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She shakes her head and picks up the unopened envelope. “Not pointless. History. Your history. Read the letter, Magnus. Selfish doesn’t suit you.”
“Me not wanting to be a part of this crap isn’t selfish.”
“It is when it affects your brothers.” She hesitates, then says, “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but the Sinclair family business is important to your brothers.”
I sigh, aware she’s trying to manipulate me. “Hudson told me the terms, Ma.” She winces at the term. “But I’m not playing.”
“To keep the family business is more than money, Edward Magnus Sinclair.”
My full fucking name. She likes to play hardball. Anyone who thought my father was the tough one didn’t know this woman. “What’s it to you, Faye?”
Her eyes narrow. “I remained close to your father after the divorce, and you’re my child. It matters. To lose your heritage…do you want that?”
Me? I’m building my own, but I do love my brothers, and I know what this means to them. Well, Ryder and Hudson. Even, I guess, Kingston, although with him, it’s about the monetary value and what the family name brings. Still, I know what the woman is doing. “I’m not into manipulation, and I’m not getting married to suit some bizarre whim of a dead man.”
My mother opens the letter and smooths it out. “There’s a twelve-month period. And today is the start of your four weeks to fulfill your part. If you don’t, then all of you lose your claim over the family business. Out of private and into public hands. It will be lost forever.”
Fuck. I don’t want to be the one who is the catalyst for that. But I don’t say anything, because I know she’s not finished.
“Magnus, to get your piece of the Sinclair jewels, the earrings—”
“They don’t go with my aesthetic.”
She ignores me. “You’re headstrong, driven, more than your brothers. You never seem to care about anything apart from your goals and bottom line, Magnus.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I swing my feet on my desk, tapping my fingers against my thigh. I almost say at least I’m not a cynic like Kingston, but I doubt she’d see the difference between ambition and cynicism. “Fine. I’ll get to it when I have a chance.”
My mother’s lips press together and the look she gives me makes me feel about five. “This isn’t about marrying for love like Hudson. This is proving there’s more than the hardness. More than building your fortune, which, if you ask me—”
“I don’t.”
“—you have more than enough of.”
“Noted,” I say.
“You need to prove you have heart.”
“So I’ll donate money. Put up a plaque. Adopt a fucking puppy.”
Her eyes harden at my language.
“A three-legged puppy with a sad history.”
Now her eyes narrow. “It’s more than that. You need to prove you care, Hudson, truly care, about something more than money. And you have four weeks. From your birthday.”
“Yeah, well—”
“That’s today.”
I give her a startled look. And almost laugh. I don’t know why I forgot. That’s why my brothers called earlier. I haven’t had time to call them back. I wouldn’t have taken my mother’s call, and she knows it, so that’s why she’s here in person. “Birthdays are for children.”
“Everyone, dear,” she says, her mouth quirking a little, even though the worried light remains in her eyes, dark like mine. “Not even your ruthless attitude can stop the years passing. Do this. And remember, you’ll need to prove you’ve changed.”
She stands and places the letter on the desk, then reaches into her bag and pulls out a small package. “Happy birthday.”
She leaves and I glower down at the letter. Yeah, happy fucking birthday to me.
I’ll deal with this shit later. Instead, I push the letter and the wrapped package to one side and drop my feet back to the floor. Then I grab my phone.
