Page 13 of For the Gods' Sake

He shook his head. “I’m stopping by between meetings.”

Of course, he was, I thought to myself.

“No worries,” I said instead. “What’s going on?”

My father leaned against the marble counter top, not even bothering to take a seat. “I wanted to make sure you were attending the Borghese Gala Sunday night.”

I let out a little sound under my breath that I hoped he didn’t catch on to. There was something so classic about his phrasing.I wanted to make sureleft no room for disagreement. The proper assumption is that I was doing my duty and going.

“Yes, I am.” I left it at that. I was going anyway, becausethree of the member organizations putting on that gala were charities I sat on the board of, but I’d let him believe I was doing it simply because it pleased him if it took some weight off my shoulders.

“Good,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Since your mother and I will not be able to attend, I'm sure you understand the importance of representing the family appropriately.”

“Do I ever,” I said, my tone verging on the wrong side of sarcastic.

Thankfully, my father pushed forward. “There are some business partners you need to make time for.”

Again, with the phrasing. A demand, not a question. “New ventures or old partners?”

A flicker of pride washed across his tanned face. My father was aging well. The Mediterranean sun was harsh, but his skin was only lightly wrinkled, his hair carrying a somewhat fashionable number of gray streaks. “A mix of both. You’ll need to impress them,Reyna. Especially in preparation for my retirement.”

This time, my scoff was audible. He had absolutely zero plans of retiring anytime soon. Unless my mother absolutely demanded it. “You’re not retiring.”

“I will eventually.”

“Well, then,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm. “I haven’t changed my mind. I have no intention of taking over for you. I will handle all charitable or academic ventures, but not business.”

This was the same conversation we’d had countless times.

My father’s expression dropped into a hard line. “Don’t be—”

“I’m going to cut you off before you sayridiculous.” This was entirely reasonable. And I’d gotten better at not letting him steamroll me.

“Fine,” my father responded through clenched teeth. “Let’s call it rash.”

“Rash?” My voice was tinged with a laugh. “It’s been three years of this, Dad. You won’t change your mind and I’ve caved on more than I ever intended to.”

“Excuse me if I'm hesistant to change successful business practices because you think it'snicer.”

My anger had jumped from a simmer to a full-fledged boil. “That is a mis-characterization of my position, and you know it. If you insist on keeping with your business practices, that pay you an exorbitant amount of money that youdo not need, at the cost of your lowest-level worker, then I refuse to help perpetuate that.”

He’d put it in his will and the stipulations of his successor-ship that certain business practices could not be changed. Including policies that kept his salary and those of his top employees, which were often hisfriends, far wealthier than they needed to be.

He didn’t run a completely exploitative business, but there were real changes, no matter how small on paper, that I thought needed to be implemented. And until he let me do so, I wasn’t sitting in his chair and letting my name get tied to those problems.

My father pushed off the counter, standing fully upright. “Reyna,” he said in a voice that was full of fatherly authority. “You realize I’ll have no choice but to elect your brother in my place if you don’t accept.”

“Well aware, Dad.” Leonardo wouldn’t change anything one way or another. It would just be my father in a younger body. Leonardo was older, too. But my father had this idea in his head that I was better suited for the role.

My father’s eyes, the same color as my own, flashed a deeper shade of brown. “I’m not changing my mind on this. No matter how disappointed I may be that this trivial debate has carried on for as long as it has, youwillbe my successor.”

The reminder of his stubbornness, and what I’d agreed to in order to combat it, was perfectly timed with his eyes dropping to my counter top, right where Adrian’s flowers were displayed.

Before I could even respond to his statement, he said, “Who brought the flowers?”

I wasn’t ready to tell him about Adrian yet. Not until I was sure we knew what this arrangement entailed. “Someone I’m seeing.”

“He treating you well?” My father’s voice carried so much protectiveness, my resolve faltered an inch. He was a good man at heart, he was just distracted by money and power. Which decided to rear its ugly headwhen I nodded and he added, “Good. I’m sure you understand the importance of choosing a partner that reflects positively on this family.”

---