Page 49 of Hard Deal

“We need to talk,” he said, planting his hands on the back of the chair facing his father’s desk. The buttery-soft leather caved under his grip, clearly marking the indentations of his fingers.

“So talk.” Gerald looked up then, his expression impassive. If it was possible for the old man to say you’re wasting my time with a facial expression, then the message was coming through loud and clear.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Okay, so that wasn’t the question he’d planned on asking. But when the words slipped out, and the pressure in Caleb’s chest swelled and swelled until it pushed on his ribs and lungs and on his heart. Leaving wasn’t enough—anyone could resign. He wanted answers...and the truth.

He deserved it.

“You weren’t home.” Gerald’s ice-cold eyes stared right through him. “If we can’t rely on you to attend a dinner when you say you’re going to attend, then why should I go out of my way?”

“Because I’m your son. So what if I didn’t come to dinner? That pales in comparison to the fact that you have fucking cancer and didn’t tell me.” His hackles rose but he tightened his grip on the chair to give the tension a way out. Losing his cool in front of the old man would only shift the power balance away from him, and he couldn’t have that right now. “And it’s not like you ever seem to give a shit if I turn up to family things, anyway.”

Gerald put his Montblanc pen down with great effort, as though it seriously pained him to interrupt his work. “Is this because I named Jason my successor? I’m sorry, Caleb, but he is more qualified. I’ve been grooming him for years for this moment.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less what you do with this company anymore. But if you think this is about career jealousy then you’re deluded.” He sucked in a breath. “And you know even less about me than I thought.”

“I have no idea why I assumed you’d give a second thought to your career.” Gerald huffed. “I doubt that topic has ever risen above what car you’re going to buy next or what woman you’re going to take into your bed.”

The words stung like an open-palmed slap across his face. “What’s the point in caring about my career when the glass ceiling is barely an inch from the floor?”

“I’ve given you plenty of chances, Caleb.” The impassivity started to crack and crumble, giving way to a raw anger underneath that most definitely wasn’t something new. Old wounds were a bitch like that. “I gave you a job that, frankly, you were underqualified for. I then promoted you to try and give you some incentive to care. Nothing works with you.”

“You think making me feel like a charity case was motivating?” Caleb spat the words out. “You made it clear from the start that you thought I would fail. It felt more like a social experiment than a favour. Be honest with yourself—with me—you don’t want me here any more than I want to be here.”

“It’s no longer my problem.” Gerald stood and folded his arms across his barrel of a chest. “Jason will have to keep you in line now.”

“No, he won’t.” Caleb shook his head. “I’m done.”

“Really, Caleb. Don’t be melodramatic—”

“Dad, I quit.” He said it as calmly as he could. Because he wanted this move to be a positive step for him—proactive rather than reactive. And while he couldn’t deny that his dying relationship with his father had a lot to do with it, Caleb knew it was time. He’d never find his place here. “I’m giving notice right now. I’ll be out of the office intermittently to take interviews. Margot will help out during the transition, but I’ve told her it’ll be Jason’s decision as to who replaces me permanently.”

For once in Caleb’s almost thirty years of life, his father looked truly gobsmacked. Oh, they’d argued over Caleb leaving before. But deep down he’d never had any plans to pull the trigger and his father knew that.

But making a mess of things with Imogen had solidified something: he was done shortchanging himself. And that meant the old way of doing things—the false persona, the denial and living without committing to anything or anyone—was over. He was pissed off at how things had gone with Imogen, but mostly at himself. That would have to be dealt with later. For now, going out on his own was priority number one.

“And where are you going to work, huh?” Gerald cocked his head, but the scoffing tone had vanished. It struck Caleb, then, that him continuing to work for the family company had given Gerald the control he craved. It kept him in the position of power. And now, Caleb was taking that from him.

“I’ve got an interview with one of the banks and with a consulting firm.” He paused. “So far.”

“You’re not bluffing?”

“No.” Caleb shook his head. “I’ve got a resignation letter typed up but I wanted to do you the courtesy of telling you in person. Regardless of what issues we have, I do want to salvage our relationship and I think it’ll be better for everyone if I leave the company for a while.”

The muscles in his father’s jaw tightened. “For a while?”

“Until I’m the best marketing executive Australia has ever seen.” A smirk twitched on his lips. “I may come back then...if you can afford me.”

His father laughed, and the sound was loud, foreign and unanticipated. It eased the pressure in the room enough that Caleb could breathe easier.

“I know I’m hard on you.” Gerald swallowed. “It pains me to see you skate through life when you could be so much more.”

That was a first. Normally his dad would have stopped at the “you skate through life” bit, instead of adding an acknowledgement of potential. The thing was, he didn’t need to hear it anymore. Caleb knew he had it in him to do something productive with his life, and that was what mattered. Not everyone else’s opinion.

“Your brother was always easy, you know.” Gerald turned and let his gaze drift to the enormous window gleaming with the early-evening view of the city. “Slept well, ate whatever we put in front of him. Never had trouble in school.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He rolled his eyes.

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