Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Farhad raised both hands, as if trying to shield himself from Elizabeth. “Gah. Can someone get her to stop?”
Polly slipped behind Elizabeth and put a hand over her mouth before Elizabeth could say more. Instead of fighting, Elizabeth just folded her arms and waited, mouth still covered.
“I guess we should all just be aware and keep an eye out, okay?” I said. “I don’t know what Gregor is planning to do, but we’ve had enough changes in leadership around here. I also don’t want to see our magazine torpedoed into the ground over some grudge match between Dominic and his dad.”
“And you want Dominic to keep tapping that well of yours with his girthy… bucket,” Elizabeth said. “Lost the metaphor a little there, but you get the point.”
“This isn’t about the two of us. We don’t even know what we’re calling it. It’s just casual, so my main concern is the magazine.”
“Right,” Farhad said, voice laced with sarcasm. “The magazine.”
Polly pulled down the blinds at the window and sucked in a sharp breath. “Uh. Looks like we should get out there. Gregor is announcing something.”
29
DOMINIC
I wanted to grab my dad by the shoulders and chuck him out the nearest fucking window. Before now, the hostilities between us had always stayed bound by some unspoken lines–like the point just between open hostility and passive aggressive shittiness. The way he’d been with Darcy earlier had crossed those lines, and it felt like everything was on the table now. It was war, and the loser might just lose everything.
I scanned the office floor for Darcy and spotted her emerging from the break room with Polly, Farhad, and Elizabeth. The sheepish look she gave me told me everything. She’d been in there telling them about us. I might have been pissed any other time, but I suspected she felt the cat was already out of the bag. She wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the messages my dad was sending loud and clear. I know about you two, and I’m going to put a stop to this.
Her friends were also giving me extra long glances as they scurried back to their stations.
My father waited self-importantly, hands clasped in front of his expensive suit. He’d always told me as a kid that power was perception. You could be the richest man in the world and people would think you were nothing if you didn’t make sure they knew it. It was why he spent obscene amounts of money on the best clothes. His watch was worth more than most people’s homes. His wardrobe was probably well into the price of an entire neighborhood of houses, and I knew for a fact he spent a small fortune having what was left of his hair styled every morning. The man reeked of money.
“I haven’t formally introduced myself yet,” he said. He spoke loud enough to be heard, but only just. It was another tactic I knew he loved. If they have to listen hard to hear you, you’ve got their attention captured. He was all about subtle power grabs and control. “I’m Gregor Lockwood. I have been in the business of doing business since I was fourteen.”
I tuned him out as he droned on with the speech I’d heard a million times. I knew what he really wanted. He was scanning the employees while he spoke and evaluating everyone’s reaction. I knew he was making mental notes of anyone who didn’t look properly impressed or willing enough to kiss his ass. He’d do his best to make sure those people weren’t part of the company for long.
“When I acquire a new company, I like to treat all of my employees to the wisdom I’ve earned over the last forty years. That’s why you’re all invited to fly to California with me this weekend and attend my You Are The Change conference. Lodging, food, and travel will all be covered, of course. The conference is optional, but I highly encourage you all to consider.” He smiled, gave a little tilt of his chin, and headed for my office.
I cringed. “Optional”. I knew what that meant, too. Anybody who chose not to go wasn’t loyal.
It grated at me. He gave me this assignment because he thought it would be impossible to succeed. Now that I felt just weeks away from turning the corner and really starting to grow the magazine, he showed up to dip his fingers into everything. If the magazine failed now, he’d claim it was because I started it off in the wrong direction. If it succeeded, he’d try to claim it was because of his “intervention.”
Like always, my old man wanted to take control away from me, and my head was spinning as I tried to think up some way to stop it from working, just this one time.