by Lucy Score
The event felt like someone’s wedding. White and crystal and sterling silver everywhere. A winter wonderland, she believed the theme was. It had to be $500 a head, which made her wonder exactly how many people here would have been happier to cough up $250 just for the privilege of staying home.
But she supposed being seen supporting a worthy cause was part and parcel of the responsibility of wealth. Aiden and Fast Feet were still chatting near the ice sculpture on the canapes buffet.
A suit sidled up next to her. “So, Franchesca, when are you going to apologize for breaking my nose?”
Elliot might have been trying to be charming, but he came across like a slug oozing slime. He was blond like his mother with finer features than Aiden. He was pretty, not handsome. His presence wasn’t commanding like Aiden’s either. It was more of an afterthought.
“Maybe when you apologize for committing a felony and nearly ruining my best friend’s wedding.”
He gave an elegant shrug of his slim shoulders. “No harm, no foul.”
She swung around to face him. “Lots of harm, lots of foul,” she countered.
“I came over to clear the air. Now that you’re part of the family, we can’t have any bad blood between us. Now, can we?”
“I’m completely fine with lots of bad blood.”
He laughed, but it sounded forced to her ears.
“I think you should dance with me,” Elliot announced.
“Did you get a concussion when I hit you?”
“It’s all about putting on a show.” He held his arm out toward the dance floor. “Don’t you want to prove that you can play the game?”
Frankie downed the rest of her tequila and pointed the empty glass at the bartender. He gave her a nod and started pouring.
“One dance, and you will not grab my ass or piss me off or abduct anyone, got it?”
“My word,” he said, crossing his heart.
He led her onto the floor and settled his hand at her waist. She didn’t particularly care for it. There was only one Kilbourn whose hands she wanted anywhere near her.
She followed his lead, grateful for the three weeks of remedial ballroom dance her high school gym class had forced on students every year.
“So, what do you want, Elliot?”
“Maybe I just want to spend time with my brother’s girlfriend.”
“Or maybe you want something. I like people who cut to the chase and don’t waste my time with flattery or threats.”
“I need something from my brother.”
“So ask him,” Frankie said.
“It’s not that simple,” Elliot argued.
“Yes. It is.”
“I need a favor that’s he’s not going to want to give to me.”
“So why are you dancing with me? You going to twirl me into a van and chloroform me until he agrees to whatever you want?”
“Where did my brother find you?”
“Dancing like a stripper at an engagement party.”
Elliot laughed. “You’re refreshing.”
“And you’re stifling me. Don’t use me to get to Aiden. Be a big boy and talk to your brother.”
The song ended, and Frankie abandoned Elliot in the middle of the floor and headed for the bar. She made it within six feet before she was intercepted.
“Franchesca, my dear. There you are,” Ferris Kilbourn said. “Allow me. A glass of wine for the lady,” he said chivalrously.
Frankie stared mournfully at her two fingers of tequila sitting behind the bar.
“Walk with me, will you?” Ferris suggested, handing her a glass of white wine.
“Certainly.”
She followed him to the edge of the room where a wall of windows and doors overlooked a stone courtyard. He held out a chair for her at an empty table.
Grateful to get off her feet, Frankie flopped down and kicked off her shoes under the table.
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t take offense to the concerns I voiced to Aiden,” Ferris began.
Frankie caught on to his game quickly.
“Concerns?” she said innocently.
“I’m sure you’re a lovely girl,” Ferris began.
“I’m an even better woman.” Frankie didn’t like it when older men tried to put her in the same category as her thirteen-year-old cousin who was obsessed with Harry Styles and Snapchat.
“Of course, of course. What I mean to say is I don’t want you to take it personally that I believe you don’t quite fit into our world. In fact, I’d be very surprised if you didn’t agree with me.” There was no malice behind his words. Manipulation, yes. But no real desire to harm.
She’d spent forty fucking minutes on her makeup for this. She could have troweled on blue eye shadow and bronzer in five minutes instead since they saw her for who she was. A girl from Brooklyn with student loans and no portfolio.
“Then I guess you’d be surprised. I’m not on my way out like some other family members,” Frankie said, staring pointedly across the room at Jacqueline.
Ferris looked flustered for a moment.
There, didn’t expect that, did you smarty pants?
He’d dropped the Aiden bomb knowing full well his son wouldn’t have discussed that particular conversation with her. But she’d gotten a piece back.
“I really don’t think I’m the right person to be having this conversation with. If you’re so concerned with your family, maybe you should plan to stick around.”
Ferris sighed and lifted his glass. “I’ve given enough. It’s my time to enjoy. My father never got the chance. Heart attack in his office at age 71. I don’t want that to be me.”
Frankie turned in her chair to face him. “Ferris, I don’t think anyone would begrudge you your chance to do what you want. But don’t try to dictate Aiden’s life. He’s your son, not just a business partner. Trust his judgment and not just when it comes to broads from Brooklyn.”
He sighed. “I don’t expect you to understand the complications of our family,” Ferris said. “Our business, our family, are inextricably intertwined. There is no one without the other. My son has a responsibility to make choices that will benefit both our company and our family.” Again, his words lacked spite. He was simply a man sharing his truth.
“And which one of those don’t I fit?” Frankie asked.
“Do you even want to fit?” Ferris asked, turning it back on her.
“I want to see Aiden happy.”
“Sometimes, happiness is a luxury that no one can afford.”
Frankie smirked. “I’m pretty certain the Kilbourns could find a way to pay for it.” If Aiden’s deep pockets were any indication of the family coffers, they could all quit working to live in a multi-million-dollar commune in Dubai without ever feeling the pinch.
“I’m just trying to save you some time and heartache,” he added. “I don’t see how a woman who could give a damn about appearances would willingly fit into this world. There are expectations that we must live up to.”
“Would your world really come crumbling down if the girlfriend of your CEO didn’t spend five hundred dollars on her hair and nails every two weeks? Would anyone really care if I show up to a family meal in $25 Target jeans?”
“Frankly, yes,” he laughed. “There are certain expectations that we uphold. To the Kilbourns, work comes first. I missed out on most birthdays, baseball games, even some Christmases. It was the price I had to pay. But I built something that they can have long after I’m gone. Aiden will do the same. And he’ll need a woman by his side who understands that, accepts that, embraces that.”
“Did you ever think that maybe Aiden would rather have a piece of you instead of a legacy?” Frankie suggested. “Maybe he’d rather have dinner with you than you pulling his strings from a goddamn yacht because now he has to suffer for the next twenty years of his life while you finally live.”
“You think I’m very selfish, don’t you?
” Ferris asked.
Frankie put her glass down. “I don’t know you well enough to judge you yet.”
“Touché.”
“Thank you. For the record, I don’t care who you’re divorcing or where you’re sailing. But if you care for your son more than you do a bunch of zeroes and buildings and whatever the hell else, don’t lock him in the same prison you just busted out of.”
Ferris eyed her. “I may have underestimated you.”
“Usually the case. But that makes it easier to win.”
Ferris raised his glass to her. “Maybe you would fit in.”
Frankie tapped her glass to his. “For future reference, I prefer tequila to wine.”
“Franchesca.” Just the sound of Aiden’s voice was like a caress on her skin.
She rose, forgetting that she’d kicked off her shoes under the table. “Oops. Sorry. Too many dances,” she said, fishing the heels out from under the table.
He tugged her into his side. “Are we having a private meeting?” his voice was guarded.
“Your dad and I were just discussing our beverage preferences.”
Ferris rose. “Franchesca, it was… refreshing talking to you.”
“Illuminating,” Frankie agreed. They watched him walk away, joining a group of men clustered around a painting of what looked like a roman orgy.
“Was my father bothering you?”
“Not really. He’s quite polite with the ‘you’re not good enough for my son’ spiel.”
Aiden’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll speak to him.”
She shook her head. “You don’t need to. I told him he better get used to me because I’ve been poking holes in our condoms for weeks, and it’s only a matter of time before he has a grandchild to deal with.”
His booming laugh drew the attention of guests nearby. “Are you ready to go?” Aiden asked, lifting his fingers to toy with one of her earrings.
“God, yes. My feet hurt, and if one more idiot tries to get to you through me, I’m going to break a bottle of Cristal over their smug face.”
“Just give me a head’s up so I can have my attorney on call.”
“Why can’t people just talk to you and ask you for shit?” Frankie muttered.
“Because I’m very powerful and intimidating. And because they see that you have influence over me.”
“Can I influence you to pick up some Thai food on the way home?”
Chapter Forty-Six
“Was it a blood bath?” Oscar asked, handing Aiden a bottle of headache meds as he passed his desk.
“Worse,” Aiden said, fighting the pain that bloomed behind his eyes. Worthington Financial, an accounting consulting firm, hadn’t taken his CIO candidate search criteria seriously and had presented him with the same old, white guys. It had pissed him off enough that Aiden pulled a team off of the sale they were neck-deep in so they could dissect the corporate structure.
With a little digging and some precisely applied pressure, Aiden discovered a rotting culture of harassment and misogynistic behavior. He’d fired seven of the company’s top managers within half an hour. With the newly departeds’ threats of lawsuits still echoing in his ears, Aiden had called a company-wide meeting and announced an immediate restructuring. Two administrative assistants had burst into tears while thanking him. And a junior vice president—exactly the kind of person he wanted for chief information officer—rescinded the resignation that she’d tendered two days ago.
He ordered an independent HR consultant into the wreckage to deal with the internal fallout and warned Kilbourn Holdings lawyers that there was a situation.
“Sacked them all?” Oscar asked. The man loved two things in life. His partner Lewis and juicy corporate gossip.
“Most of them.” Aiden noted the time on his watch. His two afternoon meetings had been juggled into a hasty conference in the car and a late dinner, during which his headache prevented him from eating anything. “It’s late. You should go before Lewis comes looking for you.”
“I’m meeting him for drinks to celebrate another week of his mother not moving in with us.” Oscar pulled his coat from the rack and slid into it. “Don’t work too late,” he reminded Aiden. “I’m sure there’s a Brooklyn girl waiting for you somewhere.”
Just the thought of Frankie lifted Aiden’s spirits. She had a catering gig tonight. One of her last, so they wouldn’t see each other. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t call her.
“Go home, Oscar,” he said again. “And first thing in the morning, you can help start the search for all new senior management. Maybe we can cherry-pick from our own backyard first.”
“Of course. I’ll also be happy to make sure the ones you sacked are unemployable anywhere else.”
“You’re a mean Frenchman, aren’t you?” Aiden said, with a weak smile.
“The meanest.”
Aiden watched Oscar saunter toward the elevators. The rest of the offices were dark. It was nearly nine, and Aiden still had a few hours of work to catch up on. If he could get ahead of the headache… and stop thinking about the events of the day.
Two of the men had cried when he’d pulled the trigger. None were innocent, but there was something unsatisfying about punishing someone who felt like a victim.
“I have two kids in college,” one had pleaded.
“Then you shouldn’t have ordered HR to ignore the complaints against you and your colleagues,” Aiden had said briskly. He was efficient and cold. Merciless. It was more intimidating that way when he treated people like gnats who mattered too little to bother getting angry over.
On the inside, he was anything but cold. These men had created a work environment so hostile that it was a wonder they had any employees left.
It was the right decision. Perhaps a bit abrupt, but it would set the tone for the coming year. They were a new acquisition, and this was the fastest way to send the message that Kilbourn Holdings would not tolerate anything less than equality, anything other than fairness.
Having to defend his decision to his father on the phone hadn’t helped.
Ferris agreed that “something” should have been done, just not now and certainly not by making such a statement. “We’re already dealing with enough transition,” he’d argued. “I don’t see why you would have taken on a project of this magnitude that will only take your attention away from more important things.”
In other words, Ferris felt like the women should have toughed it out a little longer, at least until he was on his boat smoking a cigar without a care in sight.
Aiden not-so-respectfully disagreed and said as much.
He wanted to go home. Scratch that. He wanted to go to Franchesca’s and lay next to her in bed until everything felt right again.
“Well, if it isn’t my all-work-and-no-play brother,” Elliot said snidely from Aiden’s doorway.
And just like that, Aiden’s night got worse.
“Look who stopped avoiding my calls.” Since their father had made his decision to step down, Aiden had been trying to schedule a meeting with Elliot. And, until tonight, his half-brother had been avoiding him.
He was dressed for going out. A blazer with velvet lapels and a jaunty plaid bow tie. He looked like an overindulged idiot.
Elliot brushed a speck of lint from his shoulder. “Sorry, boss. I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what, exactly?” Ferris had allowed Elliot to hold a title and kept an office available to him should his brother show any signs of interest in the business.
Elliot slunk into the chair in front of Aiden’s desk and propped his shiny loafers on the surface. “A little of this. A little of that.”
“Let’s cut to the chase. From now on, you’re required to be a contributing member of this family, of this business.”
Elliot sneered at him. “You want more work out of me? I want a bigger office and an assistant. I want to have a say in operations.”
Aiden remained imp
assive. “You earn those things by proving yourself. Not by having the right last name.”
“Fine. Then buy me out.” Elliot crossed his arms smugly. He named a figure that was far too precise to have come from thin air. “That’s the price to get me out of your hair.”
“That is not an option.” As much as Aiden would love to write the bastard a check right here and now, he’d promised his father a year. An entire year to give Elliot the chance to prove himself and fail.
“Then I’ll sell them to someone else.”
Aiden stared his brother down. “You’d better think long and hard before you do anything irreversible. Kilbourns hold the majority. If you sell off your percentage, that would no longer be the case. It would put the company at risk.”
Elliot shrugged, but Aiden saw the beads of sweat on his forehead. Elliot was many things, most of them terrible and offensive, but his desire to be recognized as a valuable Kilbourn came first at all times. If something had him scared enough to sell off his only piece of the pie, it must be quite the threat indeed. It made Aiden almost curious enough to start digging.
“If you want to continue to see a paycheck, you’re going to have to do something to earn it. I don’t care if that means you’re making coffee in the breakroom or you’re emptying trashcans in the conference room. You will contribute, or you won’t have a place here.”
“You’ve been dying to get rid of me since I was born,” Elliot whined. “Now’s your chance.”
“One year. You know where this company is going. What the future looks like. You’d be an idiot to sell now.”
“Some of us don’t have a choice,” Elliot hissed, he dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward in his chair. “Some of us were never the favorite. Some of us had to settle for scraps. And some of us do what we have to in order to survive.”
“You’ve been handed everything you ever wanted,” Aiden pointed out.
“Not everything. And the rest was never enough. So you’re going to buy me out, or I’m going to that pretty little girlfriend of yours and tell her exactly why your friend Chip broke her best friend’s heart all those years ago.”