Page 25 of Lies in Promises
“It was warranted.” I give him a shrug and sip my coffee like there isn’t a huge mess all over my apartment.
“Please explain why trashing a fifteen-million-dollar apartment was warranted.”
No matter how old I get, when Henry looks at me like his head is going to explode with anger, it makes me feel like I’m a kid.
Instead of making up some bullshit answer, I give Henry the truth, like I always do.
“I lost out on the solar-powered car. The fucker sold it to someone else for a lot more than it’s worth.”
Henry lets out a sigh. I don’t know if it’s because he feels bad about the deal or because I’m being overdramatic about it. I’m going to take a wild guess it’s the latter.
“Sir, not every deal is going to be yours.”
“I know, but do you know what this could have done for us? It would have taken some work to get it to our standards, but when it happened, it would have put our name right next to Mercedes, BMW, even fucking Honda.”
“Apologies, sir. I didn’t know we were stepping into the car business. I must have missed that memo.”
“I think it would be a good business venture.” I finish up my coffee and put the mug in the sink. The irony of putting the cup in the sink doesn’t go unnoticed. The whole damn place is a mess, but the cup has to go in the damn sink.
“Everything is a good business venture to you—everything but your actual business.”
Oomph. Straight to the fucking chest.
Working at Lane Enterprise, my family’s company, has been something of a wrench in my and Henry’s relationship for the past four years.
When my parents died, the company didn’t go to a specific person. It went to a group of executives who were supposed to keep the company afloat until one of Thomas Lane’s sons was old enough, starting from the bottom and making their way up until the title of CEO was theirs.
I think my parents hoped both of their sons would make Lane Enterprises and every entity that came with it, like my mother’s gallery, a household name, that we would be side by side, an unstoppable powerhouse.
And maybe that would have happened if my brother hadn’t left, but he did, and with it, he gave up his share of responsibilities with the company. Now, everything falls to me, even when I don’t want anything to do with it.
On my eighteenth birthday, I was granted twenty-five percent ownership of Lane Enterprises. I was also granted a job without a specific title, which essentially means I can have any lower-level job I want, no questions asked. If I want to be CEO, I have to work my ass off for it. For now, the CEO position has been filled on a temporary basis.
Instead of working at the company right out of high school, I went to college for no other reason than I didn’t want to go work at my father’s company.
Don’t get me wrong, I see the benefits of working for Lane Enterprises, and I have plenty of ideas to make it even better, but I can’t make myself do it.
Even though he’s been dead for fourteen years, I can’t bear the thought of sitting in that building for an extended period of time, let alone anywhere near my father’s office. I can’t bear the thought of running his company.
I should be over it by now, just like I’m over my brother leaving, but I’m not.
When it comes to Robert, I stopped hoping that, one day, he would walk through the door of our childhood home. For two years, that’s what I did, and each passing day turned out to be a disappointment.
I stopped hoping when Henry got the paperwork stating Robert had signed over my guardianship to him. That’s when I knew my brother had walked away and wanted nothing to do with me.
He’s still alive, I know that much, but where he is and how his life is going is not something I keep up with. His trust fund hasbeen left untouched, and as far as I know, he hasn’t set foot in Chicago since the night he left.
If he were to come back today and apologize, would I forgive him? I have no idea. I want to say no, but that feels like an ‘in the moment’ type of thing.
I shouldn’t be going down the rabbit hole, which is my brother, so I go back to being present while Henry is scolding me.
“Lane Enterprises is doing fine without me in an executive role.” And it’s true—the company is doing fine. It doesn’t need me. The only reason I even go in, even if I spend most of my time in the mail room, is because it’s something Henry wants me to do.
“It might be, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be doing even better if you were there to help. If you had the backing of the company, there is no doubt in my mind you would have gotten that solar-powered car,” Henry tells me with all the sincerity he can muster.
The man does have a point.
If I had approached the deal for the car as Lane Enterprises and not as an individual, I would be planning the release right now. Instead, I walked into that meeting as kid with all the money in the world who just wants his hands on the next big thing. Sure, I have my own company, but it doesn’t have the same reputation. It doesn’t have close to seventy years to speak for.
