Page 1 of Her Jealous Valentine

1

VICTOR

“You know we pay people to do this, right?” I grumble as my car inches a few more feet forward. We’ve barely made it a block in the last twenty minutes, and it doesn’t look like we’re getting much farther any time soon.

“I do, and from what I recall, I pay you a rather handsome salary,” Mother snickers in the passenger seat.

“Since when doestheVeronica Valentine, queen of our empire, moonlight as a comedian?” I can’t stop myself from chuckling. She isn’t wrong. I get paid a fortune.

However, it isn’t to sit in New York’s rush hour traffic to get mother to a doctor’s appointment. If she were going in for something serious, I wouldn’t be so frustrated. But a simple checkup seems like a waste of my time when I should be at the office, working on the biggest venture of my career.

“Retirement changes people, dear. Slowing down and enjoying the little things becomes the norm,” she says. Oh God, not this again. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. “Anyway, youshould try it sometime. Might ease those dark circles under your eyes.”

“These circles are from waking up at five to avoid traffic, only to get stuck in it anyway.” I change the subject before she can spin this into another lecture on why I need to find more enjoyment in life than work.

Yes, it’s a pretty thought in theory, but in practice, the world’s a train that keeps rolling, and I won’t jump off in my prime.

Mother’s retirement earlier this year came as a massive shock to the entire Valentine Group, myself included. But having run our global conglomerate for fifteen years, it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. With her departure, the weight of our family business fell on my shoulders.

How can I slow down and smell the roses when one mistake could destroy everything my family has built?

“Vaughn has the right idea. He doesn’t spend his life behind a desk, watching numbers grow.” Mother gives me a slant-eyed glare of disapproval and insists on delivering her lecture, no matter how hard I try to stop it.

“Vaughn’s a decade younger than me and just finished college. Hard labor hasn’t entered his vocabulary yet. Next, you’re going to tell me I should learn from Vance and smile more.”

I love my brothers. They’re both great, and I don’t have a single bad thing to say about either of them. But I sure as hell won’t take life lessons from a kid who just started his journey of self-discovery or Mr. Nice Guy who cares more about public opinion than what’s good for the company.

Those years are behind me. All I can do now is look ahead and make sure I do the Valentine name proud.

“Besides, I’ve already put in a request for leave once this merger is handled. I’ll be gone for a whole two weeks if you can believe it.” I try to lighten the mood and shift the conversation away from my brothers. I shouldn’t drag them into this, lest I want an earful about how I set Mother on the warpath.

“Ah, yes, our acquisition of La Superiorite.” Mother fumbles the French pronunciation, but I’ll give her props for trying.

Acquisition and merger are interchangeable terms, and we both know it. The diplomatic stance is to say we’re merging with the French automotive giant, but in reality, everyone understands they are being consumed by the Valentine powerhouse.

With La Superiorite wearing our colors, we will have broken into every consumer goods market, from clothing, jewelry, and furniture to planes, trains, and automobiles.

“You don’t sound very impressed.” I tilt my head in her direction and watch her run a final stroke of pale lipstick across her lips.

“Do you need Mommy to stroke your ego?” Her snarky tone cuts so deeply, I almost blush. But there’s no malice or cruelty in her statement. Mother enjoys poking fun—a trait she practiced when I was a boy and mastered in her short retirement. “Of course, I’m proud of you, Victor. You’ve accomplished so much in a very short time. I wouldn’t dream of taking this away from you.”

I turn my eyes back to the road, and as if the heavens are smiling down on me, the dense traffic starts to move. It’s slow at first, but before long, the right-hand lane is clear enough for me to turn in and push the pedal to the metal.

For a second there, I was afraid I had died, and this was my personal hell. Stuck in a conversation about how I’m good at my job but terrible at everything else for the rest of eternity. But as I take the next turn onto the street where the doctor’s office is, the road is still clear.

My suffering is finally over.

“Why do I sense a big, hairybutcoming my way, Mother?” I keep my eyes focused on the road while I tease the higher end of the speed limit to avoid another jam that could very well form with the other cars around us.

I’d never put Mother at risk over something as silly as speeding to a destination. But the irony of crashing this car a block away from the doctor’s office is mighty palpable.

“Butyou really ought to slow down, Victor,” Mother says with finality, raising her voice enough to express her seriousness. Even though I know it isn’t what she’s referring to, I ease my foot on the brakes and bring my car back to a crawl. “If you don’t, you’re going to end up in an early grave like your father.”

Driven by ambition, a Valentine curse.

“I understand your concerns, Mother, but I’m already too old to die young.” I take our final turn into the private practice’s parking lot.

Mother rolls her stark blue eyes at me and shakes her head. Still, in her frustrations, she manages a chuckle and a gentle slap against my shoulder. “Now, who’s the one moonlighting as a comedian?”

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