Page 93 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares
“Have I taught you nothing?” Bracing his arms on the desk, he sat forward. “You must have something I want to negotiate. But I have something you want.”
No, he didn’t.
“If you claim Georgia in three weeks, I’ll give you a seat on the board after graduation.”
That got my attention. He made it perfectly clear when I was growing up that I would have to earn my way to the top of Kratz Enterprises. And now he was offering me a seat. He really was desperate for me to claim Georgia. But how desperate was he?
“I want controlling shares.”
“No,” he scoffed. “You’ll get a seat on the board, or nothing at all.”
If I turned this down, he wouldn’t make it easy for me to work my way up. My father was almost as spiteful as I was. I’d end up stuck in some cubicle until the day he died. Sure, I could kill him and take it all, but he was too smart for that.
There was no doubt in my mind that he had something in his will that denied me my inheritance should he die under suspicious circumstances. But if I had a seat on the board, I could start planning a hostile takeover.
“I want the brewery, too.” He didn’t care about the brewery. It was small and insignificant in his eyes, but I saw the potential in it.
“Alright,” he agreed. “You can have the brewery, when I have a grandson.”
Goddamnit, I should’ve seen that coming. A stronger next generation was the whole point behind the brides. The furtherment of our family line was his goal. It wasn’t mine. For as long as I could remember, I’d only ever had one end goal. Control of Kratz Enterprises. If knocking Georgia up got me closer to that, then so be it.
“Deal,” I said, holding out my hand.
He took my hand and looked me in the eyes. “The girl must be under your complete control, Issac. I won’t settle for anything less.”
“Fine,” I agreed.
Georgia Pyne better be ready, because she was about to find out just how ruthless I could be.
Georgia
All my life, I felt like an outsider observing the rest of humanity. I wasn’t the girl people noticed or thought about. I wasn’t even known as the smart girl. I wasn’t known at all. I was just there, like an ornament placed on the shelf and forgotten about, and that was okay with me because I didn’t need anyone’s acceptance. I was sure of myself.
Then I came to Renfrew.
Now, I wasn’t sure of anything. According to my grandma, college was supposed to be the place where I came into my own. Instead, I was more confused than I was during puberty.
I found myself questioning every response, in case I misled someone, wondering who Jerry was, why I hugged Levi, whether there really had been writing on my mirror, whether Rachel wanted something from me, and how much Ravi knew about unconformities.
It was hard enough to keep my own thoughts straight, let alone deal with everything else floating around my mind. And the most confusing thing of all was Issac Alexander Kratz. How did I know his middle name? Because I looked him up. Normally, I avoid social media and online gossip, yet last night I spent hours scouring the internet.
For a family that had so much influence, there was surprisingly little information available. All I got was Issac’s middle name, birthday, and some pictures of him at various events. That seemed odd to me. Everyone around the world knew Kratz Enterprises' name, so there should’ve been more to find.
At first, I thought maybe Issac’s family were private people—I didn’t have a presence online—but the results were the same for Levi, Slater, and Ravi. It was weird to say the least. Kash and his brothers were everywhere.
I couldn’t even finish typing Murphy into the search bar without one of their pictures popping up. Yet there was next to nothing on Levi, who was literal royalty. It didn’t make sense.
Then again, a lot didn’t make sense lately. Things like why a girl like Rachel insisted on being my friend, and how she talked me into going to a frat party.
“Okay…” Rachel stepped back, rolled her eyes down me and back up again. “This works, but it’s missing something.”
Yeah, more coverage. I could see my cleavage. Did she have to pick this shirt? The spaghetti straps and low-cut neckline made me feel exposed. So did the jeans Rachel brought over that somehow fit like a glove.
“Do you have high heels?”
Eww. “No.”
“Why not?” She asked as if my not having high heels were the most absurd thing she’d ever heard.
