Nolen

Our parents always pitted Mason and me against each other. They always reminded us who did better at what. I wasn’t welcome in that home and I knew that. If I didn’t serve my purpose, and serve it well, I may not have a home anymore, so I worked and worked to prove myself. Mason fell behind, not even that far, but enough for our parents to hound him about it. Regardless, the bastard has a holier than thou complex, believing that he still deserved to be CEO more than me for stupid reasons. That’s why Father announced publicly that I would take over years ago.

My stepmother and Mason have never changed his mind. All the gods ever written about could demand our father to change his mind, and he’d tell them no as fiercely as anyone else. I suppose that is where we both get our stubborn nature from, which many of our business partners compliment, though I find it to cause more trouble than it’s worth. Particularly between us.

Stepping out of the car, I meet with Louis in the parking lot. We head in for a meeting that’s more than likely going to turn into a gossip fest, and yet, they’ll complain about their wives gossiping with friends over lunch as if it’s any different. Mason’s at the meeting, sitting next to a few well-known advocates for him. He smiles like our father, charming to those who don’t know better, conniving for those who do. His eyes scan over me, then Louis, who would give him the finger if we were alone. Here, Louis merely offers a cordial smile that mirrors my own.

I take my spot across from Mason, feigning interest when he says, “Glad you could make it, Nolen. It has been a few weeks since we’ve had a company meeting. I worried Louis wasn’t handling your scheduling very well.”

“If you are questioning my capabilities, then do so honestly, Mr. Ackley. Don’t fear that you may offend me. I am open to constructive criticism,” Louis speaks with a calm tone that would make any believe he was sincere.

“I would never imply such a thing, Louis,” Mason replies, smiling until the bridge of his nose wrinkles. “Everyone knows that our CEO’s secretary is the most capable there has ever been.”

Louis returns the fake and cheery smile. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I apologize for not being here as often as I would hope, Mason. I’ve been busy acquiring the Garden View hotel chain, which needs a bit of TLC, but I see it as becoming a great addition,” I reply, noting the twitch in Mason’s fingers grasping his glass.

My brother maintains a calm facade as others speak around us concerning the hotels that he was adamant we avoid. Should they do well, that will make me look better for pushing towards them and him worse for refusing. This constant game of cat and mouse is exhausting. I wish we didn’t play it, but the fire in Mason’s eyes tells me he’ll always be aiming for my throat until the day we die. I’d stop, but I know he won’t. He never has. He has always been there, nipping at my heels, forcing me to run and run and run, and I’m so fucking tired.

What makes things worse is that Mason’s exceedingly good at his job. Money is his business and much of what I do works because Mason knows how to play the game. Not that I’d ever admit that to him. He’d twist my words, using them as an excuse to give the board that he’s better fit to be CEO, or something equally ridiculous. Often, I regret recommending him for the position when Father was adamant he manage another department, but then he exceeds expectations and I’m annoyed that he’s so good at it.

“And how is the acquisition of Garden View doing, Mr. Ackley?” someone asks, pulling me into a conversation.

As I speak, my gaze drifts across the table in search of Kenneth. He sits at the end speaking to our COO. I divert my attention back to whom I’m speaking with because approaching Kenneth about his meeting with Mason would be a bad idea. He has the right to speak to our CFO, and I don’t need Mason feeling triumphant for putting me on edge.

A waiter approaches me when the conversation dulls to ask, “Are you ready to order, Sir?”

“Ah, right.” I grab my phone to check my texts. Though my phone never buzzed, I read over the messages, anyway. Sadie never replied earlier when I offered to cook dinner after the meeting. We could talk about our days like we used to, but there is still no answer. I don’t know if she’s working or resting. I don’t want to risk bothering her, so I slip my phone into my pocket.

Forcing a smile, I nod. “Yes, I’m ready to order.”

Mason smirks across the table, no doubt suspecting why I hesitated. Knowing him, he’s hopeful about an end to my engagement so he can try to get his hands on her. I wouldn’t put such a low move past him. His mother certainly already tried. Over the years, she often “accidentally” ran into Sadie and her father from time to time with Mason in tow, of course.

As expected, the meeting consists mostly of useless chatter with some business in between. These have always been more about maintaining a relationship, sucking up to others to keep them on your side. I hate them, so when the meeting ends, I’m more than eager to return home.

Stepping into the house, I’m surprised to find Sadie walking down the steps into the foyer. She must have been at work, maybe came over for a brief nap because my house is closer. Now she’s leaving again. Sadie adjusts a pair of simple silver hoops, wearing a white suit with a glistening silver top beneath. So focused on leaving, she almost didn’t see me.

“Oh, welcome home,” she says, reaching the bottom step. Her normally pale cheeks are tinted pink from rushing around. “You’re early tonight.”

“I had a meeting outside of the office. Did you not receive my messages?” I ask, slipping out of my shoes.

Sadie pulls out her phone and frowns. “Sorry. I totally saw this earlier and got caught up.”

My stomach has stopped dropping after the many failed attempts at having dinner together.

“You know I’m the last person you need to apologize to concerning being busy at work,” I say.

“I could make you dinner to make up for it?” She suggests, sounding very skeptical. I approach her, resting my hands on her waist. She slips her arms around my neck.

“The last time you tried cooking, I’m fairly certain you created a nuclear reactive specimen.”

Laughing, Sadie leans up for a quick kiss. She releases me, moving towards the door. While slipping on her heels, she says, “True, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Anyway, it’s good you’re here. I wanted to have a quick chat. Mom doesn’t think we should have a fall wedding. She says it’s too unpredictable. We may end up having a background of dead trees.”

“If that’s true, we can have a Halloween style wedding by acquiring a few ghosts and ghouls to hang in the trees.”

“Then send a last-minute email that everyone has to wear black or come in costume?”

“That would be very memorable.” I watch her double check her appearance in the mirror, then gently guide Sadie towards an important question. “What does your dad think about a fall wedding?”

“He said he doesn’t care when we have it, so long as I’m happy. In short, he doesn’t care as long as the wedding looks good to his colleagues.”

Yeah, typical.

I lean against the wall by the mirror. “So you’ve spoken with him recently? Him and your mom haven’t come over for dinner in a while.”

Sadie gives me a quiet and knowing stare. “Do you want them to come over?”

“Not really, no.”

“And that’s why they haven’t been over.” She digs through her purse, mouthing to herself that she has everything she needs, then adds, “I can only handle so much of my mom too, especially recently. Dad has been busy, but I talked to him earlier.”

“Really? What about?”

Sadie shrugs. “Work and stuff. Why?”

“No reason. Just asking to make sure you aren’t focusing too much on work. It’s important to take breaks.” I feel bad for lying, but it’s better not to tell Sadie anything when I don’t know the full truth. Louis and I could be overreacting from years of Mason’s tiring attempts to throw me to the dogs. Kenneth may have met with Mason for legitimate work reasons, even if that is an incredibly naïve thought. And Sadie isn’t the best at keeping secrets with gossip worthy material.

“Don’t tell me about taking breaks when you are as much of a workaholic as I am,” Sadie lectures, poking me in the chest with a pointed nail. “Please learn to take your own advice. I’m still shocked you made time to propose to me.”