Intimate Mergers

by Raleigh Davis

  “You can’t really be thinking of retiring. You’re still sharp as ever.”

  Mother sinks down into one of the chairs and suddenly looks tired. I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen her this tired before. “Thank you for the kind words, but I… I never wanted to do this my entire life. I only built it up so I could hand it off to you.”

  That’s not exactly true. My father died young, of cancer, and before he passed, he arranged everything so that my mother would inherit control of the family holdings. There was a lot of grumbling about it, and she had to fight hard to keep her position, but my father saw what no one else in the family did: my mother was born to run a massive corporation like ours. She might not have been born into our family, but she was the perfect person to manage the assets that kept all of us going.

  She’s been saying I should take over ever since I turned eighteen. I mostly ignored her as I went to university, then to business school, then helped start Bastard Capital. She never really did anything about her insistence that I take over, so I never took her seriously.

  Until now. Dragging Amelia all the way here and insisting that I propose is a pretty dramatic step. Which is typical of Mother: when she decides something needs to be done, she doesn’t hesitate.

  Still, I’m not getting married. And not to Amelia. My mother is stubborn, but she’ll listen to reason.

  “I’m happy to take over and let you have a rest,” I say, “but I can’t marry Amelia. Does she know that’s why you dragged her here?”

  My mother waves her hand, the only sign of irritation she allows herself. “I didn’t tell her exactly, but she must suspect. Our families have known each other forever. And of course you have to marry her. There are very few women who can deal with the demands that will be made on your wife. Amelia comes from the right kind of family, wouldn’t be marrying you for your wealth, and she knows how to move through our social circle. And you two have been friends forever.”

  That’s all true. Amelia would be the perfect wife for me—if I’d never left Taiwan and followed the exact path my mother thinks I should have. But I didn’t and I’m not precisely the man my mother thinks I am. I want more from a marriage than what Mother considers to be the perfect wife.

  The friends-forever part also means I can’t marry Amelia. Because I know that Amelia loves someone else.

  She’s desperately in love with someone her family would never approve of and has been for years. She’s never had the courage to actually do something about it, and while she’s miserable now, she’d be even more miserable married to me.

  If I tell my mother that, every single detail will reach Amelia’s mother’s ears before the end of the day. Mother would consider it her duty to tell Amelia’s mother that her daughter is headed for ruin. So I keep my mouth shut.

  “I don’t see why I have to be married in order to run the company.” I try to think of someone else in our social circle who’s unmarried and successfully managing the family assets, as proof of principle, but I can’t think of anyone. They were probably all steamrolled by their mothers into marrying Amelia clones.

  That’s not going to happen to me.

  My mother simply stares at me for a long moment. I can’t tell if she’s disappointed or angry or simply thinking up new tactics. She loves me, yes, she’s devoted her entire life to me and my sister and running the companies, but she’s never once let me win an argument with her.

  “I’ve been doing this all on my own for decades now,” she says quietly. “I know how hard it is. And I don’t want you to suffer through what I did.”

  She couldn’t have said anything better designed to pierce my heart. I saw exactly what she struggled through as she fought for my father’s legacy for us. She couldn’t have remarried—the family would’ve never allowed that—but maybe having someone by her side, someone on her side, might’ve made all of it easier to bear.

  “I won’t suffer,” I say to her. “I know how hard it was, but because you fought so well, it will be easier for me.”

  She shakes her head. “Once you’re running the companies, you won’t have time to search for a bride. And even more gold diggers will come out of the woodwork then.”

  Time to search for a bride. I hold in my instinctive flinch. I came to America to get a break from all that, from always having to be the perfect eldest son, a credit to his mother and his distinguished family name. Here I could just be Paul. Yes, I was still very, very wealthy, but with the freedom of anonymity. Here I could do whatever I wanted. No one was watching my every move.

  I knew I’d have to return home and take up that responsibility someday, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.

  But my mother’s right—she’s handled everything for decades. If she wants to stop, I have to honor that. And step up and do my duty.

  “All right,” I say with a heavy heart. “I’ll come home with you, take over the day-to-day operations. You shouldn’t have to manage everything if you’re ready to retire. But I absolutely cannot marry Amelia. It’s not happening.”

  I don’t often tell my mother flat-out no, but in this case, I have to.

  Her expression goes stony. “It must happen. I’ve already drawn up the documents for your succession and had them approved by the board. They wanted to have your cousin Oliver take over. Archie, especially, argued for Oliver over you.”

  This time I do wince. Oliver’s nice enough but not very bright. “Archie’s only suggesting him because he knows he can control him. If he’s in charge, that side of the family will loot everything that isn’t nailed down.”

  My mother nods sharply. “Exactly. Which is why you have to take over. The board agreed to my succession plan—but only if you are at home and suitably settled.”

  This is like something out of a K-drama. “Suitably settled? You mean married?”

  “Yes. You return home, have a beautiful society wedding, and begin producing the next generation. That is suitably settled. And that’s what they want.”

  The board never suggested any such thing—that’s what she wants. Oh, the family will be happy enough to have me as the ideal son heading up everything, but I doubt that was their first demand.

  I’m not sure how to call her on it though.

  My mother holds up a jewelry box from her purse. “I stopped by Paris last week and picked up the engagement ring. You and Amelia will announce your engagement in three weeks at the gala. It’s the perfect way to raise awareness and money for our foundation and excellent press for the family.”

  Our family foundation sponsors the biggest gala in San Francisco, supposedly to raise money for cancer charity. And we do, donating millions upon millions of dollars to cancer researchers at UCSF. But it’s really the perfect opportunity to show off how benevolent and rich we are.

  But in a tasteful way.

  Mother has a plan that would do a general proud. My throat tightens as I realize that she’s not letting go of this, not easily.

  When she sets her sight on something, she never lets go. Rivals have always called her ruthless, while I’ve preferred to think of her as tenacious. I’m beginning to see her rivals’ point.

  If only I could tell her the truth about Amelia… but not even that might stop her. Mother would think that marrying me, even if she doesn’t love me, would be much better for Amelia than pining after someone her family wouldn’t accept.

  My mother might have a point. Amelia’s never held a job in her life. Her family would cut her off without a second thought if she married the man she loves, and I can’t imagine Amelia working for a living or keeping house.

  That still doesn’t mean I’m going to marry her. But I can’t see an easy way out of this. Not yet.

  Mother puts the jewelry box away, then picks up a cup of tea. She takes a long, satisfied sip. “Really, you should be thanking me. I’ve taken care of everything for you. And Amelia is quite pretty—poor Geoffrey Lai married Jenny Chung. Such a big fortune, but those ears…” Mother shudder
s delicately.

  My mother doesn’t know it, but right after the wedding, Geoffrey moved back in with his longtime girlfriend—mistress now, I guess—and Jenny is shopping her way through Europe, finally spending the inheritance she was never allowed to touch before. They’re happy in their own way, but that’s not what I would want out of marriage. I’m not even ready to get married, but I don’t want that.

  I suppose I want a partner somewhat like my mother described—someone who could handle my life, my family, and the spotlight I’m in. But someone not so rigidly… perfect that I couldn’t stand her.

  A fluttering of leaves in the atrium catches my attention. From behind a fern, Grace appears. She’s looking at a black orchid with a white-and-purple center, her hand hovering over it like she’s desperate to touch it but afraid to as well.

  Something about her expression, the bleak turn of her mouth, the lines around her eyes, the way she won’t let herself touch the flower makes my chest do strange, painful things.

  As she catches my eye, a current passes through the air from her to me. Not a greeting or even an acknowledgment, but something deeper. Something that makes my skin crackle.

  And then she looks away, her cheeks going pink. But that buzz remains between us.

  I don’t look away. “I can’t marry Amelia,” I say slowly, my gaze stuck on Grace. A wisp of an idea floats through my mind, a hint of a solution to my fiancée problem.

  It would be crazy, but no crazier than what my mother’s suggesting. But there’s no time to convince her or let her in on the pretense…

  “You keep saying that,” Mother says, “but you haven’t given me a reason.”

  No, I can’t give her the real reason. But a false one might just work.

  I turn to look at my mother. “The reason… The reason is because I’m already engaged.” I point to the atrium. “To Grace, actually.”

  Chapter Four

  Of course Paul would be meeting with his mother when I came in. Of course. Because I can’t catch a break.

  Anjie took one look at my face when I asked for Paul and pulled me into the atrium. I suppose she meant for me to hide behind some ferns while she went to get me some tea, but I can’t help but stare at Paul and the woman with him.

  Lillian Tsai is even more impressive and imposing in person than she is in photos. I immediately recognize her from all the articles about her that I’ve devoured. I knew she was Paul’s mother, but seeing her here, in his office, is almost too real.

  She’s famous, infamous, the kind of woman I don’t necessarily want to be but am in awe of. Running a massive family company on her own for decades? Yeah, that takes a spine of steel. Doing it with her grace and poise? That takes immense character.

  Neither of them notices me, which I’m grateful for. They seem to be… not arguing, exactly, but it’s a tense conversation. Not something they want me to catch them at.

  Instead, I study some of the orchids, or pretend to. I suddenly feel small and silly, running here to Paul, expecting to cry on his shoulder. We’re distant acquaintances at best, and I would embarrass him if I burst into his office all upset.

  I should go. He’s busy with family things, and he’s done more than enough to help me. I’ll go home, wait for January to call, and—

  He’s motioning me to come in. What the hell is he doing that for?

  I go so stiff I can feel the air swirling at the bottom of my lungs. His mother is there; he can’t mean to introduce me?

  Heat prickles along my skin, my nerves waking back up in a rush. He’s gesturing again, his expression going from friendly to stern. He’s ordering me to come in.

  So I lift my hand and point to myself, which is so ridiculous I immediately want to die. Brilliant, Grace. No, he clearly wants that orchid next to you to sprout legs and walk into his office.

  Paul’s nostrils flare long and slow. He’s sighing at me. I can’t blame him.

  I nod, the gesture curt with embarrassment. Right. I can’t avoid it now.

  I have to walk through the main office to get to Paul’s office since there’s no other door through the atrium. It’s a short distance, but I still pray for Anjie to appear and whisk me off for tea, thereby saving me.

  My terrible, awful luck holds, and she doesn’t.

  When I walk into the office, I clasp my hands in front of me and make my expression soft. I’m going to be introduced to Lillian Tsai. She won’t remember me, but I’ll definitely remember this.

  Paul is smiling at me like… I don’t know what that smile means. It’s wider than I’m used to but a little bit sharp at the edges, like he’s trying to poke me into realizing something. “And here she is.” He sounds like he couldn’t wait for me to arrive. “You can finally meet her.”

  He’s addressing that to the both of us—he means his mom meeting me and me meeting his mom. Which is confusing as heck. I’m so lost—I’m going to need a map and GPS to find my way through this.

  His mom isn’t exactly rude, but I can tell from her expression she is not happy about this. Whatever this is.

  “Grace, this is my mother.” He puts a hand in the small of my back and doesn’t exactly push but very firmly guides me over to his mother. His hand is warm and large, and my shirt is very thin. My heart kicks up a notch because he’s touching me. “Mother, this is Grace. My fiancée.”

  Fiancée. That’s not the word he meant. He said… Fiancée.

  Fiancée?

  I’ve probably read too many romance novels, because two seconds after my brain processes the word fiancée, I realize what he’s up to.

  We’re fake engaged.

  I want to stare at him, to open my mouth and shout, ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but something deep in my brain holds me back. Probably my awareness of his mom watching the two of us with a skeptical turn to the corner of her mouth.

  This isn’t the time or place to confront him, so instead I blink to clear the cobwebs from my mind, then put on a smile. Small, polite, almost shy. Deferential in the extreme degree.

  “I’m so glad to meet you.” I bow, just a touch lower and longer than I need to. “I’m sorry I wasn’t prepared for your arrival.”

  I guess I’m playing along here if only because I don’t know what else to do.

  I know better than to say, Paul didn’t mention you were coming. That would be casting blame on him, and no one can cast blame on the favored son except for her. At least that’s how these things usually go.

  She holds out her hand and squeezes my fingers briefly. Her expression remains impassive. I get the sense she’s not angry with me but rather with Paul. But she can’t light into him in front of me.

  I know the feeling, because the second she leaves, I’m going to let Paul have it. I don’t care how nice he was about the whole immigration thing, springing a fake engagement on me is not cool.

  Although this is going to make for a terrific story to tell January. I’m sure I’ll laugh about it later, although it’s definitely not funny at the moment.

  “Paul hasn’t told me much about you,” she says. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”

  “I wanted you to meet each other before I said anything.” Paul says that as smooth as anything, as if he’s not lying his ass off right now, right to his mother’s face. I’m impressed in spite of myself.

  “And now we’ve met.” His mother is just as smooth, if quite a bit cooler. “When were you planning on announcing this? I presume you haven’t told your sister yet.”

  There is the smallest flicker around Paul’s eyes. No, his sister has no idea what’s going on. I’ve never met her, but I know she lives around here. And it sounds like I’m about to meet her too. And I’ll have to pretend to be madly in love with her brother. Again.

  Just an hour ago, I thought everything in my life was settled. And now I’m a few weeks away from being deported and I’m fake engaged. As soon as my brain catches up with all this, it’s going to explode.

&nb
sp; Involuntarily my eyes travel over Paul. It won’t be hard to pretend with him, not with his classically handsome appearance. Who wouldn’t fall for a man who looks like a fantasy prince?

  He suppresses the flicker quickly. “I was going to surprise you both.”

  “Yes, he thought it would be nice.” I could bite my tongue off once that comes out of my mouth. I don’t know why I’m trying to support Paul—he’s not the kind of man who springs surprises, and his mother certainly doesn’t look like the kind of woman who’d enjoy them.

  “Hmm.” No, his mother is definitely not into this surprise. She picks up her purse, clearly done with meeting me. “I’m glad Paul finally saw fit to introduce us. We can hear all about your engagement at dinner tonight. Make us reservations at the usual place. I really shouldn’t leave Amelia alone any longer.”

  I don’t know who this Amelia is, but the mention of her name makes Paul’s mouth tighten. It’s not his sister, so who is she?

  As his mother leaves, she gives Paul a peck on the cheek. For me she has a nod. I can tell from the inquisitive spark in her eyes that she’s going to be furiously Googling me the second she walks through the door. I can’t say I blame her.

  She shuts the door quietly behind her, the precision of her gesture a sharper rebuke than a slam would’ve been.

  I stare out at the atrium, counting backward from one hundred, listening for the sounds of her footfalls to fade. When there’s complete silence, I count backward from one hundred once more and then round on Paul.

  “What in the hell?”

  He blinks at me. “I didn’t know that you swore.”

  I curl my hands into fists. He’s gorgeous and wealthy and charming, but that is just about the dumbest thing he could’ve said. “Really? Because I didn’t know we were engaged.”

  His expression flattens. Oh, the prince is displeased with my rebellious attitude. “It was an extreme situation. If you hadn’t been here, I wouldn’t have had to involve you.”