“Well, that’s enough chit chat,” Miles says, breaking me from my reverie. “Jackson, where are the reports you were supposed to send us?”
For a moment I don’t say anything.
“Hello? The quarterly reports for the Madrid properties?”
“Yeah, I didn’t get them either,” Rex adds.
I fumble through the files on my computer. I did look at it last night. I thought I’d sent it. Or had I meant to look at it one more time early this morning before sending?
“I have it, I just needed to confirm a couple of numbers,” I say.
“Somebody didn’t do his homework,” Rex chides.
“Jackson, I need that report for my meeting with the investors at noon,” Miles says.
“I said I have it,” I snap. I’m frantically clicking through the files. I don’t get rattled. It’s one of the things Father instilled in us—the ability to roll with the punches (both literal and figurative). He was known to damage our sporting equipment before big matches just to see how we’d handle the sudden crisis.
“Has finance seen it?” Miles asks. “Because you know it has to through them before I can present it here in New York.”
Shit, how could I forget that? I should have sent it last night before I went to dinner with Emily. This is a significant screw up.
“What’s wrong with you, Jackson?” Miles asks. “My meeting is in two hours. What am I supposed to do?”
“Frank is going to be pissed,” Rex unhelpfully adds. “He hates having his time wasted.”
“We all do,” Miles says. “Not to mention it makes me look like I’m slacking on my job. Thanks a lot, Jackson.”
“I said I’d get it to you as soon as I can.”
“You better hope it’s in time for my meeting,” Miles says. “Will I even have time to review it or are you going to send it two seconds before the meeting? It starts at noon.”
“I know what time your meeting starts.”
“Do you?” Miles sits back in his chair, exasperated. “God, you don’t care about anyone but yourself. I’m so glad Father amended his will because you’d run this company into the ground.”
“Watch yourself, Miles,” I say. “You both can say what you want about me but don’t question my abilities in this company.”
“You’re proving him right,” Rex pipes in. “You don’t have the report—basic stuff, Jackson.”
“Your entire life you’ve had this chip on your shoulder,” Miles says. “You don’t just think you’re better than me and Rex, you think you’re better than everyone. And on one of my most important meetings of the quarter you can’t get me what I need.”
“I’ve contributed more to this company than the two of you combined,” I say, the heat flowing up me faster than I can possibly contain it. They have no idea the sacrifices I’ve made for the sake of Croft International. “Do not question my ability and do not question my authority.”
“God, you can’t help yourself,” Miles says. “Selfish and arrogant as always.”
“You still can’t see it, big brother,” Rex says. “You have no authority over us anymore. There was the idea that you would someday, but that day is over.”
I can see the glow of the morning sun behind him, three hours earlier in Los Angeles, and something about that whole dawning of a new day gets me. He’s right. It’s like my whole future is down to a foot race between my brothers and me.
Whoever makes it to the altar first, wins.
“I can’t even stand to look you bastards right now,” Rex says. “Is there anything else? Another thing Jackson screwed up or some more fortune cookie words of wisdom you want to share, Miles?”
“Do you have to be a dick every second of the day?” Miles shoots back.
Rex chuckles. “What can I say, you bring out the best in me.”
“That’s it,” I tell them, raising my voice. “Do I always have to be the grown up here? Stop acting like children.”
Now Miles leans towards the screen. “Send me those reports.”
“You don’t give the orders around here,” I warn him. My temper is flaring up and I feel my emotions starting to give way.
“Neither do you, anymore,” Miles reminds me. “So let’s just agree on one thing: we don’t talk to each other again unless absolutely necessary.”
“I’m good with that,” Rex says.
“That’s fine,” I say. I don’t need to see their faces again or hear their voices. Especially with this new boastful attitude they have. “We’ll stop these regular video conferences and communicate only when necessary and only through our assistants.”
“Great,” Miles says.
“Agreed,” Rex says.
“That’s it then,” I say, and with that, I push the button that ends the conference and erases their smug faces from the room.
I let out a deep breath, collapsing back against my chair. My brothers and I never get along and these calls are always continuous, but that was a real shit show. Not only did I drop the ball on the reports I was supposed to have sent out, but I lost my cool. A man can only be pushed so much and God knows my brothers know what buttons to push.
A text pings on my phone. My heart clenches when I see it’s from Emily.
Thanks again for last night. Totally amazing on all counts.
I stare at the words for a moment, Emily’s face floating through my mind. My instinct has been to get back to her as quickly as possible. Drop everything and have her by my side.
She has my mind spinning—spinning so much that even after just one night I’m already slipping on the job.
What would happen if I actually dated her seriously or, God forbid, married her? Even though I can see it, that stupid, childish institution of marriage with Emily Brown, I shake it from my head. If I do what Father’s will asks and marry to keep the company, I need someone who doesn’t make me screw up on the job. Emily wouldn’t help me with the company—she could only hurt me.
How ironic that the one woman I’ve found who stands out from the rest is the exact woman I know I can’t afford to get wrapped up with.
No distractions—not now, not ever.
But especially not now.
I look back at the text, sitting there on my phone. I picture Emily at the other end of that text, waiting for me to reply, probably excited and nervous, wondering what I’ll say and when we’ll see each other again.
No, I can’t have that. I can’t spend time with these flirting games, texting each other on the sly in meetings and planning fun outings. I
have a job to do, and now it’s two-fold: keep my end of the business running smoothly like I always have, and find a way to beat my brothers to the top of this company.
What I need is a woman who’s already used to my lifestyle—someone refined, elegant, someone who understands social etiquette and doesn’t get excited by little things like a private dining room.
Someone who dresses the part, speaks the part, a blue blood through and through.
I need someone like the girls I grew up with, the ones I met at the socials when we’d bus over to Dana Hall, the girls’ boarding school not far from my own. They were beautiful, well spoken, had hobbies like equestrian, and were basically being groomed for a life of social galas and luncheons. It’s a life we’d both understand.