the ballroom half an hour later, Russell had been stripped of his company titles and responsibilities, his deputy had been appointed his interim placement, and the date for a new CEO vote was set for two weeks from now. There would also be a criminal investigation into Russell’s activities plus a reckoning for the board, a quarter of whom had succumbed to his blackmail for various reasons, but those were issues for another day.
“Kai.” My mother stopped me after I said goodbye to a wildly entertained Dante and a shell-shocked Vivian. “Quite an evening you directed tonight.”
“Thank you. If I lose the vote a second time, perhaps I’ll pursue a career in show production,” I said dryly. “I seem to have a knack for it.”
A smirk touched her lips.
Between Isabella, my mother’s surprise visit, and my initial loss, our relationship had been strained to its limits the past month. However, I sensed a tiny thaw as we faced each other in the now empty ballroom, both too proud to back down first but too exhausted to leave our relationship on bad terms.
“You did well,” she finally said. Giving the first compliment after an argument was her version of an apology. “I never would’ve suspected Russell. After so many years…”
“He fooled a lot of people, myself included,” I said in my own admission of fallibility.
Another silence descended. Neither of us were used to bending, and our concessions rendered our standard modes of operation obsolete.
“It’s been a long night. We’ll talk later this week, after things have settled,” my mother said.
I nodded, and that was that.
It was a short conversation, but it was all we needed to reset our relationship. That was the Young family way. We didn’t indulge in heart-to-hearts or drawn-out apologies; we acknowledged the problem, fixed it, and went on with our lives.
I exited the ballroom after her and returned to my suite, but I didn’t make it halfway before my adrenaline flatlined. The high from successfully exposing Russell faded, replaced with a familiar, piercing ache.
Now that I was alone, away from the noise and distraction of other people, Isabella’s voice crept back into my head like a ghost I can’t escape.
Please just leave.
The ache sharpened into a spike.
I set my jaw and headed straight to my suite’s mini-bar, but no matter how many glasses of alcohol I tossed back, I couldn’t blunt the impact of her memory.
Six days. Four hours. One eternity.
Tonight should’ve been one of my greatest victories, but in the quiet, luxurious confines of my room, I found it hard to celebrate anything at all.
CHAPTER 39
Isabella
“You’ve been working nonstop for the past week.” Alessandra regarded me with naked worry.
“When was the last time you slept more than three hours a night?”
I rubbed a hand over my bleary eyes. “I don’t need sleep. I need to finish the website copy.”
The mouthwatering smells of espresso and pastries saturated the air, but every bite of croissant tasted
like
cardboard.
I
hadn’t
enjoyed
a
single
meal
since
I
returned
from
Christmasbirthdaynewyearpalooza, and the thought of forcing more bread down my throat made my stomach churn.
I pushed my plate aside and took a gulp of coffee instead.
Alessandra, Sloane, and Vivian exchanged glances. We occupied a corner table at a new café in Nolita, which buzzed with Saturday morning activity. Fashionably dressed couples, models, and a minor celebrity from a new hit TV drama crammed around pale wooden tables while servers circulated with lattes and mimosas. Potted plants hung from the glass ceiling and gave the airy space a greenhouse feel.
It was the perfect location for catching up after Vivian’s return from London and Sloane’s business trip to Bogotá, but everyone was only focused on me.
“No, you need sleep,” Sloane said, blunt as always. “If the bags under your eyes get any bigger, you’ll have to pay an oversize luggage fee.”
Self-consciousness prickled my skin; it took all my willpower not to check my reflection in my phone’s camera. “Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome.” She sipped her black coffee. “Friends don’t let friends walk around with raccoon eyes, even if they’re heartbroken.”