Page 7 of Some Like It Hott

“Anjali,” he says, “I believe Preston needs a leave of absence, starting tomorrow.”

3

Preston

“This is a terrible time for you to take a leave of absence.”

Anjali—tall and slim in a gray pants suit, her long black hair wrapped up in a bun—delivers this piece of managerial doom and eyes me with concern.

“I know.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You know I’m not the only decision-maker here. You need buy-in from the other managing directors. The board. I can back you—but I can’t fight the tide if David is everyone else’s clear winner.” She frowns. “You can’t take a month off while your deal and promotion are hanging in the balance.”

We’re in her office, which istrulythe king’s throne. Penthouse location, windows on three sides, views of Manhattan in all directions. Plusher carpet, bigger desk—though the same office chair because there is only so far you can go with office chairs. The next step would be a literal throne.

There is no bigger manifestation of power. She is the queen.

Someday, I will sit on that throne, too. But one step at a time. That’s how I’ve made it this far. One step at a time, and no missteps.

Until my grandfather spoke from beyond the grave.

Now everything I’ve worked for is in jeopardy.

“I have to do this,” I tell her. “This is my family’s land. This is my sister’s business.”

She crosses her arms. “Explain to me how no one contested the will.”

That’s the question, isn’t it?

“It was a divide-and-conquer thing,” I say. “Only one of us got hit at a time. So first it was Quinn’s problem, and he wanted to do it for my sister…and somehow none of us believed it was coming for us, too.”

But there’s more to it than that.

We all need to do this for Hanna. Because wealllet her down.We all left her.

“Preston,” Anjali says calmly, “if you score this deal and win this promotion, you can buy any land you want, anywhere. You can buy your sister any business she wants to run.”

I picture how that would go over with Hanna.

Hanna, I’ve lost you Hott Springs Eternal and the family land, but no worries. I’m going to buy you some new land and throw a fuck ton of money at you, and you can start over. No big, right?

Like a lead balloon.

And it’s not only that. I wish I could tell myself the land means nothing, that I don’t care if Blue Iron strips it for everything it’s worth. But it willnevermean nothing. It’s part of me. In my blood.

I’ve rarely met anyone in New York City who understands what land means to those of us who grew up in the West. It’s a different mindset. In Manhattan, 1.7 million people live in a land area of 22.83 square miles. That’s about 73,000 residents per square mile, for those who math. Land,schmand.

Growing up, hundreds of acres were my personal stomping ground, and I can’t imagine selling that land to someone who sees it as nothing more than an empty space to be stripped for heavy metals, gems, and minerals.

I don’t point out to Anjali that I could already afford any land I wanted or buy my sister any business she wants to run, anywhere. In addition to climbing the finance ladder faster than any banker in Wall Street’s remembered history—or so says theNewer YorkMagazine—I have invested well. Brilliantly, in fact.

I am swimming in money.

It’s not about the money. It’s never been about the money.

“I have to do this,” I repeat. “And Icando this. I can take care of business in Rush Creek and still keep things rolling here. We’re in a good spot with the merger. It’s practically a done deal.”

“You know better than to say that.”

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