Page 78 of Never the Best

“Ah, he bossed you around one time too much?”

“Something like that,” I agreed. “He threatened me when I ended my engagement with Josie.”

Cynthia didn’t comment on Josie. She didn’t like her and had told me that, and then said she wouldn’t be discussing her with me as my life was mine and her feelingsabout my fiancée were none of my business. Cynthia had a way of ending arguments before they even started.

“I told him he can takehismoney and do what he wants with it.”

“Your father isn’t going to do that,” Cynthia scoffed. “He lost enough Vanderbilt money when he was managing the estate, and what he has—he knows—is because of your astute investment decisions.”

“And yet, he had no problem, as you so aptly put it, bossing me around.”

“Oh, Rhett, that’s because you let him.”

She had a point.

“He’s not going to be doing that anymore,” I vowed, primarily to myself.

“Good,” Cynthia declared and then went through my calendar and made sure I was up to date with regard to everything I needed to know.

After she left, I pondered what Cynthia said about how I’d allowed my father to bully me.

Why had I done that?

I leaned back in my chair, letting my eyes wander over the space I’d built. The walls were lined with custom bookshelves, not stuffed with meaningless leather-bound props, but actual books I’d read—on finance, entrepreneurship, and the psychology of leadership. A sleek desk sat in the center of the room, organized but lived-in, with my laptop open and a cup of coffee cooling beside it.

This office reflected me. Not my family. Not theirlegacy.Me.

I started Vanderbilt Finance with nothing more than my name, my degree, and a hell of a lot of ambition. People (especially my father) assumed I’d be a failure, calling it a hobby and a vanity project.

I’d turned it into a success. And while I was proud of the company’s growth, I was even prouder that I’d done it without asking George Vanderbilt for a single Goddamn cent. When he saw how well I was managing my trust fund and building something out of it, he eventually asked me to take over his assets and everything Vanderbilt that was still under his control. And I had.

For a brief moment, it felt like validation—like my father finally trusted me and saw me as his heir, not just a rebellious kid trying to prove a point. It had been a proud moment for me, even if I didn’t let him know how much it meant at the time.

Instead of seeing what I had achieved without him, I had been focused on what I had accomplished to gainhisrespect. However, I could no longer remember why George Vanderbilt’s opinion of me mattered so much when our values were so contrary to one another.

My phone buzzed, and it was Cynthia telling me my father had arrived—ten minutes early.

Before I could get up to receive him, my door swung open.

George Vanderbilt didn’t walk into rooms so much as heenteredthem. His tailored gray suit was flawless, his silver hair slicked back in a perfect wave, and his demeanor carefully crafted—a seamless mix of mild disdain and quietsuperiority. He was every inch the arrogant Southern patriarch.

I walked to him, and we shook hands.

“I’ve been trying to make an appointment to see you…which, in itself, is preposterous.” He threw down the gauntlet right at the start, telling me what kind of conversation we were going to have.

“I took a leave of absence.”

I waved a hand at a client’s chair and took my seat. A part of me wanted to sit up straight, but that was the boy still trying to impress his impossible-to-please father. The man I had become lounged in my leather desk chair, at ease with myself and my surroundings. I wasn’t going to behave differently just becausehewas here.

“Leave of absence? What nonsense.” He remained standing by the door.

“How can I help you, sir?”

His lips thinned as he strode toward the chair across from my desk and lowered himself into it. “You’ve been making waves,” he reprimanded. “That little speech of yours at the Soirée for Hope has the whole town talking.”

“Good,” I replied simply.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he pressed on. “And now I hear you’re involved with that Beaumont girl.”

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