Page 278 of One More Kiss

“Yeah, you probably could stand to get into his good graces,” Trace said, tossing his book on the lopsided coffee table.

“If I ask for his blessing, he’ll tell me no. Besides, posturing wouldn’t get me into his good graces. It just tells him his opinion matters, which it doesn’t.”

Silence stretched across the living room, the first sign my brothers didn’t agree with me. They’d developed this annoying habit over the years. When I’d rather they would come out and fight me about it, they let me simmer in my own doubts and discontent first.

I always cracked first. “What?”

Trace narrowed his eyes. “Bro, you need to posture for this one.”

“Why bother?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Damian shot back. The duh tone in his voice made me angle toward him.

“I don’t want to waste time asking for the blessing of a man who will barely sneeze in my direction. I thought you both understood that.”

“Yeah, we do,” Trace said with the type of cocky look that annoyed the fuck out of me, “but that was before you planned to marry his daughter. This guy could do a thousand different things to make your life harder, any day of the week. You could play by his rules for once and make your life a little easier.”

“Fuck his rules.” I squeezed the ring box again, as though testing it was still there. Testing that this dream of mine—make Cora my wife—was still alive.

“That’s what you always say,” Damian said.

“And I always mean it. Fuck his rules.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “You come out here asking if proposing is a bad idea and then get pissy when we tell you the truth.”

I blinked rapidly, turning so my entire body faced Damian. So I could pounce if needed. “Excuse me? Were you looking to get beaten up in the middle of your little coding assignment?”

Laughter escaped him, and he let his head fall back on the couch. “Jesus, Axel. Excuse me for answering your question.”

“You don’t have to be a fucking dick about it,” I shot back. Tension burbled in the air between the three of us while I mulled over their words. They had a point—one I didn’t want to admit out loud. So I followed up with, “So let’s say, in an alternate universe, you guys have a point.”

“In an alternate universe,” Trace repeated.

“I’d go meet up with him and what? Ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage? I’d feel like I’m about to board the Titanic or something.”

“You want to prove to him that you are not a bad idea,” Damian said. “Right? Well, how do you do that? You need to tell him what your direction is. What our direction is.”

“Yeah,” Trace added, “Tell him about our business. Make him feel like you’re not driving blind. Convince him your future is solid and that he can rest assured his daughter’s future is equally secure.”

“Show him the fucking business plan,” Damian added.

“The business plan?” It wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. I had four different iterations going with wildly varying projections. Trace and I couldn’t settle on the ideal profit margin. I shot for the stars, while he wanted to be conservative and shot for the tree line.

But I didn’t play like that. Not when my future was at stake. It was go big or go bury your fucking head in the sand. I didn’t particularly like the taste of sand in my teeth, so I knew where we were headed.

“We’ve got enough drawn up that we could start hunting for investors,” Trace said. “Even though we’re not finalized, I think we’re ready enough to prove that you’re serious.”

“I haven’t even started the LLC,” I told him. “This motherfucker will be the first to shoot me down because my paperwork isn’t in order.”

“It’s not like he’s gonna check your tax ID number,” Damian muttered.

“You don’t think he will? He probably runs a monthly background check on my ass just for fun.”

Trace shrugged. “You want to go to that pitch unprepared, then do it. But if this is how the CEO of Fairchild Enterprises works, then maybe we need to talk.”

“Oh my g—Trace. You are fucking ruthless.” I wasn’t sure if I was more upset or amazed by his boldness. Questioning my commitment to our business, right to my face. What an asshole. A brilliant asshole. “You’re gonna be the next one I pound into the couch.”

He looked pleased with himself. “Maybe I should be the CEO.”

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