Page 20 of Shattered Throne
I couldn't lose everything.
The trust fund, fine. I could theoretically survive without the money, though the thought made me break out in a cold sweat. But it wasn't just the money. It was my name, my access, my place in this world. It was the safety net I'd never had to think about because it had always been there.
What would I be without all of it? Who would I be?
Damn it. I was being too poetic tonight. Might as well just write a book about this. I drained the whiskey and went to bed.
I lay there for twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling. My mind wouldn't stop churning.What would I do? Where would I find a wife? What’s going to happen to me now?I threw off the covers and got up.
My home office was a room I barely used. It had a desk I'd bought because it looked impressive and a chair I'd never sat in, and bookshelves filled with books I'd never read. Decoration, mostly.
I turned on the lamp and opened my laptop.
Kim had sent me files earlier that day. Acquisition targets, financial projections, and market analyses. I'd glanced at them this afternoon and felt my eyes glaze over.
I opened them again.
The first file was a breakdown of the Southeast portfolio. Hotels in Florida and Georgia, their current valuations, and their potential for development. Kim had highlighted the key points and added notes in the margins, translating the financial jargon into something approaching plain English.
I read it. All of it. Then I read it again.
The second file was more complicated. Ownership structures, LLC filings, and a web of corporate entities that made my head spin. But Kim had included a summary, a roadmap through the chaos, and I followed it step by step.
By the time the sky started to lighten, I'd made it through three of seven files. My eyes burned. My back ached from hunching over the laptop. I'd gone through half a pot of coffee, and my hands were shaking from the caffeine.
But I understood it. Not perfectly, not like Sebastian would, but enough to speak intelligently about it. At least I wouldn’tlook like a complete idiot at the next meeting. That had to count for something. Maybe if I could get the business aspect right, Grandmother would abandon this ridiculous idea of getting a wife.
But even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
Getting dressed for work had become a kind of torture.
I'd spent my adult life in dress shirts and stylish slacks Sebastian could never dream of pulling off, but here I was, standing in front of my closet, staring at the row of business suits I'd accumulated over the past three months. Charcoal, navy, black, gray. I pulled on a white shirt and immediately felt the collar tightening around my throat. The fabric was stiff against my skin.
The tie was worse. I stood in front of the mirror, fumbling with the knot, getting it wrong three times before it looked passable. The silk felt like a noose. I loosened it immediately, undoing the top button of my shirt so I could breathe.
Better. Marginally.
I shrugged into my jacket and examined my reflection. The suit fit perfectly. Tailored to my exact measurements, skimming my shoulders, tapering at the waist. I looked the part.
I felt like a child playing dress up. I tugged at my collar again. The gesture was supposed to create space, give me room to breathe, but it never quite worked. No amount of adjusting would fix the fact that I didn't belong in this costume.
I grabbed my keys, headed out the door, and drove to the office.
It was quiet when I arrived. Most people didn't show up until nine, which meant I had a few precious minutes to settle in before the chaos began.
Kim was already at her desk.
She glanced up when I approached, and her eyes widened slightly. She probably hadn't expected me before nine. Hell, a week ago,Iwouldn't have expected me before nine.
"Good morning, Mr. Dubois."
"Xavier." I'd told her that three times now. She kept ignoring it. "Is that coffee?"
"I'll get you some."
"You don't have to…" But she was already rising, heading for the break room. I watched her go. Ponytail swinging, sensible shoes stomping softly on the carpet. I shook my head and went into my office.
The files from last night were still open on my laptop. I'd added more notes this morning, questions I wanted to ask Sebastian, points I needed to clarify. The stack of papers had multiplied, spreading across every available surface like a virus.
