Page 49 of Beautiful Beast

The press hasn’t photographed me since before Syria, and rumors are already running rampant. People are speculating that I’ve been in a terrible accident, that I’m addicted to drugs, that I’ve gained massive amounts of weight, or that I’m guilty of a terrible crime.

Security keeps them far away from my building, but I’m not in New York anymore.

My face is bandaged and all I’m doing is going back and forth between work and the hotel in a limo, but I won’t be surprised if they somehow catch me and scream vile questions.

And the rumor mill is only going to get worse now that I’m having contact with outsiders who I don’t know or trust.

It would be nice to assume my own team wouldn’t sell stories about me or try to sneak pictures of me, but no doubt some enterprising person will.

I’m also getting tired of the stares.

No one has dared to ask me what happened yet and hopefully they won’t.

How I look is one thing, but the way my mind trips and sends me back to the desert when I’m really in a boardroom is quite another.

I need to get myself under control because gapping out a few times may be ignored – people will likely assume I’m deep in thought – but it can’t indefinitely continue.

“What do you think, Adam?”

We’re sitting around a mahogany conference table with one of the most beautiful skylines in the world just outside the huge windows. The government limited the height of buildings in the city, so the mountain range backdrop is always visible, and it’s such a stunning panorama.

I’m not surprised that my uncle is kicking another ball my way. Not only is he trying to establish my expertise on the team, but he’s also exhausted. This trip is taking a lot out of him, another reason that I wish we had just stayed home.

I’d rather learn the business on the fly without a guide than tax him during his final days.

There’s nothing that can’t be done over video conference, but Uncle Dennis insisted that I needed some in-person team building. He regularly tells me that he’s exactly where he wants to be and that he wants to stay busy and keep his mind occupied.

“It’s not just a compensation issue, though that’s a big part of it,” I say, immediately picking up on the thread. “Fundamentally, this organization has a culture problem. Combined with a lackluster benefits package, it’s not really a surprise that turnover rates are so high and client satisfaction is so low.”

They’re expanding at a rapid rate that their internal infrastructure isn’t ready to handle. Uncle Dennis was right and it’s a good thing we came here in person.

It’s just the goddamn timing.

“What do you suggest we do?” one of the female executives asks me. Her expression can only be called lewd, and she licks her overly plump lips that scream “fillers!” She either wants to devour me or find out what’s wrong with my face so she can get rich selling the story.

Maybe both.

Not that I care either way. Traveling was a risk, but I’ll be outed sooner or later anyway. And as for entertaining female company outside of Belle, I’m just not interested. Belle is the only woman on my mind, and I’m really looking forward to getting home to her.

And, okay, fine, fucking her.

“A robust marketing and communication plan showcasing the vision and values of the new leadership team is crucial, and we also need a total overhaul of the customer lifecycle and onboarding processes. To be perfectly frank, they’re both brutal.”

I’m met with stares all around the table, some friendly, some hostile, and some indifferent. Whenever a new leader comes in, there’s a period of uncertainty while people wait to find out if he’s an idiot or going to restructure them out of a job.

I shouldn’t have to prove myself when I own this company, but that’s exactly the vibe I’m getting. And it will be an uphill battle.

Not looking like a typical executive also isn’t working to my advantage. People appear shocked whenever I say something halfway intelligent, and I’m sure the tattoos that are impossible to hide and my partially covered face aren’t helping.

Maybe botched plastic surgery rumors will be next.

Despite being Harvard educated, the masses tend to believe what’s in the newspapers, and I’ve always been made out to be a rich playboy rather than someone with anything of value to add to society.

This entire charade is ridiculous, and I’m quickly losing patience. I should have just built my own empire from the ground up rather than inheriting a bunch of problem children.

I’d rather be home with Belle and Buster.

The thought has crossed my mind countless times, and I can’t believe how badly that girl and her furry companion have gotten under my skin. I’ve only been away for two weeks, and her daily after-work call has become the best part of my day.

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