Page 13 of Cross My Heart

My older brother, Edward, was the one who would make them all proud. And God, he did. He was the golden boy: intelligent, kind, a natural-born leader, even back when we were kids. My parents doted on him, and I didn’t even hold it against him for being their obvious favorite, not when it got me off the hook of familial responsibility.

Not when Edward himself would wink, and say I got the easy job – chasing pleasure instead of glory. He was even happy to follow in our father’s footsteps: studying medicine at university, ready to take his place at the head of Ashford Pharmaceuticals, the world-leading corporation my father (and his father, and his father) built. But, of course, he insisted on taking a year out to volunteer for Doctors Without Borders before he took his seat in the boardroom. He wanted to do some good in the world. Give back.

He was a good man. A better man than me in every way.

Even ‘til his last breath.

Maybe that’s why I don’t even try to be good anymore. Nothing I do will ever live up to his shining legacy.

Nothing I do will make up for the fact it should have been him carrying on the famous St. Clair name.

Not me.

The Ashford Pharmaheadquarters are in Central London, a towering chrome and glass monstrosity bragging our status to the world. I don’t come here often. In fact, I try to avoid it as much as possible, but the doormen and security still know me on sight, and leap to open doors and show me up to the executive level, high above the city.

“Tricia,” I greet my father’s ancient secretary with a charming smile. “You’re looking lovely today. Is that a new hairdo?”

She gives me a tremulous smile. “Saint. You can go straight through.”

I pause. “Everything alright?”

She swallows. “Oh, you know. Things are a little hectic right now, that’s all.”

I look around. She’s right. The company is never fun and games, but everyone’s looking more stressed than ever, and there’s a buzz of frantic activity in the air.

But damned if I want to know what’s going on. I’m not a part of running Ashford Pharma, by choice, and I’d like to keep it that way.

I saunter into my father’s office without knocking.

“You took your time,” my father barely glances up from his computer screen.

“Lovely to see you too, dad,” I reply, relaxing into one of the oversized armchairs that look out over the stunning city view as I settle in to wait.

And wait.

I stifle a sigh. Clearly, he needs to show how important he is, so I pull out my phone and idly scroll through my messages and schedule—checking when Ms. Tessa Peterson is due in my office again. Not until next week, I’m sorry to see. But I’m sure I can find a way to engineer another meeting sooner...

Finally, my father looks up, and removes his reading glasses, regarding me with the same expression of disappointment that he’s given me for the past ten years. “I hear you’ve been having fun,” he says, disapproving. “That business in Paris last month, with the Vanderbilt girl… It was all over the papers. Hardly discreet.”

“What’s the matter, dad?” I ask, acting casual. “You used to love hearing about my wild conquests.”

He scowls back at me. “You’re a grown man, Anthony. It’s time you acted your age and started giving a damn about this family. This company.”

But it’s not my age that’s the problem. We both know what really changed. My reckless adventures were all fun and games to him before Edward died, just something to brag about with his aristocratic friends, the grand adventures of his wayward second-born son.

Until I was suddenly heir to it all, and nobody was joking anymore.

“This nonsense at Oxford has gone on long enough,” my father continues. “That’s why I’m making arrangements for you to join us. Something in acquisitions or marketing, let you get your feet wet. Learn the ropes before you need to step into a larger role.”

I fold my arms. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion, son.”

“I didn’t think it was,father,” I echo, holding his gaze. “But why bother pretending like either one of us wants me here? You have Robert, trailing your every move,” I add, naming my younger brother. The baby of the family, he just turned twenty-five, and is still fresh-faced and eager to prove himself. “Let him handle things.”

“You think I don’t want to?” my father scowls. “But unfortunately for the both of us, that’s not how entailment works. You’re the oldest. That means that you’re the future of the Ashford dynasty—and I would prefer you didn’t bring it into any further disrepute with your…activities.”

I smirk, knowing it’ll only piss him off more. “I’m discreet,” I say. “Well, most of the time. It’s not my fault the Vanderbilt girl has a thing for personal movies…”

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