“I haven’t fucked up in over thirty years,” I said pleasantly. “I don’t plan on starting now.”
His phony affability slid back into place like a curtain falling over a window. “True, but there’s a first time for everything.” He stood, his smile oilier than a fast-food kitchen. “See you at the exec retreat in a few weeks. And Kai? May the best man win.”
I returned his smile with an indifferent one of my own. Lucky for me, I always won.
After Tobias left, I reviewed the last quarter’s financial reports for the second time. Print revenue down eleven percent, online revenue up nine point two percent. Not great, but it was better than the other divisions, and it would’ve been worse had I not doubled down on the shift to digital despite the board’s protests.
A sharp ring tore my attention away from the reports.
I groaned when I saw the caller ID. My mother only interrupted my office hours to share urgent or unpleasant news.
“I have excellent news.” As usual, she cut straight to the chase when I picked up. “Clarissa is moving to New York.”
I flipped through my mental Rolodex. “Clarissa…”
“Teo.” The clack of heels against marble emphasized her impatience. “You grew up with her. How could you forget?”
Clarissa Teo.
A vague impression of pink tulle and braces passed in front of my mind’s eye. I suppressed another groan. “She’s five years younger than me, Mother. Growing up with her isn’t quite accurate.”
The Teos owned one of the biggest retail chains in the UK. My mother was best friends with Philippa Teo, and our family mansions stood side by side in London’s posh Kensington Palace Gardens.
“You were neighbors and attended the same social functions,” my mother said. “It counts in my book. Regardless, aren’t you thrilled she’s moving to Manhattan?”
“Hmm.” My noncommittal answer contained all the enthusiasm of a defendant sitting trial.
Despite our families’ closeness, I barely knew Clarissa. I hadn’t been interested in hanging out with a girl five years my junior as a kid, and an ocean separated us when we were both adults—I’d studied at Cambridge for my master’s while she’d attended Harvard. By the time she returned to London, I’d already moved to New York.
We certainly weren’t close enough for me to feel any type of way over her comings and goings.
“She doesn’t know many people in New York,” my mother said with the subtlety of a thousand neon sparklers spelling ask her out at night. “You should show her around. The Valhalla Club’s fall gala is coming up. She would make a lovely date.”
A sigh traveled up my throat to the tip of my tongue before I swallowed it. “I’m happy to take her out to lunch one day, but I haven’t decided whether I’m bringing a date to the gala yet.”
“You are a Young.” My mother’s voice grew stern. “Not only that, you could become CEO of the world’s biggest media company in four months. I’ve let you have your fun, but you need to settle down soon. The board does not look favorably on people with unsettled home lives.”
“Didn’t one of the board members find his wife in bed with the gardener? A married home life sounds more unsettled than an unmarried one.”
“Kai.”
I rubbed a hand over my mouth, wondering how my smooth, easy day had devolved into this. First Tobias, now my mother. It was like the universe was conspiring against me.
“I’m not asking you to propose, though it certainly wouldn’t hurt,” my mother said. “Clarissa is beautiful, well-educated, well-mannered, and cultured. She would make a wonderful wife.”
“This isn’t a dating app. You don’t need to list her qualities,” I said dryly. “Like I said, I promise I’ll meet up with her at least once.”
After a few more reassurances, I hung up.
A headache throbbed behind my temple. My mother gave me the illusion of choice, but she expected me to marry Clarissa one day. Everyone did. If not Clarissa, then someone exactly like her with the proper lineage, education, and upbringing.
I’d dated multiple women like that. They were pleasant enough, but there was always something missing.
Another image flashed through my mind, this time of purple-black hair and sparkling eyes and a husky, irrepressible laugh.
My shoulders tightened. I pushed the image out of my mind and tried to refocus on work, but glints of purple kept resurfacing until I slammed my folder shut and stood.
Perhaps my mother was right. I should take Clarissa to the fall gala. Just because my previous girlfriends hadn’t worked out didn’t mean a similar relationship wouldn’t work out in the future.
I was destined to marry someone like Clarissa Teo.
Not anyone else.
“Who the hell pissed you off today?” Dante rubbed his jaw. “You were throwing punches at me like I was Victor fucking Black.”
“Can’t handle it?” I quipped, sidestepping his question. I ignored the mention of a rival media group’s smarmy CEO. “If marriage made you soft, let me know, and I’ll find a new partner.”
His glare could’ve melted the marble columns lining the hallway.
I suppressed a smile. Riling him up was even more therapeutic than our weekly boxing matches. I just wish he didn’t make it so easy. One semi-critical mention of his wife or marriage and he reverted right back to his scowling, pre-Vivian self.
We typically boxed on Thursdays, but I’d convinced him to move our standing appointment up given yesterday’s CEO vote bombshell.
“Be my guest. I’d much rather spend my evenings with Viv anyway.” A short pause. “And I’m not fucking soft. We ended in a tie.”
We usually did. It galled my competitive side to no end, but it was also why I enjoyed sparring with Dante so much. It was a challenge in a world filled with easy wins.
“Honeymoon stage is still going strong then?” I asked.
Dante and Vivian had recently returned from their actual honeymoon in Greece. The Dante I’d known for the better part of a decade would’ve never taken two weeks off from work, but his wife had accomplished the impossible. She’d transformed him into an actual human being with a life outside the office.
His face softened. “Don’t think it’ll ever end,” he said with surprising frankness. “Speaking of which, what are you going to do about Clarissa?”
I’d told him about the CEO vote and my mother’s call earlier. As expected, Dante had displayed the sympathy of a chipped boulder, but he never missed an opportunity to hound me about my mother’s determination to marry me off.
“Take her out like I promised. Who knows?” I stopped at the entrance to the bar. “She could be the one. This time next month, we could be double dating and wearing matching couples’ outfits in Times Square.”
Dante grimaced. “I’d rather cut off my arm and feed it through a grinder.”
I swallowed my laughter. “If you say so.” If I convinced Vivian, she could get him to yodel naked on the corner of Broadway and Forty-Second Street. Luckily for him, I also found the idea of couples’