by Whitney G.
Preston Parker,
CEO & Owner, Parker International
Eighteen
Preston
I rushed to my office and damn near turned around once I saw who was sitting in front of my desk. It was Mr. and Mrs. Von Strum, who, true to form, instead of staying in London to meet me, had to play games and meet me here first.
I knew this shit wasn’t an emergency.
I contemplated calling Tara in here for this. She was far better at dealing with people’s mind games and keeping a straight face. Then again, the quicker I got this over with, the quicker I could return to her in the boardroom.
“Good afternoon.” I held back a groan as I took a seat behind my desk. “What’s the emergency?”
“We wanted to let you know that regardless of the London meeting we have lined up for this weekend, we’re still not sold on this deal,” Mr. Von Strum said.
“Do they not have telephones in London?” I asked. “You could’ve called.”
“We prefer the personal approach,” he said. “We’re just not sure that you’re the right guy to hand our brand over to.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re a heartless asshole,” his wife hissed. “If we cracked your chest open right now, I’m sure we’d find a wallet instead of a heart.”
“Do you think the wallet would be an Armani or a Gucci?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, and her husband clasped her hand. “We just want to make sure that you won’t turn our brand into an extended chain of your gaudy, overpriced resorts.”
“I’ll be turning your cheap, family brand into a five-star luxury resort with budget-friendly amenities. There’s nothing gaudy or overpriced about any of my hotels.”
“You charge twelve dollars for a bottle of water in the guest rooms.”
“Because we fly it in from Fiji.” I clenched my jaw. “That shit isn’t free.”
“Yes, well—” Mr. Von Strum took off his reading glasses. “I’ve never noticed a true difference in the taste. All bottled waters have always tasted the same to me. However, if we ever do get to the final deal table with you, we want you to keep all of our employees, and we want them to keep their benefit packages. We also want—”
I tuned him out. Two years of chasing this man and I was still in the same place I was on day one. And his intrusion had forced me to the same position I was on day one with Tara as well.
By the time I returned to listening to the conversation and quietly waging war against him for interrupting my session with Tara, he was quoting some personal philosophy.
“What are you trying to say, Mr. Von Strum?” I wanted to get back downstairs as soon as possible. “Get to the point.”
“I would like more time to consider your offer and entertain other buyers. We’ll see if any of our family members want to take a chance on running things.”
“Fair enough,” I said, standing and extending my hand. “This so-called emergency meeting is over.”
“Thank God for that,” his wife scoffed, rejecting my hand. “For the record, I would much rather prefer to talk to Miss Lauren from here on out.”
“Her answers will be the same as mine.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Von Strum said, shunning my handshake as well. “She’s far more human than you’ll ever be. “Pardon my language, but I’m sure your parents aren’t too proud of the asshole you’ve become.”
“My parents are dead, but I’m sure they’re still looking down right now, feeling quite proud of the asshole I became.”
He gave me a slight look of sympathy, looking as if he wanted to apologize, but his wife pulled him out of the room.
“George,” I said, looking at him. “That meeting was the textbook definition of ‘not an emergency.’ You could’ve handled that on your own.”
“They showed up seconds after I called you,” he said, heading to the door. “The emergency is on line one. The person says it’s a family matter.”
Confused, I waited until he shut the door and picked up the phone. “This is Preston Parker. This better be important.”
“It is, sir,” a deep voice said. “But I have to tell you, this is a call I hate to make.”
“Yet, here we are.”
“There was an accident earlier this morning on the Triborough Bridge, sir. Your brother, Weston Parker, has passed away.”
Silence.
I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I pulled out my cell phone and typed “Triborough Bridge morning car accident” into the browser, and a full page of articles popped up. I couldn’t bring myself to click on any of them.
“His fiancée passed away in the accident as well, sir,” he said. “Do you, by chance have contact information for her?”
I didn’t even know he had a fiancée. “No.”
“Well, I know you two were probably close—”
“We weren’t.” I cut him off. “We weren’t close at all.”
“Oh. Um well, your brother was very meticulous about keeping an updated will, and as his estate representative, I need you to meet me down at the Rosy-Gan Bar & Café down the street from your headquarters. He left you something significant.”
I ended the call without saying anything at all. I stood still and numb, unsure of how to feel.
My brother and I hadn’t spoken in over a decade, and even when we were on speaking terms, it was only for the sake of our parents. The only thing we shared in common was our identical looks, as we’d honestly never gotten along in life. The “They’re twins! They’ll grow out of it and become best friends,” never happened and all we had to show for our relationship were our old staged pictures at milestone events.
I looked at them now and then, wanting to reach out, but I could never bring myself to do it. His name never crossed my call log either.
We’d failed to establish a connection during our early college years, and when our parents passed away shortly after graduation, we only called each other on holidays. After a while, we stopped calling each other altogether.
I never admitted it, but I still kept up with him through the press and all the budget hotel chain magazines, but that was it.
Feeling conflicted, I sent Tara a quick email and headed down to the Rosy-Gan Bar & Café.
I made it to the café minutes later, making my way straight toward a man in a grey suit.
“I’m Preston Parker,” I said. “Are you the guy who called me on the phone?”
“Yes, I’m Mr. Harris.” He extended his hand, but I didn’t take it. “Have a seat, Mr. Parker.”
I didn’t move.
“Okay, then,” he said, unclipping his keyboard. “I have a few things I need you to sign before I can hand over the things your brother left you.”
“Shouldn’t we be discussing his funeral?”
“No, your brother was very adamant about not wanting a funeral in his will, sir.” He handed me a standard acceptance contract, and I skimmed the short paragraph before signing my name.
“In the days to come, someone from my office will contact you regarding his remains—which he asked to be cremated, among other legal things, since you’re the next of kin. We’ll have to sift through all his business dealings and other contracts for quite a while before the other things are completely concrete. Speaking of which, they have a specialty brew here called Concrete. Want to try it?”
I gave him a blank stare.
“Right.” He cleared his throat and pulled a sheet from a manila envelope. “I’ll just read his words to you, give you the things, and let you go.”
“The sooner, the better.”
“Should anything ever happen to me, this note is for the last living member of my immediate family. My asshole brother.”
I smiled. I had the same line printed in my will for him.
“Preston, I want you to know that I’ve always understood why you shut me out after mom and dad passed away. You’ve never been good when it comes to expressing your emotions or handlin
g grief, and I don’t think you’ve ever valued family or friends. You were never able to put those first … I know we’ve always been complete opposites since the day we were born, but I’ve always loved you, and I’ve always rooted for your success.”
“Is that the end?” I asked. “He left me his thoughts?”
“No.” He shook his head and continued reading. “I leave you a letter of personal words I wish I would’ve said sooner and my Violet.” He pulled out a fluffy pink and brown keychain that was engraved with the words “My Violet.”
“This is his greatest possession?” I asked, taking the keychain from him. “I’ll be sure to keep it in my best safe. Then again, is there anyone else he wanted me to share this with?”
“It would’ve been his fiancée, sir.” He looked down. “She doesn’t have any living family members.”
I held back a sigh. My brother was always far pettier than I was, but this was low. Even for him.
“I appreciate you making me come down here for a keychain.” I looked at my watch, feeling an unfamiliar ache in my chest. “You’ve wasted my time.” I started to walk away, but he jumped in front of me.
“Not so fast, Mr. Parker. Violet is not a keychain.”
“Then why did you give it to me?”
He sighed and held up the signed acceptance contract. “Didn’t you read the fine print?”
“Always.” I looked at it again. “I agree to handle all affairs that are required, accept any gifts and heirlooms, and as next of kin, I agree to care for any heirs that the Weston Parker Estate, herein named The W Estate, leaves behind.” I shrugged. “My brother didn’t have any kids.”
His eyes widened. “You weren’t close at all, huh?”
Before I could tell him to get the hell out of my way, another man in a grey suit walked into the café holding the hand of a teddy-bear-hugging toddler.
I looked at my keychain and realized it was a replica of that bear. That the other charm on the keychain was a picture of the little girl who was walking toward me.
What the fuck? My entire world felt like it stopped. My brother has a daughter?
A fiancée was one thing to keep to himself, but a goddamn daughter?
Throbbing pains shot through my chest, and I was hoping this was all a bad dream.
The little girl looked around, slightly confused, but then her eyes met mine. She stared at me, and I stared right back.
The more I looked at her, the more I noticed that our eyes were the same. Emerald green with flecks of light grey.
“Come on, Violet.” The other suit walked her a bit closer, and then he pointed at me. “Do you know who this man is?”
She nodded. “He’s my daddy’s twin. My Uncle Preston.”
I blinked, beyond stunned that she knew who I was. Then again, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the “Uncle” part.
“Do you know where your Uncle Preston lives?”
She looked up at me, then at her teddy bear. “He lives in my bear.”
“No, he lives here in New York. Just like you and your dad.”
I felt a surge of guilt. I didn’t even know he moved to New York, I thought he still lived in California.
“You’re going to live with him for a while, okay?” The suit was still talking. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
She nodded, and I shook my head.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I don’t know the first thing about caring for a kid.”
“Then you’re about to learn.” Mr. Harris patted my shoulder.
“Surely there’s more to this than dropping her off with a stranger at a bar. Where’s Child Services?”
“You’re the next of kin, Mr. Parker.” He lowered his voice. “You’re the only living family member she has left. She has no idea what’s happened to her parents, and we figured that family should be the one to tell her.”
“What?” The guilt in my chest quickly turned into a familiar hurt and pain I knew all too well.
“My people will call your people in the coming days with more information about your brother’s business affairs and all the things he left for Violet,” he said, ignoring my question and moving on. “Is your primary point of contact your executive assistant? A Miss Tara Lauren?”
“Yes.”
“Would you mind pulling out your phone and giving me her number and home address?”
“She has three phone numbers and two main addresses,” I said, reciting them all by heart. “If It’s ever a true emergency, and you can’t reach her, try her best friend Ava Sanders at 555-1703.”
“Oh, wow.” He smiled as if he hadn’t just turned my world upside down. “I don’t even know my girlfriend’s number by heart. It’s impressive that you know all your employees’ info like that.”
“I don’t know shit about kids.” I stared at Violet. “I meant that.”
“Is my Daddy coming?” Violet asked. “Mommy said he would get me ice cream if I was good today.”
The three of us just looked at her. No one dared to answer.
“We’ll be in touch, Mr. Parker.” Mr. Harris patted my back again and handed me a huge file that read Violet Rose Parker. “Unfortunately, I have to address someone else from another estate right now, but I am very sorry for your loss.”
The other suit gave me a look of sympathy, and then they both walked out of the bar—leaving me with the toddler.
Keeping my eyes on her, I signaled for a waiter.
“Yes, sir?” He stepped next to me.
“I need a scotch, a double. Now.”
“Sir, we can’t serve you anything until you remove your baby from the premises.”
“What baby?”
He pointed at Violet.
“You’re reading too much into this.” I sighed. “Violet, how old are you?”
“Three and a half!” she said proudly.
“She’s three and a half,” I said. “She’s not a baby.”
“Sir, you can’t bring a baby into a bar.”
“I didn’t bring her in here at all.”
“Rules are rules, sir.” He held up his hands in surrender and walked away.
Violet whispered to her teddy bear, then she stepped closer to me. “Me and Bear are hungry. Can we have some pizza?”
I said nothing, completely stunned by today’s turn of events.
I’d gone from nearly sleeping with Tara in the boardroom, to losing Von Strum’s trust, to becoming an uncle within the same hour.
“I’m really hungry, Uncle Preston.” Violet tugged at my pants. “And I have to pee-pee.”
Jesus Christ.
Nineteen
Tara
I rolled over in the bed on Preston’s private plane, unable to sleep. All I could think about was the way he’d brought me to multiple orgasms with his mouth days earlier. The way I wanted him to come back to the room and finish things as he’d promised.
Then again, I knew the moment he emailed me about going to London without him, that something was horribly wrong. He never missed an international meeting, and he’d never gone a day without contacting me, so four was quite the record.
A part of me wanted to reach out and ask if he was okay, but I’d been burned too many times by asking about his personal life. Hell, I was still slightly upset about some of the words he’d hurled my way before the skill of his tongue made me forget.
I couldn’t wrap my head around him saying that he did so many things for me. With the exception of work bonuses and a discount on my condo, I didn’t see it.
Sitting up, I opened my laptop and read over the email I was supposed to send to him Saturday. Amazing mouth or not, I still wanted to quit, and I wasn’t going to stop trying. I read it over one last time and hit send as the plane began its descent.
* * *
Subject: My Contract
Mr. Parker,
I hope all is well.
I understand that I failed to read the “fine print” of my employment contract, but
I would still like to leave your company. I’ve given you two of my best years, and I feel that the least you can do is compromise and let me go.
I would like to discuss this at your earliest convenience.
Tara Lauren
Executive Assistant to Preston Parker,
CEO of Parker International
* * *
He responded within seconds.
* * *
Subject: Re: My Contract
Miss Lauren,
All is not well.
Yes, you did fail to read the fine print of your employment contract, and legally speaking, I’m under no obligation to compromise.
That said, I have an emergency situation, and I need your help.
If you do agree to help me with this (and a few other things), I’ll let you out of your contract.
Meet me at my condo when you land.
Preston Parker,
CEO & Owner, Parker International
* * *
I read his email a few times in shock that he was willing to let me go. I turned my phone off and on and reread it again, just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing a trick on me.
I wasted no time telling the town car driver to rush me to his condo when I got off the plane. I took the elevator up to his floor, bracing myself for what I hoped would be a real emergency.
Knowing him, it’s probably not.
I knocked five times, waiting for an answer. I knocked again, and he opened the door wearing dark jeans and a black shirt that hugged his muscles in all the right places. He eyed my short beige and grey dress and his lips curved into a sexy smile.
“You told me you lost that dress months ago,” he said.
“No, I said I wouldn’t be wearing it again because all you did was stare at me when I wore it.”
He was still staring. “Come in.”
“Before I come in, there’s something I need to say.”
“I’m listening.”
“I just want you to know that what happened with me in the conference room can’t happen again.”