“Isla asks about Kinsley sometimes. I’ve heard her say she wants to see her mom.”
“Of course she asks. She’s a smart girl and she knows her mother is out there somewhere. But all the adults know better than to hope Kinsley comes back around. It would just be trouble.”
Saffron is about to say more. But then she frowns and looks down, producing a sleek cell phone from her purse. She checks the caller ID and then pulls a face.
“Sorry, I should answer this. I’ll be right back.” She slips away from the table, looking irritated.
I slump back against my chair as I try to process everything I’ve found out. Frankly, I feel bad for everyone involved: Saffron, Isla, Keir, even Kinsley’s lousy, partying ass. She might be an awful mom… but I don’t know what she’s been through or why she made such poor choices in life.
I’m sure there is a reason, though I doubt that knowing it will make Kinsley seem more sympathetic. After all, I’ve seen Isla in action. There is very little that would make Kinsley’s decisions seem more sane.
All I know is that I need to keep being gentle with Isla. Also, Saffron's tale makes me realize that I could also stand to be a little more patient with Keir.
He might be a stubborn, bullheaded asshole sometimes, but I can show him a tiny bit more grace and understanding.
I can try, anyway.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KEIRAN
I have to admit I had a nice time with Isla yesterday. An amusement park full of inflatable slides and trampolines and ball pits with screaming kids jumping out around every corner wasn’t how I envisioned spending my afternoon. Still, it was worth it to see the way Isla’s little face light up when she got to bounce and play as roughly as she wanted.
There were no angry principals or disappointed teachers to be seen. It was a fun afternoon filled with laughter and topped with a generous scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream on the ride home.
I definitely need to set aside more one-on-one time with her. But I won’t have time for anything with anyone ever again if I don’t hire a new assistant.
Trying to stay on top of everything by myself is impossible. God only knows how many meetings I missed yesterday thanks to Saffron coming over early and turning my schedule upside down.
Thinking about yesterday’s interruption is making me irritable all over again as I walk into the NewsCorp headquarters. It’s also irritating to be walking into the building alone when I should have an assistant by my side taking notes and reading my schedule to me.
“Good morning, Lord Grayrose,” the receptionist in the main lobby calls out as I walk past. The handful of staffers who’d been loitering around her central desk have already scattered like roaches but I can see them already sneaking back to chat and gossip as I step into the elevator.
This is when I’d have my assistant write down their names so we could send out a round of passive aggressive emails later to complain about productivity.
Fuck, it’s like all my favorite perks have been taken away.
The elevator doors open up onto the executive floor and I freeze in my tracks as soon as I step off onto the polished marble tiles. The last two people in the world I want to see are standing in front of me—and of course they’re both so preoccupied they don’t even notice I’m here.
My father and my brother are both standing by the large reception desk, facing away from me. My father is peering at his phone as per usual. Every since cell phones were invented, my father has been preoccupied with something on one.
But his distraction has been a constant in my life. Before cell phones, there were still newspapers and books. Now it’s just easier for my father to ignore the people in his life.
My brother James leans both elbows on the desk, smirking at the woman working there. “What’s your name, darling?”
The dark haired young woman tucks her hair behind her ear, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Beth, sir.”
“Well, Beth. You should let me take you out. I can get a seat at any table in the whole city. Followed by, presumably, you giving me the best fellatio ever—“
“James!” I bark.
My brother stands upright, tensing. But he relaxes again when he sees it’s me.
“Finally,” he says. “The prodigal son returns.”
“Leave the poor young lady alone,” I wave my brother away from a grateful looking secretary. “She’s just trying to do her job without getting drooled all over by the likes of you.”
James crosses his arms, his expression petulant. “Fuck off, big brother.”
I turn my attention to my father, who is just now looking up from his phone. “Did the two of you have an appointment? Or are you just here to harass my staff?”
“Since when do I need an appointment to see my own brother?” James’ tone is dripping with sarcasm as he pointedly turns back to the secretary. “Is he always like this in the morning? How do you put up with it?”
Our father clears his throat and stands up to give me an indignant look that I know all too well. “I’m sure it’ll probably come as a surprise to you, son, but this company was around for decades before you took over. This used to be my office, in fact. So try to show some bloody respect.”
Respect?
As they’re both standing here disrespecting me and my team? It would be laughable if it wasn’t so damned annoying. Besides, I wouldn’t want to deprive my father of his favorite game—reminding me that I was handed the reins of the company on a silver platter instead of building the place from the ground up with my bare hands or some such stupid nonsense.
“Come on.”
I usher them through the spacious waiting area and herd them down the hallway to my corner office. Closing the door after myself, I turn to find my father already making himself comfortable in my chair. My brother sinks into the middle a leather couch near the window, leaving me the choice of an overstuffed wingback chair or the sleek metal office chair facing the desk.
I opt to lean against my desk, giving my brother and father a haughty look.
“Why are you here? Don’t you have somewhere else you can whine about respect? Campaign headquarters, for instance?”
My father steeples his fingers, leaning back in my expensive office chair and looking insulted.
“If your grandfather heard you talking to me like this, he would take the company back from you,” he growls.
I sigh, intentionally checking the time on my watch before rebuking my father.
“Grandfather told me that you were in charge for about six months before he took control away from you again,” I shoot him a scornful look. “But sure, you can tell me and James all about the good old days, Dad. Tell me how it felt to lose NewsCorp in less than a year.”
My father’s eyes go wide, his nostrils flaring. “Keiran Oliver Grayrose! I swear, I’m going to—”
“What?” I hiss, cutting him off mid-sentence. “What are you going to do to me? Hm?”
A muscle tics in my father’s clenched jaw. He glares at me for several seconds. I let the moment stretch, making it obvious that he doesn’t have a comeback.
“I think you should loosen up,” James grouses. “For fuck’s sake, live a little.”