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“And let me guess: You think a beautiful woman can’t work for Moore’s unless she’s on the sales floor. Convincing customers they can either be her or have her if they just buy what she’s selling.” His facial expression tells me I’m right in my assessment. “Is it truly beyond your comprehension that women can be as good as, hell, better than, men when it comes to business?”
“Please,” he scoffs. “Any woman worth her salt knows her place. And it’s sure as shit not in the executive offices of my company.”
Her place. I roll my eyes. My optic muscles are always under threat of strain when dealing with Stan. “Do you really think that? Because you only got a foothold in Moore’s boardroom door because you married Mom.” I pause, thinking over our last family lunch. “Maybe that’s why Mother hits the bottle when you’re around. Sad that this is where you’ve taken her legacy.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “Shut it.”
I throw him a smirk I know will annoy him before sitting down and kicking my heels up on the desk again. His desk. “Besides being unbearably rude and sexist, was there something you wanted?” I really shouldn’t have given George the morning off to go to the eye doctor. My administrative assistant could’ve squinted a bit longer. Clear eyesight is overrated, anyway. Especially when it means he isn’t here to act as a barrier to my father just waltzing in like this.
He glares at my feet a moment before throwing me a smirk of his own. Anything even resembling a smile on the man is quite unnerving.
“You want to throw your weight around like a toddler with a tantrum, fine.” He extends his hands out to his sides. “Go ahead. Fire those men.”
“Thanks for permission to do something I’ve already done, Stan.”
The would-be smile leaves his face, but his eyes continue to gleam.
I’m instantly alert. “What have you done, old man?”
“Me? I’ve done nothing. But you, with all your rash decisions, you could be responsible for your poor, dear sister becoming… well, destitute.”
I put my feet down and lean forward over the desk. No use pretending he doesn’t have my attention. It’s a well-known fact I’ve always favored my sister. I glance at the family portrait, now cracked, on the desk. We may be further apart in years than Thomas and myself, but as soon as she was born, I hovered over her, protecting her at an early age against the coldness of our father and the easily bowed backbone of our mother. “Explain.”
“I just got to thinking this morning, after all those phone calls from my colleagues.”
I hold back a snort. Colleagues would imply my father had actually worked alongside them. My father has never sullied his hands with work.
He continues, “You may have the majority of shares held hostage at the moment, but I have something even better.”
The smile returns to his face, and it’s downright frightening. I’m not sure if it’s the awkwardness of his facial muscles attempting something they’ve rarely done, or if the man is truly evil, but I swear to god, goosebumps dance along my arms at the sight of it.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, Daddy-o, what is it you think you have that’s better than our shares?”
“Money.”
“Really, Stan? Money? Is that even a threat? Everyone in this family has money, even Liz.”
“No, not Liz. Not her own, anyway. Every dime she spends she gets from me.”
I still for a second before feigning nonchalance. But it’s too late. The old man caught my reaction. His grotesque smile widens.
“So?” But I know. I know what he’s about to say. I’m not an idiot. I made sure as soon as I took over to look into the laws regarding the shares. And what can and can’t be done with them if Moore’s is sold at a loss. I saw the loophole he could exploit if he wanted to. And for some reason, even after a whole lifetime of him disappointing me, I’m still hoping he won’t stoop that low.
“Liz is only twenty-three. She can vote, as she did in your favor to take over the company, but she doesn’t control her money or her shares in the event of a sale before she’s twenty-five.” He pauses for effect. “I do.”
And that’s it. That’s the last shred of hope that my father isn’t a complete dillweed, up in smoke.
“So… if you fuck this up, boy, not only am I taking your shares, as per our deal, I’m cutting your sister off as well.”
A sigh of disappointment escapes me. “You really are one horrendous excuse for a father, you know that?”
Something flashes in his eyes, and that shred of hope wants to forge itself back to life again. But then my father scoffs, and the hope is gone for good. “Legacy and business are what matter. Your problem—well, yours and Liz’s—is that you’re too caught up in feelings.”
I wonder, not for the first time, what the hell happened to this man to make him the way he is. But I shove the disquieting thoughts aside. “Well, as lovely as your threat is, it isn’t much of one. Remember, I can take care of Liz.”
“Can you?” He rocks back on his heels. A little too carefree for my liking. “If you let your dick get in the way, like you did with your pornographic app, you won’t be making any money at Moore’s.” He chuckles at my expression. “You didn’t think I knew you let your previous business go tits up because of a woman?” He waves his hand in the air. “It may have been porn, but at least it was profitable. And then you let your delicate feelings get in the way, walking away with not even a quarter of its worth.” He sneers. “Who cares who the bitch slept with?”
Honestly, this is a side of my father I’ve never seen. I hadn’t thought it possible to dislike the man more than I already did. “You are one cold bastard, Stan. But that isn’t anything new.” I walk around the desk, closer to the man I share blood with. “But I will take care of Liz. Always. Even if you’re not man enough for the job.”
