“You’re late,” my grandfather says the moment I walk into my office, and I tense, surprised to find him leaning against my desk. His disapproving expression keeps me rooted in place for a few moments longer than it should have, and his mood sours further.
“It’s five to seven,” I tell him, double-checking my watch.
I regret the words the moment they leave my lips, but by then, it’s too late. Grandpa’s eyes harden, and he crosses his arms. “I expect better from my successor, Celeste. I’ve always been the first in the office, and you should be too.”
I take a deep breath and smile politely instead of saying what’s on my mind — that I am the first person in the office, other than him. “Noted,” I say, trying my hardest to add some cheer to my voice. “I’ll come in earlier tomorrow.”
Grandpa nods, seemingly placated, and gestures at my chair. I’m surprised he didn’t seat himself behind my desk when he found it empty. I’d probably have preferred that over having him tower over me like this. My grandfather has always been an intimidating man, but even so, nothing could have prepared me for his intensity at work.
“Tell me what you learned at the Windsor gala,” he asks as I sit down. “Was there anything notable about the hotel?”
Heat rushes to my face at the thought of Zane, and I clear my throat in an effort to clear my mind. “As expected, their latest hotel is pure luxury, down to every last detail. I analyzed everything I could get my hands on, and the results are… unsatisfactory. From what I can tell, a lot of their success comes down to synergy. Most of their locations are cherry-picked by Windsor Real Estate before they’re handed over to Windsor Hotels to develop, and all of their electronics, down to their elevators and automated curtains, are designed by Windsor Motors. Those are just the things they keep in-house. Their collaborations with other brands are unprecedented. Any brand that’s considered luxurious already has an exclusive partnership with the Windsors that they aren’t willing to compromise — right down to the hand cream brand they offer in their hotel bathrooms.”
Grandpa’s eyes flash with anger, and I sigh, bracing myself for yet another lecture. “You aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know, Celeste. I don’t need you to identify the problem — I need you to fix it. I could’ve told you all of this myself.” He straightens and shoots me a disappointed look. “I’m tired of coming second to the Windsors, and I’m done being humiliated by your inability to outperform that Windsor boy. Perhaps my hopes were too high, considering you couldn’t even beat his academic records in school.”
The bitterness in his voice hits me hard, and I can’t help but, feel utterly defeated. “I’ve only been working for you for a few weeks,” I tell him. “Give me a little bit of time, and I’ll come up with a plan. I have full faith that we’ll be able to increase our profits for the year by at least thirty percent. That kind of growth puts us on par with Windsor Hotels in three years. The Bellevue Inn could be a tremendous opportunity for us.”
I spent weeks analyzing our investment opportunities and ended up selecting a small Victorian inn that could be turned into a highly luxurious retreat — the Bellevue. My proposal for it is near-perfect, and if all goes well, Grandpa might actually start trusting me a bit more.
He huffs, his disbelief apparent. “I’ll believe it when I see it. For years, you’ve come second to Zane Windsor, and the gap between you two only increases with time, just like the gap between our companies. Zane started working years ago, while you were out gallivanting in London.” He looks away, agitated. “It’s bad enough that your father decided to forsake his upbringing to become a writer, of all things. If Archer hadn’t been equally stubborn, we’d at least be on the same level as them already.”
I subconsciously wrap my arms around myself, but it doesn’t shield me from the pain Grandpa inflicts by reminding me I’m not his first or second choice. Part of me wants to tell him I’m trying my best, and that he should acknowledge that much at least. Years of being compared to my brother and Zane taught me better than that.
“Do better, Celeste. Considering how much time you spent on that little inn, you’d better finalize the acquisition without delay. It’s an easy enough project, which is why you selected it, isn’t it? There’s nothing wrong with taking on some smaller projects every once in a while, so long as they’re profitable. But we aren’t a small firm. You need to think bigger if you ever want a chance at beating Windsor Hotels.”
I nod demurely, and he takes a step toward my office door. “Grandpa!” I call, the tremor in my voice betraying my nerves.
Grandpa looks back over his shoulder. I hesitate, unsure how to voice my request. “About Lily’s job application,” I begin to say, and he clenches his jaw, annoyance flashing through his eyes.
“I made an exception for you because you’re my granddaughter, Celeste. My company is not a playground. Your friend can apply the way everyone else does, and if she’s good enough to work here, she’ll be hired through the proper routes.” He says it like he hasn’t known Lily for years, like we haven’t been best friends since we were twelve. “You need to learn to separate your private life and work — you’re a Harrison. People will attempt to use you left and right if you let them. You’re too weak. Work on that.”
I nod as he walks out, biting the end of the fountain pen my brother bought me for my twenty-first birthday, wishing I’d done what he did, and walked away from Grandpa’s offer to become his heir and inherit the company.
I didn’t understand why Archer told me that working for Grandpa meant losing him, but I get it now. Grandpa has always been ruthless and demanding, but I hardly recognize him now. If Archer couldn’t meet his expectations, what chance do I stand?
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a disappointment to Grandpa, courtesy of Zane Windsor. I’ve always been unfortunate enough to be in the same classes as him, and no matter how hard I tried, my best was always the equivalent of his bare minimum. For as long as I can remember, he’s taken such great joy in besting me at everything, and now he’ll get to experience that all over again, on a much larger scale this time.
I turn my desk chair and stare out the window, my thoughts drifting back to the gala. What is he playing at? It’s obvious he’s intent on messing with me the way he used to, but he’s crazy if he thinks I’ll take it the way I did in the past. I bite the pen harder as his words resound through my mind.
When I’ve got you on the brink of an orgasm, my name on your lips, I’ll make you eat those words before I make you beg for more. And you will. You’ll beg, just like you did that night.
I pull my pen away and grit my teeth in shame at the memory of prom night. For a few hours, I allowed myself to be as blinded as all the girls that have always surrounded him. The ones I always swore I’d never be like. It was a foolish decision that I live to regret.
I drop my head back against my chair and draw a shaky breath, tormented by my own mind. I should be focusing on the proposal I’m building, but instead, I’m thinking about the way he looked at me when I told him that night was a mistake.
He seemed hurt, even if it was only for a moment. That look he had on his face last weekend… was that how he looked at me when I told him to pretend it never happened? My memories are hazy, marred by my hatred. He’s always done this to me — occupied all my thoughts, though usually for vastly different reasons.
I carefully place my pen back in its holder before reshuffling my papers. Perhaps this was his goal… distract me so much that I can’t focus on the acquisition we’re competing for.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
