Page 7 of Kyle
And the fact that she had done so much for him, stood up for him, stood by him, made him feel ashamed that he could not do the same for her. Ingrid stopped mid-pace, her breath coming hard, as the full weight of her brother's words settled over her.
The idea was reckless, terrifying, but it ignited a spark in her. It was a reminder that she still had agency, that she could seize control of her own destiny if she found the courage to step outside the rigid expectations imposed upon her.
For a fleeting moment, uncertainty warred with determination in her eyes, but the thought of reclaiming her life, her choices, wouldn't let go. Then reality reared its ugly head. She loved the company.
It was her home. She enjoyed the challenges of finding the right derelict building and turning it into something spectacular. She had a vision inside her head.
They had branched out from the ordinary into the fabulous, and she loved that she was part and parcel of all of it. Walking over to the single sofa, she sank down and closed her eyes in defeat.
"I can't leave." She whispered. "Both of them knew that I would never leave the company. It's my home away from home. I helped to build something wonderful. Each time I pass one of our buildings, I stop to admire and critique. And make notes of what more we could offer. I love the challenge of dreaming up designs no one else ever thought of."
Leaning back, she stared up at the swirls and enchanting dips and patterns of the ceiling.
"I guess you're getting married."
Lifting her head, she stared at him.
"I guess I am. He might not agree." She shrugged. "At this very moment, Kyle McCreary is making his reluctance felt. He's involved with some actress. The papers say it's serious.Whatever the hell that means. So, he might not want to go through with it."
Snorting contemptuously, Matthew went over to the cabinet to pour himself some more scotch and thanked God that he was as far away from the politics of big business as he could be. His grandfather, his father, and even his mother who had adored him when he was growing up had little or no time for him, and he preferred it that way.
If it wasn't for his sister, he would have cut all ties with them a long time ago. But he loved her and would never abandon her. No matter what.
"He'll fall in line." He predicted bitterly. "He won't have a choice."
*****
Inside the manor, Kyle was waging his own bitter war. The two elderly men had wreaked their havoc and left for a dinner engagement without blinking an eye or giving thought to what they had started.
It never occurred to them that their wishes or demands would not be met. Their words had always been law, and that was that.
"You just stood there and said nothing." Kyle roamed the large den like a caged tiger.
His father sat behind the desk, a slender cigar clamped between his teeth as he watched his son.
"What did you expect me to do?"
Kyle whirled to face him.
"Stand up to him. Stand up for me, for once in your life." He had to tamp down the rage. He was so furious, it was bringing tears to his eyes. "He humiliated Jessica, hinting at her inability to conceive, and you let him." His hands fisted. "I'm involved with someone, and it's getting serious. What do I say to Carly? 'Oh, please forgive me, but my grandfather and a complete stranger have decided my destiny?'"
He crossed to the window to stare out at the encroaching darkness. He was too irate to see the pretty moon illuminating the rose petals or even appreciate the varying colors of the leaves beneath the trees.
He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, trying to calm the storm raging in his chest. The weight of family expectations felt suffocating, yet defiance simmered just beneath the surface.
Kyle knew the cost of rebellion, but for the first time, he wondered if it might be worth paying, if only to reclaim a shred of his autonomy. The silence between father and son stretched, thick with things unsaid, as Kyle grappled with the reality that his life was being bartered like a business deal, his happiness a mere footnote in someone else's agenda.
"I will not marry her." He spoke almost to himself. "I can't. Jesus! I cannot even stand the woman. She gets on my last nerves. We argue in meetings. We barely tolerate each other, and this is the woman they want me to marry!"
The very idea of it made him want to smash something.
"What's the alternative?" His father's mild tone had him whirling around.
"You don't give a damn, do you?"
"I fail to see what the fuss is all about. I happen to think Ingrid is a very lovely young woman."
"Then you marry her," he suggested rudely.
