Page 22 of Beauty and her Billionaire Beast
10
Knox
For the last two weeks, all I’ve done is work the business. I spend time in every department and at all major meetings, shadowing Pops and every senior VP throughout the firm. It’s been intense. I’ve learned more than my entire business degree, although much of it comes more naturally than I thought.Probably from all those years Pop dragged my ass with him to work as a kid. There were countless times he had made me sit in his office sofa after school and sometimes on weekends. He had to keep a close eye on me back then, on account of all the trouble that followedme.
So far, he hasn’t been all over my ass about my personal life, so that’ssomething.
Except that today, he summonedme to his house—my parents’ home—for a check-in meeting. I have nothing to worry about if our conversation is limited to Steele Industries. But if he plans to give me more bad news about his health, or to delve into setting me up with some random female socialite he approves of, I can’t see either scenario going well forme.
At this point, I can’t bring myself to object too strongly orgive him any hassle. The man is not well. The more I see him, the clearer it is. He just thinks he’s doing a damn good job of masking his failing health. Sure, most of his executives, colleagues and acquaintances are unaware of his situation, but he can’t fool me. No fucking way. I see the way he strains to sit upright in his corner office, and how he struggles with getting through the day when allalong, he was a workaholic, spending ten to fifteen hours a day on thejob.
I don’t want to face his mortality, but all this time around the office isn’t giving me much choice. And every evening when I walk through the door of my condo apartment, I’m gutted all overagain.
He may not be here next year. Or this Christmas. He won’t see me turn thirty, or walk down the aisle, or gazeinto the eyes of his great grandchildren, if there are any in the cards. I start to regret taking him for granted for every fucking milestone I hit before now. He was there for all of them. My first shave, high school graduation, going away to college, coming back with adegree.
And he’s been there for the fuckups too. That time I had to call him collect to bail me out of jail for breakinga guy’s nose at a bar, and the other times I got those drunk and disorderly charges after binging with Foster in my early twenties. The few lawsuits that came my way as a result of bad behavior, once the offending party realized my family’s net worth. He handled them all. He had our lawyers throw whatever money at those problems so that they’d go away. I can’t think of even once when he left meto handle my shit alone. I just kept on believing he’d always be there for me, which in hindsight, was awfully naïve of me, given the way I lost myparents.
I feel dampness in my eyes and force down the somber thoughts. When I walk in the door today, there’ll be none of this. As he can hold his own and be strong, then fuck, I cantoo.
After the long drive through rush hour traffic,I park at the end of the driveway and headinside.
“Pops,” I shout from the front door, and he hollers back from his smoking room. As I spot him sitting in his chair next to the fireplace, I smile. This man is a creature of habit, that’s for sure. He’s in that chair with a Cuban cigar in his fingers and a fire going whether it’s the middle of winter or as hot as an August lunchhour.
“Good to see you, son,” he answers, and puffs a few times on his Cohiba cigar. “How were theroads?”
“The usual,” I reply and take a seat in the leather sofa oppositehim.
“You should stay for a while, if you’re free. It’ll save you from sitting in another hour’s worth of gridlock for the drivehome.”
“Sure, whynot.”
He nods over at his wet bar. “Whiskey?”
I shake my head. “Maybe later,” I answer. My remaining sober is essential, as I have no idea why he asked me here. “So, where were you? I missed you at that financial risk meeting thisafternoon.”
“You’ve been so good at showing up that I figured you could handle it on your own.” He walked over to the bar and pours himself a drink. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve surprisedme, stepping up the way you have this past couple of weeks. Keep it up and you’ll be well on your way to impressing the board ofdirectors.”
“Do I detect a hint of pride somewhere in there?” Itease.
“I wouldn’t get too carried away. You’ve got a ways to go. But sure, you’ve restored my faith that there’s still hope for you, youngman.”
Even though I turned down his offerfor a drink, Pops walks over to the sofa with two glasses filled with amber liquid. He takes a seat beside me and hands me aglass.
I shift my body toward him and set the glass down on the coffee table in front of us. “Should I be bracing for more bad news, or are you gonna drop anotherultimatum?”
He flashes a one-sides smile. “Are those the only two options you can come up with?Is it so hard for you to believe that I might want you here to spend time with mygrandson?”
I’d feel bad if the creases at the sides of his eyes didn’t reveal so much levity. “You’re yanking my chain,Pops.”
He laughs and that deep rumble fills the room. “That’s how I know we’ve spent way too much time together. You have no business reading me so well,kid.”
“That’s how itgoes.” I shrug. “So, give it to me straight. What did you want to talkabout?”
He swirls the drink around in his glass, seeming to search for the right words. Then he looks me in the eye. “You’re joining me in the Hamptons this weekend,” he says, but it’s not a question. It’s astatement.
I nod, because well, I know how limited our time is. “I’ll bethere.”
“Good. The Harrisonsand my old friend, Earl and his wife, Jean are all coming. And the McCutcheons will be next door as usual, with their wholeclan.”
