Inevitable Inheritance: The Inevitable Series | Book One

by Charest, Kade

  At noon he called Taylor, but she was headed out to a lunch meeting. “It will be fine, Derrick. Just clear the air, and then you can move on,” she said, and he knew she spoke from experience.

  “Okay, you’re right. I love you,” he said.

  “Um, yup. Good luck,” she said and then quickly hung up.

  Derrick puffed his lips out as he tried to release some of his tension and stared at the phone. She would say it when she was ready, when she felt it for certain, he assured himself. Derrick was confident that she loved him when they got married. He knew she had to have felt something, or she wouldn’t have gone through with it. But the longer it went with the one-sided I love you’s, the more it made him wonder if perhaps he was wrong.

  He busied himself with paperwork that needed reviewing. He had purposefully avoided everyone all day, afraid he would beg for forgiveness from every person. Though he gave off the bad-boy persona, he really didn’t want to let anyone down or make them think he didn’t care, because he did. It was never about just money for him. Before he knew it, his assistant, Claire, was getting him for the meeting.

  “Mr. Fletcher,” his phone buzzed, “time for your meeting.”

  He nodded to the phone.

  “Mr. Fletcher?” she asked, and Derrick realized that she couldn’t see him.

  “Uh, okay. Thanks, Claire,”

  She was the only person he had apologized to so far, but she had just patted his arm and said, “I get it, Mr. Fletcher, you are under a lot.” He appreciated her understanding, but she had known him better than most of the company because she had worked with him the last two years.

  Derrick rose and made his way out of his inner office. The meeting was being held in the amphitheater, a ridiculously large room that took up an entire floor of Fletcher Enterprises and was used for large meetings. It had been put in by his dad, but Derrick was sure he had never had to use it for this sort of reason.

  He made his way to the elevators and focused on his cufflinks, making sure they hadn’t come undone, and of course they hadn’t. It seemed like something silly that men did, like women checked their hair to distract themselves from what was really going on. He just wanted to busy himself and not think about what he needed to do.

  When the doors closed, Derrick saw himself in the shiny elevator doors. It was just him, manning up to what he needed to do. Some of the board members had called and talked to Claire, trying to figure out what this was about and then to ask if Derrick wanted them to go with him. But he wanted to face this alone.

  He looked at his reflection and met his own eyes. You can do this, he coached himself silently, but deep down he wasn’t sure he could. This was something bigger than he had ever handled. What if he failed? He saw his confidence waiver in his eyes, and suddenly when the doors opened to the sixteenth floor, he was locked into a bright-blue stare.

  Taylor.

  She stood before Derrick and smiled at him. Derrick suddenly felt ten feet tall, like he could take on the world. He wanted to sag with relief at the sight of her, but instead he grabbed Taylor’s outstretched hand, confidently walked out of the elevator, and took her into a tight hug.

  “I am so glad you are here,” he whispered in her ear and kissed her just below it.

  “Where else would I be?” she asked, laughing a little.

  Derrick leaned back and just took in her face, feeling the tension leave him. Taylor was here, and all was right in the world.

  “Come on, boss man,” Taylor whispered, and together they walked to the door that led behind a stage area to face the amphitheater.

  An IT guy came over with a microphone to clip onto Derrick, and he looked wary about it. Geez, it appeared his temper tantrum had been made known to every department. “Thanks, man,” Derrick said, and he saw the guy relax and look up with a small smile.

  “No problem, Mr. Fletcher,” he said and quickly patted his arm.

  Time to face the fire. With one last deep breath, Derrick messaged his feet to move him forward.

  The noise of a general assembly surrounded Derrick as he walked out onto the stage in front of the milling crowds, and it quickly grew silent as he came into view.

  He felt like an improv actor, with just a table and some water on the stage before him. His heart hammered, and he took a swig from the glass there, wishing for something stronger but was also grateful for the distraction.

  Derrick turned to the direction he had come from and caught sight of Taylor, who stuck her tongue out at him. It made him smile and gave him the oomph he needed to actually speak to the waiting masses.

  Derrick cleared his throat and swallowed. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you so much for clearing your schedules today,” he said to dead silence. Well, that was easy. Now what? He had tried to get his thoughts together before he came out, but it made him too nervous, so he figured he would just rattle something off.

  Now he had no idea what to say.

  He turned to Taylor, and she patted her chest with her hand. Right, talk from the heart.

  Blowing out a breath, Derrick dug deep.

  “I miss my dad,” he said because this was the truth. “I was not ready for him to go. He knew how to do everything, talk to everyone, be efficient and compassionate, and get it all done completely cool-headed.” Derrick started pacing a little on the stage. The thoughts were just coming to him, and he was going to just let it all out. “I obviously did not get the ‘cool-headed’ gene,” he said.

  There were a few chuckles from the crowd.

  Heaving out a breath, he went on. “I was an asshole yesterday,” he admitted, throwing his hands up. “There is no other delicate or better way to say this. I was snappy, irritable, rude, and condescending. I did not try to be. In fact, I did not realize that was how I was behaving until my very beautiful and smart wife pointed this out to me,” he said, smiling. This was met with diffused laughter, like everyone was relaxing as he spilled his guts. “I am quickly learning that she is the smartest person alive, and that I need to listen to her,” he explained. “In fact, she picked out this tie, and it is now my favorite.” Now everyone was laughing. Derrick slid his gaze to Taylor, and she gave him a smile and an eye roll.

  “So, this is me apologizing to all of you. To everyone who felt my bad attitude and temper and unease. I may not have spoken to each of you, but I am sure that it rippled into everyone’s day. Again, as my beautiful wife reminded me, I am not the only one missing my dad. You were all an extension of our family, and this isn’t easy for any of us.” Derrick’s voice wavered, and he was tearing up. He took a drink, but it didn’t help. He wanted to finish this strong, not like the puddle of tears he was about to become.

  And then his hand was filled with something soft and small: Taylor’s hand. He looked over, and she was there with him on the stage and smiling at him. He could do this. He smiled at her. His Taylor.

  “It sucks,” he informed the crowd. “But we are going to move forward and move on. He is with us, all of us, each and every day. And he knows we can do this, we can continue on with the Fletcher Enterprise vision. And we are all here to support each other, and we know that he is in a better place. We are better for having had him in our lives for the time we did.

  “Thank you all for all you do. Thank you for still coming to work today despite my behavior yesterday. And thank you for just, yeah, being you.”

  Thunderous applause met Derrick as his last words rang out.

  “Now get back to work,” he said with a smile, and again everyone laughed.

  As the applause continued, Derrick, held tight to Taylor’s hand and walked off the stage. He hugged her just as they were out of sight. How had he done anything when she had not been in his life? Had he even really been alive? How had he functioned, moved forward? He couldn’t think about that now, though, all he could do was melt against her.

  “That was perfect, Derrick,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Thank you. Thank you for being here, I don�
�t know if I could have, I just, I—” he was fumbling his words.

  “I’m here for you, Derrick,” she told him. “We are a team.”

  Derrick kept ahold of her, afraid that she was a dream, that this whole thing was a crazy dream. They were going to move forward together and help each other. He and Taylor.

  His life was complete.

  * * *

  It wasn’t until that evening that Derrick realized he had forgotten to ask one very important thing for his meeting: to request no phones or recording devices be used. It was a Fletcher Enterprises policy that they not be at meetings, but as he was reminded by the lawyers and his adviser, Arthur, whom he had inherited from his father, in today’s world you had to remind people.

  His company speech had gone viral from some grainy phone video. Every moment had been captured, from his coming on stage, to Taylor watching him, even after when he was hugging Taylor was captured, because of whatever angle the person had videoed it from, they had a side-show view.

  Derrick had his team immediately launched injunctions to try and stop the video from being aired, but it was too late. It had been all over the Internet, YouTube, and every media outlet worldwide. Derrick was positive he was going to look like a shmuck, a soft businessman. Arthur had also feared it would look bad.

  But they were wrong.

  Profit margins and stocks for his and Taylor’s company had soared. Todd and Charlie were like giddy schoolgirls about how Derrick’s apology had benefited the company. Taylor had sent Derrick a video of them in her office practically jumping up and down as they watched the stock market skyrocket in favor of Preston Corp.

  But the video had also only caused more media attention, and Henry made Taylor call it an early day to get her out of the office. Both she and Derrick’s security had been working overtime to keep the new paparazzi demand out of their buildings.

  “I have stuff to do here,” Taylor had argued with Derrick over the phone. “Why is it so unsafe for me but not for you?”

  Derrick rolled his eyes. “Because I am used to it and you aren’t, Taylor,” he reminded her. “We just want—”

  “To keep me safe, like a fucking delicate rose!” Taylor shouted back to him.

  “Oh yeah, you sound real delicate right now,” Derrick told her.

  “Listen, I am sick of being treated like I am going to break. I am in charge of running a damn industry—I think I can handle some people taking my freaking picture!”

  “It isn’t just that, Taylor, they—”

  “I have had enough of this. My redheaded handler/babysitter is about to blow a major vessel if I don’t leave now.”

  He could tell she was pissed. “Okay well I will meet you at home.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “I lo—” but Taylor hung up before he could finish.

  Here it was, their first marital dispute. Derrick placed the phone in its cradle and rubbed his forehead. How did one handle this event? Flowers? Jewelry? Well, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong, had he?

  Claire poked her head in as Derrick thought over his predicament. “Mr. Fletcher, I’m going to be heading out now.”

  Derrick nodded at her. “Uh, Claire, I wanted to get something for Taylor. Her day has been, uh, not what she wanted—”

  “First married fight?” Claire asked without missing a beat.

  “Uhhhhhhh.”

  “Stick with flowers for now, save the jewels and cars for when you really screw up.”

  “Well, I didn’t—”

  Claire crossed the room and came to his desk. “Mr. Fletcher, I have been married for twelve years, and a woman for thirty-six. Can I give you some advice?”

  Derrick nodded, eager for anything that would help him smooth over the situation.

  “Just always realize it is your fault, and don’t try to tell her it’s not. This will save you a lot of trouble and money on flowers,” she advised. “And whatever you do, for the love of everything holy, don’t ever ask if it is ‘her time of the month.’ I like my job and don’t want to have to plan your funeral.”

  “Uh, thank you, Claire,” Derrick said, wide-eyed. He was wondering if perhaps he should have taken notes.

  “You’re welcome. Call Oswald’s and get some tulips—roses are too cliché,” she said as she made her way back to the door. “Good night and good luck,” she called back as she pulled it closed behind her.

  Derrick quickly pulled out his phone, looked up the florist, and then saved the number to his contacts before calling. He might need them more than he would want with that advice.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Taylor had taken over Derrick’s office at the penthouse and had her company laptop, the PC, and her iPhone on speaker as she spoke with her head of hotels, the interior designer, and the construction head on the progress on the updates for the Preston Hotel chains. She was irritated, and she knew it radiated through, but this meeting was supposed to be happening at her office, where she wouldn’t need to look for things, where she knew where everything was.

  But instead she was in this stupid room, with the stupid desk and the stupid loud-ass clock and the stupid chair that hurt her back. And Todd and Charlie were there too, but there was only one other stupid chair in there, and so one of them had to stand. And the iPhone was not ideal to hear on for a huge meeting, and the whole thing was stupid.

  It had been an hour, and they were wrapping it up, and Taylor was certain her blood pressure was up, way up.

  “Okay, well, thank you, everyone, for being so accommodating to this change in events and making this meeting still happen. Jerry, we will be going forward with the new plan tomorrow on all sites, correct?”

  “Yes, Ms. Preston, I mean, Mrs. Preston-Fletcher,” the man stumbled.

  “Just Taylor, please,” she asked, exasperated. She had said that a million times this conversation, but she was sure her snippy attitude had done nothing to assure anyone they could be informal with her. “Great. And Dale and Greta, you will get the new samples to Camille when again?”

  “Friday.”

  “Okay, perfect. And, Camille, we will meet up Friday afternoon and review, sound good?”

  “Of course, uh, Taylor,” the usually chill woman responded, sounding a bit tense herself.

  Time to end this meeting. “Okay, everyone. Thanks again, and have a good night. Sorry for my poor mood!”

  Of course there was a round of “Oh you are fine” and “What bad mood?” but they were all quick to hang up.

  “Well, that went well,” Charlie said positively, but when Taylor met him with a death glare, he cleared his throat. “Well, um, at least we are moving forward. All the things you have done are fabulous, Taylor.”

  “Thank you, Charlie,” Taylor said, standing and stretching her back. “Okay, you two can get out of here. I think even you guys have had enough of my bad attitude.”

  “It isn’t the first time we have had to deal with it. Why start apologizing now?” Todd asked.

  Taylor gave him her middle finger and her best smile in return. “Good night,” she replied, saccharine sweet, and Todd gave her a small smirk.

  “Okay, Taylor, we will meet with you in the morning,” Charlie said, giving Todd a nudge toward the door.

  “If I am even allowed to leave, we will,” she said as she collected her papers.

  “He is worried about you, Taylor,” Charlie reminded gently.

  Taylor whipped her head up to say God-knows-what but was interrupted by the sound of Derrick calling her name from the outer rooms.

  “We’ll let him know you are in here,” Todd said, now leading Charlie out of the office.

  Taylor was so mad at Derrick. He knew better than anyone that her whole life she had been kept away, hidden, and sheltered from everything. And he was doing the exact same thing to her now. Where was all his “You’re in charge” shit today when he was telling her it wasn’t safe. She could have told him to buzz off, but truth was she was scared shitless
about the press and him telling her to get out of there ASAP and Henry’s head turning flaming red had done nothing to help ease her fears.

  “Hey,” came Derrick’s voice from the doorway.

  Taylor turned with a scowl at her husband. But she raised her brow when she saw the white and yellow tulips in his left hand.

  Derrick followed her gaze and cleared his throat, “I got you these to say I’m sorry,” he explained and held up the bouquet.

  It was beautiful. “Yeah?” Taylor asked as she dragged her gaze from the bouquet to meet Derrick’s eyes. “What, exactly, are you sorry for?”

  Derrick’s eyes got a little wide, but to his credit he recovered quickly. “Because of how upset I made you for making you go home early,” he responded. He looked confident, but his voice gave him away as he said the statement in the form of the question.

  “You don’t even know why I am mad!” Taylor exclaimed.

  Derrick sagged slightly. “Taylor I don’t know—”

  “You are keeping me in a bubble, Derrick! You are doing exactly what I was trapped in my whole life, exactly what I ran away from! In one breath you tell me I am in charge, and in the next you are insisting that I leave the office!”

  “Because I want to keep you safe!”

  “But you are keeping me in a bubble!” Taylor told him, exasperated. “I can handle this. I have to handle this, but you only let me just far enough off your leash and then drag me back!”

  “I have been in this world, around these people, and I’ve seen what they are capable of. You have no idea what can happen.”

  “But I have to know about it. Can’t you see that? I can’t live in hiding anymore. I can’t be secluded away to a distant location every time there is a mob,” Taylor said, almost pleading with Derrick to understand her. “I have to be at Preston Corp. I need to be part of the day to day there. That is going to have to include the media and press and paparazzi.”

  “It is scary sometimes, Taylor.”

  “Yes, and I am tired of being scared of it,” she said, her voice wavering as she responded. “I have been terrified of this whole thing, and bit by bit I have chipped away and faced my fears. But still you are keeping me from living, from dealing with it all.”