by Claire Adams
I was rooted to my seat. I felt exposed in a way that wasn’t alright with me, and suddenly all of this felt very out of place. I cleared my throat and straightened my back, looking for a way to gain the upper hand from a man who had snaked it slowly out from underneath me.
But, I wasn’t succumbing to his tactics. I wasn’t going to let this slide. My father’s entire legacy was at stake, and that I didn’t take lightly.
“Why the hell did my father choose you to run the company?” I asked.
“My guess is because it takes vulnerability and empathy to run the type of company he created.”
“And here I just thought you told me I was capable of vulnerability,” I said.
“Obviously, by the look on your face, you believe you’re not. Do you think your father was able to read people as well as I can?” he asked.
I’d had enough of this lunch. My mind was whirling, and the knife at the table was looking mighty appealing at present. I threw my napkin onto the table before I scooted out of the booth, and Christian’s eyes switched from guarded to pleading in the span of half a second.
“Come on, Stella. Just sit down. We really need to talk,” he said.
“We’ve talked enough. When you realize how hard this is, the type of expertise and training necessary, you’ll turn it over,” I said.
“Stella.”
“Goodbye, Christian,” I said.
I walked out of the restaurant before the food even got there and stuck him with the bill. If he was going to run my father’s company, then he could afford the food not eaten. All I wanted to do was go home. My father was dead, the business had been given to my incompetent and lazy ass stepbrother, and everything I had worked so hard for had just spiraled down the drain.
Fuck this day and every day that had ever come before it.
Chapter Five
Christian
The moment I walked into my house after my disastrous lunch with Stella, I couldn’t help but chuckle. She and I had become so distant that she thought I was still living in that dingy old apartment I first moved into when I got kicked out of college. Little did she know I’d worked my way into renting a pretty decent house I was proud of.
But, I spent the entire evening thinking about all the new responsibilities my stepfather had saddled me with.
There was terminology I wasn’t familiar with and things like “factory standards” and “safety standards” to learn. I had to familiarize myself with projects he probably had in the works as well as stay on top of people who looked after things like all the regular deliveries that had to be made. I needed to make sure the books were balanced and that all bills were necessary, and I needed to look into the possibility of finding a larger warehouse to put the store. I’d always thought that place was a bit small, even if he did only want to target just the San Diego community.
I also made a mental note to educate myself in patents and licensing. There’s a great deal of money in licensing, sure. But, if we could patent a couple of things and keep them as ours, selling them only from our medical supplies store, that could put us on the map internationally.
I had so many ideas bombard me, but I needed some technical books to read to familiarize myself with the verbiage of the industry.
I found myself headed back to the coffee shop much earlier than I planned. I needed to talk to Todd about some things, and I just needed his advice. Plus, I was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed, and I didn’t want to back down from this challenge. My stepfather entrusted me with his company so I would take it to the next generation. I had to show him that his trust wasn’t misplaced, and I had to show my mother that she was wrong.
I had to show her she hadn’t failed with me.
“Hey, Christian. So, how’s it feel to have a rich-ass stepsister?” he asked.
“Try again,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“The question should be how does Stella feel about having a rich-ass stepbrother,” I said.
“Dude. Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked, smiling.
“Not in the slightest. That man fucking handed over his company to me,” I said.
“Oh, holy shit. Stella must’ve lost her mind.”
“She did. She didn’t even stay to hear my mother’s last letter read,” I said.
“That’s brutal. How do you feel about that?” he asked.
“It’s whatever. I’m kind of glad she wasn’t there for it. It was lunch that was the fun part,” I said.
“Lunch?”
“Yeah. I figured I could take her to lunch so we could talk about what the hell happened,” I said.
“I bet she didn’t like that,” he said.
“Nope. She got angry and accused me of assuming she couldn’t pay for her lunch, then started all this bullshit business powerplay fuckery. Wanted to pick the restaurant, went to the one place she knew I didn’t like. Shit like that.”
“That’s insane,” Todd said, chuckling.
“It is. Then, she berated me in front of the entire restaurant. Said I hadn’t ever achieved anything and called me lazy and kept asking me why the hell her father handed me the company. You know, she thought me and her old man had somehow connived this behind her back.”
“Wait, she accused you of being a lazy ass, and then accused you of being a mastermind?” he asked.
“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 picked up my purse and left the office the same way I had come into it the day before; I marched down the hallway with my head held high, and my shoulders rolled back. I didn’t want anyone thinking they could trample over me during a time when my emotions were running high. That was when people took advantage of women most. People thought that emotions made women weak and wild-minded, and I was anything but.
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 follo
w 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.