Page 54 of The Paradise Problem

Sixteen

LIAM

There he is,” Dad says by way of greeting. “My middle son, Liam, the future CEO of Weston Foods.”

My heart comes to a sudden, lurching stop, and I’m unsure how to respond in front of the senior editor of Forbes, Ellis Sikora. Throughout my life, Dad has said this to me a hundred times, but given that we haven’t spoken in five years—after the fight about my return to school rather than my return to the family company—any rational person would have assumed he’d have given up on me succeeding him at the top. It’s one thing to hope I’ll come back to Weston Foods; it’s another thing entirely to think I’d ever step into his corrupt shoes.

But of course, most people don’t know my father the way I do.

In the handful of seconds that follow, my brain cycles through a dozen different responses, trying to estimate the public fallout as well as my dad’s reaction to each one. A yes would be binding; a no would make the family gossip fodder and send the stock tanking, not to mention sending my father into a rage in private later. He’s daring me to choose which way I want to drag the razor blade across my throat.

What I’m not sure of is why he’s chosen to do it now.

So I play his game, sinking a hand into my pocket, adopting an easy posture. “I think it’s better for you to keep me on the outside,” I say, all corporate chitchat, cagey evasion. “I advise you whenever you ask me to, but you don’t have to put me on the payroll.”

Both men laugh, but Dad’s is forced, his eyes tight.

“He’s a professor at Stanford, no?” Ellis asks, and then sips his drink. “Specializing in corporate culture and ethics. Would be an interesting transition back to C-suite for the family business.”

“It’s been a great way to get diverse leadership experience,” my father agrees, as if the way I broke ties with the company and decided to pursue academia was his idea from the start. “He gets to dabble in his models of corporate harmony shit and learn the ropes of administration constipation, then come settle down in the family business and put it to good use when he’s ready.”

“I guess he’s always had a hand in the family business, though,” Ellis says slyly, eyes hawkishly on me. “Even as far back as when you were a teenager, I mean. Liam, the technology you built was objectively extraordinary. I know you’ve never commented on the PISA scandal, but—”

“And I’m definitely not going to at my sister’s wedding,” I say, cutting him off and forcing my voice to remain steady. Even the sound of the acronym still sends a chill down my spine, makes me want to sink a fist into my father’s jaw. “It’s great to meet you, Ellis, and I’m sure there will be plenty of time to talk business after this vacation, right?”

“Right.” Ellis lifts his glass to me.

I lift my gaze, searching for Anna. I find her standing near the bar, talking to Jamie. Her dress sparkles in the low light, rendering her a glowing goddess in a room full of mannequins.

Beside me, my father says my name in a way that makes me think Ellis has had to ask me something more than once.

I blink back to him, leaning in. “Sorry. What was that?”

“I said,” Ellis says with a smile, “I realize we aren’t going to touch on PISA tonight—”

“Or any night,” I correct, as much to Ellis as to my father. “Just so we’re clear. Even if we were at an event where it felt appropriate to speak on the matter, I wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” he says, not working to mask his disappointment. “I wish you felt differently, but I understand. I’d still love to hear any comments you might have about taking over the CEO role when your father retires.”

How about not a chance in fucking hell? I think, but Anna’s bright laugh rises out of the din, teasing at my attention. “A statement? Right now?” I look around us, gesturing. “Is this a board meeting? Dad, do we have a quorum?”

Dad laughs heartily at this, but his eyes are still ice. I know for a fact that we don’t. Only three of eleven members have arrived, in fact. I’ve been counting.

“I think any statement would need to be cleared by the board,” I tell Ellis. “I know Forbes is excited to get some buzz out there, but let’s do this the right way, what do you say?” There. Evasive enough, but not a flat-out denial. I hold out my hand, and Ellis takes it with an amused smile. “Have a great time on the island, okay?”

Without acknowledging my father, I turn to leave, intending to walk directly to Anna, but she’s no longer at the bar. As calmly as possible, I wander around the party, shaking hands when I’m stopped, saying hello, returning hugs, but everything gets only half of my attention. My mind spirals beyond this moment, beyond this room, wondering what my dad is up to, wondering where Anna has gone. It’s then that I notice I don’t see Jamie, either.

With tension ratcheting in my gut, I walk out of the restaurant, heading down the trail toward the beach and the bungalows, searching every shadow for her and dreading what I might find: two figures entwined in the shadows, one long and willowy, wearing a dress like a million tiny stars glimmering in the moonlight.

I hear her voice, low and reassuring, her quiet, husky words reaching me in a shapeless murmur, as if she’s having a private conversation. My pulse rockets, jealousy raging inside me.

But then I pull up short at the view of her from behind, sitting on a long branch that dives down from the tree and runs parallel to the sand for several feet, forming a perfect natural bench. She’s not alone; she has her arm around someone, but it’s nothing like I thought.

Beside her is Reagan.

I approach but stop when I hear the telltale sound of a jagged sob.

“There’s nothing harder than seeing your friends having fun when you’re gone,” Anna says soothingly. “Yes, you’re on a private island. Yes, you’re in paradise. But our hearts don’t care. Parents forget what it’s like sometimes.”

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