“Elijah,” I breathed the half answer, half prayer.
Chapter 38Alex
“Alexander,” Frank Hamilton said at 4:49, greeting me with a firm clap on my back. “Nice of you to finally join us.”
Fred Houghton, the other equity partner, scowled. “We considered sending directions so you wouldn’t get lost and disappear again.”
I tamped down a surge of resentment. Cocky, arrogant, and entitled, but not angry. Before they offered a seat, I pulled out a chair and manspread. “My father is fine, thanks for asking. And all paperwork was filed by the deadline.”
If something went missing I could have shifted the blame, but it didn't so I claimed the credit like the arrogant prick they believed I was.
“No thanks to you,” Houghton glowered.
“That’s why we have paralegals,” I forced myself to shrug, unimpeachable. “I didn’t see you at the table on Christmas Eve. You sent me because you knew I could negotiate the shit out of the deal, not because you need me to file every paper. That’s called delegation, Fred.”
I’d never called him Fred before, it had always been a respectful 'Mr. Houghton,' but when it slipped out, I met his eyes without backing down.
An hour ago, I’d been ready to give up. But for the first time all week, taking in their smug faces and belittling tone, a new feeling rose in my gut: defiance.
Houghton blinked first, shuffling papers. Hamilton leaned on the table to loom over me. “The clients were livid you left before the deal was signed.”
I leaned back, aggressively casual. “The clients can wipe up their tears with the signed contract. I’m there to make money, not friendship bracelets.”
“You were right, Frank,” Houghton said, lips pressed tightly. “I didn’t believe you when you said he was more ruthless than ever in New York.”
“Alexander, it’s time for your tenure as senior associate to end ...”
My shoulders hunched, ready for them to call security. It took a moment to recognize the wave of emotion that rolled through me …
Relief. Sweet, blissful relief.
“ … so you can take your rightful place as a partner.”
I forced an indifferent expression except for an arrogantly raised brow.
Entitled, Victoria had coached. I’d poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this company. I’d neglected my family, my health, my relationships. I’d walked away from the best thing I’d ever had because I’d earned this promotion. I hadn’t expected it today, but I wouldn’t let it show.
“It’s about fucking time,” I snickered.
Hamilton grinned in the proud dad expression I would have killed for three months ago, but now it raised my suspicions. “I told you he finally manned up. Those two were better than ever in New York.”
Is that why Victoria knew I wouldn’t get fired? Had she teased me because they’d already extended her an offer?
Houghton poured three glasses of bourbon. I pretended to drink mine but didn’t let it past my lips. I wanted to stay clear-headed, especially if they were lowering their guards.
“Is this retroactive? Will I get a partner stake for the merger?”
“What a shark. No fucking way.” Houghton grinned. “But we have another idea for how you can make us all even richer: Managing Partner of our new Entertainment Division.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “You’re adding another practice area?”
Hamilton refilled their glasses. “We have ambitious plans to reach beyond nanotech and fintech. We’re poised to enter the next most lucrative market.”
He slid over an old photograph of me, Victoria, and Nick in his Mercutio costume from that evening’s production of Romeo & Juliet. I posted it on my Facebook profile before Nick’s career exploded and I left social media. My smile was wide enough to take over my whole face. Victoria glowed, her forehead smooth instead of creased with worry and her mouth relaxed Nick looked sweaty and eager after doing what he loved, with an affectionate arm around both our shoulders.
This was the answer to that question Mallory had asked.
This was the last time I’d been happy before I met Grace.
This job had sucked all the joy out of my life.
Hamilton’s voice jarred me out of my reverie. “The Partnership Committee was reviewing your file last month and found this photo from when you were hired. Of course, we didn’t think anything of it at the time, when he was a nobody.” He swished his bourbon. “Imagine our surprise that our senior associate already has an in.”
An in. Not a human, not my brother. An in.
This time I sipped the bourbon to stall, letting it burn down my throat.
“You should have disclosed that relationship,” Houghton chided. “We could have promoted you earlier.”
“Guess I could have skipped those eighty-hour weeks if you’d known my pedigree.” They laughed, missing the bitter edge of my voice.
I’d hustled to prove my worth apart from my brother and it hadn’t meant shit. None of it mattered now that they knew me as Dominic Martin’s brother — no, scratch that. They knew that ‘I have an in’ with him, and by proxy, his show’s cast, production staff, and network executives.
“If your business development efforts prove successful,” Hamilton continued, “you could be equity partner within five years. Your name on the door before you turn 40.”
Everything Victoria and I wanted, unfolding faster than we projected. The culmination of years of hard work within reach.
