Page 133 of For Cowgirls and Kings
“Sir,I just don’t see how this can be the right move for your family's business.”
I sigh, forcing the frustration that’s currently boiling through me to dissipate as I exhale, otherwise this guy is likely to find a stapler up his ass. If he mentions what’s best for my family's business, one more time, he’s going to find out I can be a violent man.
Which is a new, and not totally unwelcome, development to my personality. I’ve always been unmovable in my resolve, unshakable in my understanding nature. But ever since Dale packed her belongings, pulling every piece of her from the web of the life we were building, I realized being“calm”and“even tempered”was doing me no favors.
Not when the life I really want was walking out my front door.
So now I’m a little angrier, a little more determined, and a lot more passionate. I’d destroy anything that gets between me and what I want, and for the first time in my life, I don’t view that as a negative.So what, I want something different for myself?So I use my power and wealth to get it?
What’s the point of having those things if I don’t use them to make my life what I want it to be?I have one.One fucking life, and I’ll be damned if I have to live it without Dale.
“Sir, if you could just look at?—”
I lean forward with a growl, my eyes slicing to the plump, overly dressed man who my family’s trusted with their finances since my father was in charge. He doesn’t cringe or wither under my glare the way I’ve found many do, but instead raises a brow—a silent challenge. He knows his knowledge and experience is invaluable in the current state of my family's business.
What he doesn’t know is the world as he knows it is about to change.
“You’re fired,” I state, pushing up and out of the leather chair with a practiced grace even my dead father would be proud of. A man with a mission.
“Wh–what?” he stutters, his rounded cheeks flushing a deep burgundy.
“You are fired,” I parrot, buttoning my jacket and sweeping a hand over the gaudy fabric before pinning him with another glare. “I’ve told you more than enough times what I need done, and you’ve seen fit to stand against me. Which is your right as a human. But as the owner and operator of this company, it is my right to remove anyone who no longer fits the goals of our future, and you sir”—I point at his beet red face, bugging eyes included—“no longer fit the vision that is the future.”
“I’ve known you since you were in diapers, boy,” he booms, his voice rattling the pens neatly arranged on my desk. “I ran this company with your father!”
“Then you should know by now, Reyes men, and women,” I tack on, because my sister’s sneering face pops into my mind, “do not take kindly to people standing against them. The decision has already been made, I was only offering you the opportunity to move with the new direction, or find the exit.You chose. Now leave.” As the words fade off, an unfamiliar lightness settles on my shoulders. For the first time in…maybe forever,I don’t feel the weight of responsibility usually accompanied with duties and discussions regarding the family business.
My father’s no doubt rolling over in his grave, my grandpa beside him, but lucky for me, I can’t hear their displeasure. I only hear the hum of the air conditioning unit, and the ragged breaths of the man before me who looks fit to burst. I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, “Mark, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Have you discussed any of this with your sister?” he hisses, the threat clear as day.
I roll my eyes. “Not yet. When things are ready to proceed, she’ll be notified.” His face quivers, and I step around my desk, allowing my six plus additional inches to do some of the intimidating for me. “And I’ll remind you, you’re bound by contract, to remain confidential. That includes my sister. So if she finds out, and it was you who told her, I will sue you for everything you own. Do you understand me?”
His lips pull back in a silent snarl, but he doesn’t respond. Instead he whirls around and stomps toward the door without a backward glance.
Once he’s gone, I sink back onto my desk, letting the weight—or better, lack thereof—press into my shoulders. What I’m doing should feel wrong, or at the very least, scary, but it justdoesn’t.
The most I feel is guilt. Guilt for all the people who work for and rely on this company. But they wouldn’t build their lives around me, and even if it makes me selfish-as-fuck, I no longer plan to build it around them.
“What was that about?”
My head shoots up at the sound of McCrae’s voice, followed by the click of the door.Fuck.I haven’t seen or spoken toMcCrae since Gus’s wedding, and I’d hoped to keep it that way indefinitely. He’s been gone mostly, which made it easier, but now that I’m looking at him, I wonder if I should have questioned where he was all this time?
His hair’s shorter—shorter than I’ve ever seen it—still shaggy on the top, but cropped close above his ears and over his neck. His facial hair is neater too, blonde trim hair over his lip and chin in the type of beard a man like me could only wish for. Like he just regrew it out this morning, providing that perfect shadow and definition to an otherwise sharp face. Tattoos—either new or previously hidden by hair—crop up all over the skin of his neck and the side of his head, and I wonder what purpose they serve at this point? Is it memories or recognition? Honor?Pain?
“I had to let him go,” I state, deciding being as close to the truth as I can be is the best bet. Especially with the way his eyes always seem to be looking one or two layers deeper than I feel comfortable with. His eyebrow raises, and I notice a silver scar intersecting his top lip. It looks old and faded, but I’ve never noticed it before.
“The guy who keeps literally all the finance shit together?”
“Yep, that one,” I huff, turning away from him. I’m not ready for V to know my plans, and I have no illusion McCrae will keep my secret from her, contract or not.
“Excited to hear about your plans.”
“What do you want, McCrae?” I sink back into my chair, bracing myself forwhatever this is, even though I’d rather be headed back to my house at this point. I have so much that still needs done there too.
“Just checking in with my boss,” he states dryly, seating himself in the chair opposite of me.
“Since when?”
