Page 26 of Taming the CEO

After finishing the call, I immediately accepted Gran's.

"Maddox, darling," she said.

"Hi, Gran. Sorry to keep you waiting. I was talking to Samuel."

"How come?"

I decided to fess up yet again. "I figured he could give me some insight on Cami, since I’m obviously reading her all wrong."

"Did you find out anything interesting?"

"Yes," I said just as I reached my house. After getting out of the car, I added, "She cares a lot about the property and preserving the forest."

"Yes, I got the same impression. She's not unlike you, you know."

I frowned, walking around the house and sitting in my backyard. "How are we similar?"

"Legacy is important to the both of you."

I swallowed hard but didn’t reply. Gran had a point.

"I'm sure that if you would put your differences aside, you’d get along splendidly," she continued, her voice changing slightly.

I laughed. "I know where you're going with this, Gran. Don't."

"I didn't even say anything," she replied with mock affront. "Well, we can chat a bit more during our lunch next week."

I laughed again, knowing she wasn't going to back off. That was something we had in common. When we had a goal, we pursued it. And Jeannie Whitley was apparently determined to get all of her grandsons married.

“I can't wait to see you, my boy.”

“You won’t give it a rest, will you?”

"Well, sometimes you boys need a hint or two, and I'm more than happy to give it. And a push, too, if necessary."

"It's not, Gran," I assured her.

I was already fantasizing far too much about Cami anyway. And I had to stop if I wanted to seal this deal.

Chapter Seven

Maddox

––––––––

On Monday afternoon, I headed to Essex. Gabe and Leo were meeting me there. My phone buzzed, and I assumed it was one of my brothers even though we’d already discussed the agenda for the day.

Looking down, I frowned at the screen, and then my blood went cold. Dad was calling. What the hell does he want? The last time I'd spoken to him was when I played mediator between him and the rest of the family when we'd bought his shares in Whitley Industries.

I didn't want to not answer, though. If he wanted to confront me, then so be it. I accepted the call using Bluetooth, gritting my teeth.

"Maddox, this is Dad," he said.

"Hi," I replied.

"Is this a good time?"

"What is it about?" I asked, because it was never a good time. "I'm going to Essex," I decided to inform him.

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