Shane

By the time I get home, Nick’s accusations are still echoing in my mind, keeping time with the frantic beat of my heart. Not that I have much time to dwell on them, given the second I walk through the door, Harold’s already standing there waiting for me.

“Welcome home, Mr. Montgomery. Your father wishes to speak with you now. He’s in his office.”

“Well, hello to you too, Harold.” I force a casual smile, relying on years of practice to mask how unsettled I really am. The fact I’m being summoned like this can only mean one thing—Nick was right. Charles Kline is watching, and he’s displeased enough he called my father. “I see he’s got you working late again.”

“You were my final task for the evening. You’ll find your own way?”

“Of course. Have a good night, Harold.” I open the door for him, standing aside to watch as he leaves, not closing it until he’s crossed the portico and entered the small apartment over the garage that’s been his home since he started working for my father nearly a decade ago.

I’m stalling, I realize. My mind racing through all plausible scenarios, trying to prepare for a conversation I’m not ready to have. When Nick called me a coward, I’m ashamed to admit he was right about that, too. That’s why I force myself to take one step, then another, until I’m standing outside my father’s office, determined to do what I should have done from the start.

“Shane. Have a seat.” It’s as friendly a greeting as any when it comes to my father.

“Hi, dad. How was your—”

“Care to tell me where you’ve been? I took the liberty of calling Coach Shine. He said you skipped the gym today.”

I relax my shoulders, settling comfortably against the back of the wingback chair as if I don’t have a care in the world. “Yeah, I did. I had a conflicting appointment, and after going over my training schedule, Coach Shine agreed I was due a rest day.”

“Hmm,” he hums under his breath, stilling his pen only briefly before continuing to sign the back page of what looks like a contract. Once done, he tucks the thick stack of papers into a file folder and adds it to the pile already stacked on the corner of his desk. “What kind of appointment?”

“A peer advisory meeting. That student I mentioned before—she’s got a big microeconomics presentation due tomorrow. I was helping her prepare.” Talking about Becca like she’s nothing more than a job makes me feel like a complete asshole, but I promised her I’d keep our relationship a secret, so for now, this is how it has to be.

“This student, it wouldn’t happen to be Becca Franks, would it?”

“Yes, that’s right.” I try my damnest to appear unphased, but I can tell he notices the slight twitch in my arms from my hands itching to dry my sweat-laden palms on the fabric of my jeans.

“Is there anything I should know about you and this girl?”

“No. Why do you ask?” I do my best to keep my expression neutral as his eyes scrutinize me, searching for my tells. It’s in moments like this I’m grateful for my parents’ relentless training, the constant reminders that helped me perfect the mask of indifference so crucial in our world.

“Amanda’s father reached out to me this evening. He’s concerned about your relationship with the Franks girl. Concerns that, after speaking with him, your mother and I now share.” He clasps his hands on his desk and lifts his brow, waiting to see how I’ll defend myself from their accusations. This too is part of the game. Every interaction with my parents is a test, another opportunity for them to shape and mold me in their image, because to them, how you present yourself, and how others perceive you are the only things that matter.

“You’ll have to be more specific. Given my role as her peer advisor, I’m not sure what exactly the concern is.”

“Is it true you covered her shifts at that diner this past weekend?”

“Yes. I waited her tables while she sat at the back and worked on her project. It’s part of the agreement we made with Mr. Blair. We’ve got until the end of the marking period to ensure she maintains an A in all her classes.”

As he considers my response, the room falls into a tense silence.

“And today? Your car was seen parked outside her place, where as I understand it, she lives alone. Were you inside her apartment?”

Unable to stop it, I swallow involuntarily and pray he doesn’t notice. “I was. We went over her talking points and practiced her presentation. I left as soon as we were done.”

“Hmm.” He leans back in his chair, his brow creasing with obvious disapproval. “So, it’s finished then? There’s no reason for you to go back over there, correct?”

Shit.

“Dad, what is this really about?” I press, needing him to cut to the chase so I can redirect the conversation toward what truly matters—the topic that will turn this entire discussion on its head, deeming it irrelevant.

“Charles and I are concerned. Your actions as of late, reflect poorly on your relationship with Amanda, which in turn reflects badly on both of our families. You’re a smart young man, Shane. I shouldn’t have to explain the importance of discretion, especially when it comes to women and fulfilling certain… male urges.”

What the fuck?

“Wait, hold on, Dad. I told you; tonight was about school. Nothing more. And about Amanda, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

“Oh?”

Crap!

Stay calm. Be direct. Stick to the facts. Focus on the logic behind your decision. Make him see that this is all part of your growth toward becoming the man and leader he wants you to be.

Sitting up, I clasp my hands together and clear my throat. “Amanda and I broke up about a year ago.” As is his way when someone says something that displeases him, his glare grows more pointed, casting a shadow over the room with his silence. “Initially, it was to be a break of sorts. We were to take some time apart, to gain new experiences, meet other people. To get a taste of life outside of each other, so when it came time to settle down after college, we would be ready.”

“A year ago, you say?”

“That’s right. Since then, not much has changed. We’re still friends and still hang out occasionally. We’re just no longer in a relationship.”

“And why am I only finding out about this now?” 

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if she and I could follow through and stay apart. We’ve been together for so long, it just felt like something we should try on our own, without outside interference. It wasn’t our intent to hide it, though looking back, I realize I should have told you months ago.”

“So, this break up… am I to understand that it’s only temporary? Just until you’ve both graduated college and are ready to assume your respective roles?” Inwardly, I cringe at his assumption, but I keep my mask firmly in place.

“That was the original plan, yes. But now…” I choose my words carefully, even though I already know there’s no easy way to say it. “I don’t believe we have a future together. We’re not in love, and, at this point, we’re better off as friends.”

I’m not prepared for the uncontrollable burst of laughter that erupts from him. It’s so far from the response I was expecting I just sit there in stunned silence.

“Love? That’s what this is about?” He chuckles again, but there’s no warmth in it. “Marriage isn’t about love, kid. It’s about partnerships. Mutually beneficial arrangements entered into by two parties who are in it for what the union can do for them.” No longer looking amused, he stands abruptly. Given the escalating tension rolling off of him in waves, I’m not at all surprised when he heads to the bar and pours himself a drink.

“Look, you’re young, so I can understand why you might be confused. But here’s the reality: this is business. Your marriage to Amanda won’t just secure your future—it will expand our business, our power, and our influence. By the time you’re thirty, you’ll be the head of not one, but two business empires worth billions. The decision has already been made for you, Shane. If you need the next few years to get this nonsense out of your system, so be it. But know this: when Charles and I decide it’s time, you need to be ready. There is no other choice.”

He returns to his seat and takes a long sip of the dark brown liquid. Setting the glass down on the wooden desk, he reaches for another stack of file folders, flipping one open as if he’s ready to get back to work. “In the meantime, when it comes to your extracurricular activities, I’d advise you to be discreet. The women of our world know what men like us get up to, and they are far more tolerant of our indiscretions when we keep them hidden behind closed doors. Keep that in mind going forward.” Without sparing me another glance, he picks up his pen, signaling my dismissal without a single word.

Stunned, I do as he expects and make my way out of the room. While there’s much I want to say, experience has taught me now isn’t the time. Every decision my father makes is about expanding either the growth of our business or the power and prestige that come with our family name. Changing his mind will require finding another way to fulfill his agenda. A tall order, for sure, but I’m nothing if not stubborn and persistent. Taking the helm of The Montgomery Group has always been a part of my legacy but taking over Kline Global Technologies—aside from stepping up to help both Nick and Amanda—was never a part of my plan.

“Oh, and Shane…” His voice stops me just as I reach the door. “After today’s little incident, Charles requires some assurances. He’s proposed we meet for dinner. You, me, him, and Amanda, just to clear the air and make sure we’re all on the same page.” It takes all of my strength to keep my expression blank to not give away the sudden burst of defiance swelling within me.

“Understood. Just let me know when, and I’ll be there.”

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Author’s Note:

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Should Shane tell Becca his parents' plans for an arranged marriage, even though he doesn't plan to go through with it? 

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