Page 86 of Sealing the Deal

So why does doing the right thing suddenly feel so wrong? Why does every breath feel emptier without her?

I glance at the clock on the wall. The board meeting starts in ten minutes. The vote to make me CEO is a formality. Locked in before I even set foot back in New York. It shouldn’t even be me. I walked away from this firm over a decade ago. Barely spent more than a few months working here before I realized change from within was impossible. Helena was the one who stayed. She knew everything there was to know about Ashborne Holdings. If my father’s heart attack had happened six years ago, it would be Helena sitting here right now. No contest. But just like I can’t ask Flic to change her life for me and come to New York, I can’t ask Helena to take the CEO position of Ashborne Holdings, either.

My father didn’t just destroy her career when he married her off to a wife-beater. My father, and that man, destroyed not only Helena’s confidence and her worth, they destroyed a part of her soul that will never heal. When the dust settles here, I’ll ask her again if she’ll join Grayson Global. We’ll need her there more than ever now I’m taking on this role. Her reluctance to join me was always around not antagonizing our father. If that’s no longer an issue, I hope she’ll accept. But I’d never push her to come back to Ashborne Holdings after what happened the last time.

And she’d be the only other person I’d trust to run this company. If I walk away, someone else will step into this office. Someone who didn’t grow up watching our father destroy lives. Someone who might run Ashborne Holdings exactly the way he did. Which leaves me.

I sink back into the chair behind the desk, the weight of it all pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. Ten minutes. And the rest of my life.

My phone buzzes again. My heart leaps, hope flaring before I can stop it. For half a second, I think it’s Flic. Instead, Donny’s name appears.

DONNY: The paperwork’s ready. Gotta ask one more time—are you sure about this?

Another message follows almost immediately.

DONNY: Answer my calls. I get what you’re doing, but I want to make sure you’re OK.

I stare at the screen, throat tight. Donny’s concern hits harder than the board’s expectations ever could. Before I can reply, the door to the office swings open, and Helena strides in. She’s wearing an immaculate gray suit, looking every inch the businesswoman.

“This whole old boys’ club thing is getting seriously boring,” she says, folding her arms and raising her eyebrows. “Six years ago, I was practically running this company alongside our dear father while you were building skyscrapers in Dubai. And yet, who do they ask to run Ashborne Holdings now? You.”

I stare back at my sister. It’s exactly the thought I had minutes ago, but it still throws me. “I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with Ashborne Holdings anymore.”

She scoffs. “I didn’t want to work with him anymore.” Her eyes flash. “You think you’re the only one who wants to change the Ashborne legacy?” She steps closer, voice lowering, but gaining force. “I want to do good with this company, Grayson. I want to rebuild communities. Protect struggling businesses the way you do with Grayson Global. And yeah, a big part of my motivation is because I’m going to really enjoy how much it will piss our father off from his death bed, or from the grave, and quite frankly I don’t care which, but it’s also the right thing to do, and I want to do the right thing.”

I rub a hand over my face, exhausted even as my pulse is thundering. “You want to be CEO of Ashborne Holdings?”

“Yes.”

“You know if it was down to me, I’d want you to run this place too. But the board⁠—”

She laughs. “Sorry, Grayson. I guess I didn’t make myself clear. I don’t just want to be the CEO of Ashborne Holdings. I will be the next CEO. All your friends and spies in this company are actually my friends. I still have leverage on the board,” she replies coolly. “I need one more vote to swing it my way.”

The floor feels like it drops out from under me. I never thought Helena would want this, but of course she does. This is more her legacy than it’s ever been mine.

“One more vote?” I ask slowly. “As in mine?”

She smirks. “Only if you’re OK to let someone else be the hero for a change.”

I study her face, searching for doubt and finding none. “It’s yours,” I say. “If you’re sure. I can stay and help however you need.”

She rolls her eyes. “All I need is for you to get out of my chair.”

A light exhale of laughter escapes me, and I stand, legs weak with relief. I gesture at the desk as she moves past me to claim it, already at home in the space. I grab my phone and my jacket. For the first time since I got her call yesterday, I feel like I can breathe. Helena’s the right person to do this. I’m more than OK with letting someone else save the day.

For years, I thought I was on my own. That only I could save the day. But I’ve been hiding behind doing good, pushing myself to fix everyone and everything, because it’s easier than slowing down and thinking about what I want. Choosing myself. That’s what Flic has done to me. She stood by my side without hesitation. Without needing anything from me. And it turns out that’s exactly what I needed to finally put on the brakes and think. Breathe.

And what I want—what I need—is in Denver.

I have to get back. I have to find Flic and tell her I love her. That I can’t do this without her. I still have work here, still have responsibilities, but none of it matters if I lose her. Guilt and fear flood my body. I walked away from her yesterday when she needed me most. I chose my family and my old life, and no matter how I dress it up, I put her second. The thought twists in my chest. What if I broke something between us for good? What if asking her to trust me again is one thing even love can’t fix?

I pull out my phone and fire an email to the other board members, telling them my vote, and putting all my faith in Helena. I’m halfway out the door when I turn back to Helena. “Call me if you need me.”

“I won’t,” she singsongs. “Now, go get your girl.”

I grin, barely standing still enough to wait for the elevator. Outside, New York slams into me. The street is noise and people. Traffic snarled bumper to bumper, horns blaring, engines idling impatiently. The air is cold and damp, rain hanging just shy of falling, misting my face as people in dark suits hurry past with umbrellas tucked under their arms and phones pressed to their ears. Everything smells like wet concrete and exhaust and urgency.

I step onto the curb, already scanning for a cab, ready to flag down the first one I see. I don’t want to wait for a driver. I want to move. I want to go.