by Claire Adams
“Yep. She was irate,” I said.
“Obviously. But Christian, congrats. This is gonna be good for you.”
“You think?” I asked.
“You don’t think?” he asked.
“I mean, she had some points. She’s been educating herself her entire life on this subject. Her entire education and even her current career have been centered around one day taking over the company,” I said.
“So, she knows all the shit there is to know about it?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess so. At least, she acts like she does. I’d hope with all the education and work experience she has, she would.”
“Then, give her a job in the company,” he said.
“Really? You think she’d just work for a company handed over to someone she found incompetent to run it?” I asked.
“Oh, shit. She called you incompetent, too?”
“Yep. Lots of words flew,” I said.
“Fuck, the money I would’ve paid to have been there,” he said, grinning.
“You think she’d go for a position in the company, though?” I asked.
“You’d have to pay her well. You know, cushion her sorrows with cash. But, if you gave her enough money and the right job, I’m sure as hell she’d take it,” he said.
“What makes you think that?” I asked.
“Well, you said it yourself: she’d been grooming her entire life to be a part of that company. Phrase it in a way that makes it seem like she’s doing a service to her father, and she’ll probably do it.”
“And to think someone accused you of being an idiot,” I said.
“I’ve got my moments,” he said. “Find a job for her. If you don’t think it exists, sit down with whoever your father trusted as the accountant for the business and create one. That’s even better, because then you give her the option to pick and choose what she wants to do within the company.”
“That’s genius,” I said.
“Then, the company would not only have your intelligence and on-the-spot gut reactions, but it would also have her knowledge and creativity.”
“What makes you think I’m not creative?” I asked.
“You’re too lazy to be creative,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you need to be lazy, just means you’ve not chosen to stop yet.”
“You really think I can do this?” I asked.
“Yep. Just don’t go leaving all your friends behind when you make it in the big leagues,” he said.
“If I found a spot for you in the company, would you take it?” I asked.
“Not a chance in hell,” he said, smirking. “Don’t be nervous, Christian. You’re gonna catapult this company into greatness once you realize you can.”
“What if this doesn’t make me happy?” I asked.
“Then hand the company over to Stella. I’m sure they have paperwork somewhere for that kind of shit.”
“Or, I could do it now, and we could just keep trekking through life like we are,” I said.
“Dude, even I’m not that big of an idiot,” he said
“There won’t be any more parties if I take this on,” I said.
“You don’t come to half of them anyway,” he said.
“And you wouldn’t have a wingman anymore for the bar,” I said.
“I’ll survive, I’m sure,” he said. “Just give this a shot. Let Stella cool down, then give her an offer she can’t refuse.”
“And if she refuses it?” I asked.
“Then I guess you’re just a big ass failure destined for nothing but doom and gloom,” he said.
“I knew you’d see it my way,” I said, winking.
“Take your coffee and go run your company,” he said.
I grabbed my cold brew soaked with creamer and headed for the door. Todd’s idea about hiring Stella had been brilliant, but I still felt overwhelmed. That was the good thing about what Todd did: he never seemed too overwhelmed to enjoy his life. There was a part of me that knew if I took on this endeavor, I wouldn’t experience the kind of happiness he had. I mean, getting paychecks wasn’t all this world had to offer.
Todd understood that.
But, my mother’s letter kept echoing in the back of my mind, and as I got into my car and started it up, I knew what I had to do.
I had to do some research into what kind of job I could offer Stella.
Chapter Six
Stella
I wasn’t going to take any of this lying down. I had to save my father’s company. Christian didn’t have the skills, the knowledge, or the experience to run anything near the type of company my father had built, and I wasn’t going to watch it crumble in the hands of an entitled, lazy man-child. After sleeping on the emotions riled up during my failed lunch with Christian, I decided to head back to the lawyer’s office to discuss my options.
“Miss Harte, I assumed you would be in here fairly soon,” the lawyer said.
“I would like to know my options,” I said.
“On what?” the lawyer said.
“On how I can take the company back from my stepbrother.”
“I see. And, why would you want to go against your father’s wishes?”
“Because my father and I had a verbal agreement when I was younger, when I started my education, that I was the one who would take over when he was gone,” I said.
“Uh huh. Well, your father must have had a reason for not reflecting that in his will.”
“A father’s word to his daughter is more binding than some piece of paper after he’s died,” I said. “I would like to know my options, please.”
“Well, there aren’t many. All of the paperwork I have at my disposal here requires agreement from both parties. A mutual settlement, if you will,” the lawyer said. “I do have paperwork you could serve him with that would take him to court under the pretense that you feel he is mentally incapable of running the company. But, that would mean you were declaring him mentally unfit, not merely unintelligent on the subject.”
“I could argue that. My stepbrother’s a nut,” I said.
“Miss Harte. I cannot imagine the heartache you are going through. I have not lost my father yet, but my advice to you is—”
“I am not paying you to be my psychologist,” I said.
“Technically, you aren’t paying me at all. Your father’s company is, which has been passed along to your stepbrother. So, your stepbrother is paying me.”
I had to choke back my words and steady my breathing. Simply hearing that statement being put together made me sick to my stomach, and for a split second, I wanted to slap my purse across his cheek. No one understood. My father bound me to this company. I’d read every book, devoured every manual, took every class, and studied every single piece of equipment he’d ever crafted. I sat at his feet while he worked, cuddled in his lap while he looked over files, and even helped him order things as a child so I could familiarize myself with what he did to feel closer to him.
Furthering his legacy in this company was all I had left of my daddy, and Christian was ripping that from me.
“What would I have to do to get you to represent me in this matter?” I asked.
“I represent the company, Miss Harte. Not your stepbrother. Yes, the owner of Harte To Heart is paying me, but he has to seek out my counsel in order to utilize my services.”
“So, you’re not on billable hours with him right now with anything regarding the company?” I asked.
“No, Miss Harte. I am not.”
“Good. Because I’m about to put you on billable hours for something I’m going to hire you for. Is that a conflict of interest?” I asked.
“No, it is not.”
“Good. Look into my other options that would not force me to declare my stepbrother mentally inept. I have no issues taking him to court,” I said.
“I’ll take a look at the options, prepare the paperwork, and give you a call, Miss Harte.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for your bill,” I said.
I was more mentally clear than ever right now. I knew what my father’s company needed, and I would stop at nothing to make sure Harte To Heart obtained it.
I took a deep breath when I got into my car, settling my mind before lunch. Greyson had called that morning expressing a want to take me out, and I figured I could use someone in my corner. I needed to get out and about to clear my head, and I could vent to Greyson in the process.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, kissing me on the cheek.
“Hey,” I said, sighing.
“Long day?” he asked.
“Long couple of days. The wills were read yesterday, and it’s taken me some time to figure out what to do about it.”
“Ah, the plight of a business owner,” he said.
“Nope.”
“What?” he asked.
“My father didn’t leave me the company,” I said.
We sat down at the table in silence and ordered our drinks. I could tell Greyson was mulling over what I’d said. His eyes were staring out the window behind me before a confused furrow rippled through his brow, and I sighed when I realized he got it.
“It’s insane, right? I mean, I’ve been groomed from the time I was young to lead this company. I’ve already met with the lawyer, and he’s drawing up paperwork for me to consider when I take my stepbrother to court.”
“You think that’s a good idea?” he asked.
“What?”
“Taking your stepbrother to court. I mean, your father made a smart move,” he said.
“Wait. You think my father made the right move in handing the company over to Christian?” I asked.
“Do the two of you know what you’d like to drink?” the waitress asked.
“I’ll have a Pepsi, and she’ll have water,” Greyson said without hesitation.
“Scratch that, I’ll have a Pepsi as well,” I said.
“You sure? Carbonation makes you pretty bloated,” he said.
“I don’t need a man making my decisions for me, Greyson.”
“You let me make decisions all the time. This restaurant, for instance. You didn’t fight me one bit when I asked you to meet me here,” he said.
“Because you asked. You didn’t assume I would simply follow your command,” I said.
“But I phrased it in such a way that you simply… responded the way I thought you would,” he said. “It’s why your father made a smart move with the company.”
“So, two Pepsis?” the waitress asked uncomfortably.
“Apparently so,” Greyson said.
“I’ll be back with them in a bit,” the waitress said.
“I don’t think I understand what you’re saying, Greyson,” I said.
“Usually, men hit the nail on the head. Sometimes they don’t, like right now, but usually, they do. It’s why they're more prone to run companies. A man’s gut feeling is like a woman’s intuition.”
“Women use their intuition all the time to run companies,” I said.
“Actually, an article in a psychological journal I read the other day stated that a woman’s intuition is more prone to picking up a person’s emotional disposition. Women are much better at men when it comes to picking up on and interpreting nonverbal communication, but the interpretation only goes so far as to dictate what emotion the other person is harboring. Men are wonderful at manipulation tactics; it’s what helps them thrive in business. The emotional disposition of the other person doesn’t matter, and if the man is truly skilled, he can shift his emotional disposition in order to fool the other counterpart. Your father probably encountered a great deal of that when building what he did, and he understood that a man’s hand would be necessary to keep moving the company forward.”
“Two Pepsis for the lovely couple,” the waitress said, smiling. “Do either of you know what you would like to eat?”
“Yes,” Greyson said. “I’ll have the pan-seared duck breast and she’ll—”
“I’m not be staying for lunch,” I said.
“What?” Greyson asked.
I grabbed the Pepsi and chugged it down, choking back the burn as it surged down my throat. I blinked back tears as I drained the glass, the carbonation prickling down my throat as I digested what Greyson had just spewed. He had, in one disgusting monologue, not only told me I was incapable of running my father’s company because I was a woman, but also threw some bullshit scientific argument into the mix just to make his point.
Holy fuck, I needed out of this restaurant.
I slammed my glass down before I drew a deep breath in through my nose. I stood up from my chair and grabbed my purse, and I watched Greyson stand with me as the waitress backed up from the table.
“Come on, Stella. You know as well as I do that your father was an incredible businessman. He was just doing business.”
“Have a good day, Greyson,” I said.
“Stella. Stop. Sit and eat. You look terrible. Have you been getting enough food?” he asked.
“Goodbye, Greyson,” I said.
I made my way to the front of the restaurant while Greyson huffed behind me. I shouldn’t have been shocked when I realized he didn’t follow me out of the restaurant, but it still didn’t ease the hurt when I turned around and didn’t find anyone there. No one supported me in what I knew was right. Not even the man I was dating. All of a sudden, I was struck with a terrifying thought.
I was completely alone.
I got into my car and started it up. I knew Daisy would be working at the retirement home today, so I wouldn’t be able to talk with her until later.
But, I didn’t want to go home. How could I walk into the house and pretend like none of this had happened? I was in no mood to go through my father’s things. I was single-handedly watching everyone back off from my father’s decision to destroy his company, and I wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
I wasn’t going to allow anyone to run what he had accomplished into the ground.
Not even my father himself.
That company was rightfully mine, that much I was sure of. There wasn’t a lawyer in this town, save for the one employed by my father’s company, that wouldn’t see it that way. Any lawyer within 20 miles of San Diego would understand exactly where I was coming from and believe in my case to take this company away from my stepbrother. Christian didn’t understand this company, he didn’t like this company, and he didn’t deserve this company. I was the one who went with my father to all the “take your kid to work” days. Every time my father invited him, Christian turned him down. Every single time my father asked him if he wanted to come sit on his lap and go through files, he would just sigh and roll his eyes.
I was the one going with him to the office. I was the one helping him crunch numbers. I was the one helping him with files and helping him make orders and memorizing his projects.
So now, after my entire life had been surrounded by this company, Christian thought he could just step in out of thin air, learn everything by osmosis, and take this company to greatness? My father had already brought greatness to his company. And now, it was time for his company to give back a bit to my father.
It was time this company was run in honor of my father instead of being run by my father.
And I was going to make sure it did just that. The first step was finding a way to get it back from a bratty, lackadaisical stepbrother who didn’t give a shit about it.
Chapter Seven
Christian
Wednesday
I rehearsed what I was going to say to Stella repeatedly as I drove to her house. I had called and talked to th
e accountant, and she gave me the go-ahead to speak with Stella about hiring her at Harte to Heart. During my conversation with the accountant, I learned my stepfather operated without a vice president, so that would be the perfect position for Stella. We could negotiate her pay and benefits, and then the two of us could sit side by side in the new offices I wanted to build for us over the main supplies building.
Right now, my stepfather had it as storage, but if we moved things around, stocked the store fully to make it look nice, and used the two closets in the back for overflow, we could outfit that space into offices. I took a quick look at the books and realized the company was working at an incredible profit, so I felt comfortable bringing all this up to Stella.
I pulled into her driveway and took a deep breath before I went to knock on her door. The last time we’d seen each other, it didn’t go well, and the last thing I wanted to do was cause her any more grief than what she was already going through.
But, we really needed to talk. More importantly, however, was that she really needed to listen.
I knocked on her door and heard shuffling behind it, but when she opened the door, she looked almost disappointed that it was me.
“You’re not Daisy,” she said flatly.
“Expecting the best friend?” I asked.
“What are you doing here, Christian?” she asked.
“We really need to talk,” I said.
“We really don’t,” she said.
“Stella, I know you’re hurting. You miss your father, and you feel like you’ve been slighted. And I don’t blame you. But, I’m hurting, too. I lost my mother, the only woman on this planet that ever gave a shit about me.”
“Sorry your life sucks like mine,” she said. “What do you want?”
“Let me come in so we can talk,” I said.
“I’ve talked with enough men for now.”
“What does that mean?”
I watched her face, and for a split second, I saw that vulnerability again. Her statement about Daisy coupled with that comment gave me the notion that Greyson must’ve pulled some bullshit, and part of me wanted to drag it out of her. That rich goody two shoes thought he was God’s gift to the planet. He was one of those idiots that always boasted and flaunted his intelligence in every conversation he had with someone to make himself feel superior.