Kiss Me, Kit (Twisted Bard)

1. Kristoff Is Given a Challenge

1

Kristoff Is Given a Challenge

“ P eter just earned his MBA,” my father says, beaming with pride at the virtual stranger sitting next to me, “and he’s generously decided to join our corporate team.”

We sit in Father’s office, which is on the sixtieth floor of a building that has our last name, Minola, on it. Behind him is a panoramic view of Chicago skyscrapers and the vast expanse of Lake Michigan.

I sit across from his desk in a leather chair and feel the overwhelming urge to bounce my legs. I suppress it by crossing them and resting my left hand on my knee to keep me from jiggling my foot. It’s an old habit, and one I’ve nearly broken, but that urge to move always gets worse when I’m called into my father’s office for an “informal chat.”

Especially when we’re not alone.

Beside me sits my stepbrother, Peter, who is apparently the bearer of a newly minted MBA with the ink still wet.

I used to wonder if he was my half brother as well as stepbrother, despite him being born well before his mother and my father were married, but I’ve got no proof for that beyond the way he’s been treated by my father from the very beginning.

I’d say I’ve been treated like a red-haired stepchild, except that’s what Peter is. A literal red-haired step-child, but treasured and raised like a precious only child. I was the one sent away. I’m the one who feels like an intruder in my childhood home.

“Am I boring you?” I hear Father say. “I’m sorry if hearing about your brother’s accomplishments doesn’t hold your attention.”

“He’s not my brother,” Peter and I say simultaneously. We glance at each other. I fight to keep my expression blank while he rolls his eyes at me. They’re hazel, I suppose. Green with an inner ring of gold. Pretty eyes, I think, then am disgusted with myself for thinking anything about Peter Verona is attractive.

Especially when all of him is attractive.

I turn to look at my father’s scowling face. Not that I can remember him ever giving me a smile. “Unless you and my stepmother met before Mom left you.” I smile and I know I’m showing too many teeth. Unspoken is that she also left me.

Peter laughs derisively. “I look just like my sperm donor, unfortunately. You and I are definitely not related. Thank god.”

I turn my feral grin on Peter, who doesn’t give me the courtesy of flinching, let alone looking the slightest bit intimidated. “Guess I’m still an only child, then. That’s a relief.”

My father huffs impatiently. “I’m insulted you think I would’ve cheated on your mother, Kristoff. Apologize. Right now.”

I stop my eyes from rolling, but only just. “No.”

“No?” Father starts to get dangerously red in the face. I wonder if he could have a heart attack right here and now. It would save me a lot of bother if he did.

“No. I think you’ll find on page 13 of the Minola Corp. Code of Business Ethics PDF that a supervisor may not force a subordinate to apologize for something that doesn’t violate said Code of Ethics. In other words, no, I will not apologize to you, and you have no recourse with which to make me.”

Beside me, Peter smothers a laugh. “You have the code of conduct memorized? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I’m not, which Father knows all too well, so he ignores both of us and moves on with his little speech.

“Since we seem to have gotten off track, let me repeat myself. Your stepbrother, Peter, has agreed to take a position with Minola. As Steve Bennett has put in his notice of retirement, I’ve decided to name Peter the new COO of Minola. I, of course, will remain CEO.”

This is such absolute bullshit that it takes everything inside me to retain a semblance of calm. “This is insane,” I say. “He can’t possibly be qualified to be a corporate COO. I’m not sure I’d trust him to be a courier in the mail room. He’s never even interned here. I, on the other hand, interned here for three summers while I was in college. I’ve been an employee at Minola in one capacity or another for over ten years. Ten years ago, my stepbrother was still going through puberty. I’ve been groomed for Steve’s position, and it’s been understood for years that when he retired his position would fall to me. Not Scrappy-Doo here.”

“You take that back,” Peter says. “I’m at least Joffrey from Game Of Thrones.”

Father doesn’t acknowledge our sniping. “Nothing in my father’s will prevents me from hiring whomever I wish for executive positions. I’ve decided to seek outside talent. It’s all perfectly above board and legal.”

There’s nothing in Grandfather’s will that guarantees promotions for me. I know it and so does Father. Even though naming a child to be our new COO will likely make our stock price tumble, especially when it was expected I would be the one to step into that position, there’s technically nothing to stop my father from doing this incredibly stupid thing.

“So you’ve decided to destroy Minola so I can’t have it,” I say flatly. “I wish I knew what I did as a small child to earn your hatred.”

“You’re overreacting, as usual,” my father says coldly. “I don’t hate you and you were hardly neglected. You went to the best schools—”

“Hardly the best schools.” After my mother took off for parts unknown I was sent to boarding schools. Several of them, in fact, because god forbid my father let me make and keep any friends.

“—money could buy. Anything you required was always promptly purchased for you. You were spoiled, Kristoff. Pampered like a prince. You have no grounds for complaint.”

What I had wanted was to be allowed to go home and finally be a part of a family. My family. But that was the one thing I never got, and to this day I have no idea why. It’s infuriating, but I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

“Whatever, Dad,” I say, knowing how much he hates when I call him that. He says it’s disrespectful and tacky, except when his stepson calls him that. My father smiles every damn time Peter calls him Dad. Meanwhile all I have ever received is scorn or icy politeness. Never anything warmer or softer.

When near my father I have to concentrate to not let my rage show. I won’t let my face frown or my hands curl into fists. I am impervious and indifferent, even if I’m absolutely neither of those things.

“Peter will commence filling the vacant position on Monday.”

That means I have exactly two days to become resigned to watching my family’s company start to slowly fail under incompetent leadership. Oh joy.

I am physically unable to keep my mouth shut. “This is just for a year,” I say, as much for my benefit as to emphasize it to them. “Actually, it’s eleven months, twenty-five days,” I look at my watch, “five hours and nineteen minutes.” I turn to my stepbrother. “Think of this time as an extremely overpaid internship. It won’t be permanent; I can promise you that.”

Peter laughs again, not at all put off by my words. He looks smug, as if he knows something I don’t, and the expression makes me want to punch him in the face.

If it were up to my father, I wouldn’t be at Minola Corp. in any capacity. My grandfather, however, was still CEO when I graduated from college. I worked at Minola as an intern, earned myself a place, then proceeded to work my way up through the company. He told me that he’d hand over the company to me after I’d been promoted—by merit—to COO and then proved myself competent in that position to Grandfather’s satisfaction. That had always been the plan, but Grandfather had died much too soon.

By the time my grandfather passed I’d made it to senior vice president of operations. So close, and yet so, so far. My father took over as Minola’s CEO after Grandfather was gone, but only as one in the interim. On my thirty-fifth birthday, per Grandpa’s will, half of his shares would transfer to me, but only if I still worked for Minola at that time. The other half went to my Nonna, and she allows me to vote those shares in stockholder meetings on her behalf. Once my shares came out of escrow on my next birthday, I’d have control over nearly two thirds of Minola’s stock. I’d make myself CEO and my father could just fuck right off. I didn’t care where, just as long as he wasn’t at Minola.

I don’t think my grandfather had any expectation of dying when he did, because his will hadn’t been updated since I was a teenager. Had he known the situation the will put me in, I’m sure he would’ve altered the conditions. When the will was made, it was an incentive for me to work at Minola and learn the business first hand. But the will had become redundant almost a decade ago. Grandfather probably thought he’d have plenty of time to change the terms of his estate because he never got around to it.

Grandfather inadvertently left me in a position where I am required to work under a CEO who hates me. Father has been searching for any reason he can use to legally justify firing me. Over the past several months I must be the most over-evaluated employee in corporate America, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. Time keeps moving forward and every day that passes is one closer to me being able to kick my father, and now stepbrother, to the curb for good.

Father drones on and on until I’d like to punch him in the face. “In addition, effective immediately, I’m making you Peter’s executive assistant, Kristoff. Whatever he wants or needs, you’ll provide. And as a salaried position, that means you will naturally be available to him around the clock. If Peter asks you to jump, you won’t have to ask how high because I expect you to already know the answer to that.”

That makes me blink in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I believe you heard me just fine,” Father says. “Peter will be COO, and you’ll assist him.”

I shoot to my feet. “You can’t do this. I’ve done absolutely nothing to earn a demotion, as my weekly evaluations will show. Profits are up, employee retention is up, and operating costs have remained static. You can’t do this. You have no grounds to do this.”

Father smiles at me thinly. “My lawyers are sending the proposal over to your lawyers as we speak, but I doubt there will be any objections raised. As CEO, I’m allowed to allocate employees to where they are most needed on a temporary basis. You’ll still earn the same salary and receive the same benefits. I’m also not stripping you of your title, I’m just reallocating you. And who could argue that the perfect person to train the new COO of Minola is the man who is already senior vice president of operations?”

I will, of course, talk to my lawyers after they’d read through the proposal, but I have a feeling I’m good and trapped. Unless my legal team can figure out a way around this, my only way of getting out of this is to resign. Obviously, that’s not an option and just as obviously that’s Peter and Father’s ultimate goal. With me gone, they can do whatever they want to and with the company.

Over my fucking dead body. I’m not going to quit and there is no way I’d ever give them any grounds to fire me. The company is nearly mine. I can just about taste it. I’m not about to throw all that away now. Besides, this gives me a way to make sure Peter’s incompetent infant self doesn’t destroy the company my family has built. It’s not much of a silver lining, but at the moment, it’s all I have.

I glance down at Peter, expecting him to be gloating. Instead, his gaze is both grave and speculative, like he’s sizing me up.

This may be war, I think, so let the best man win because that will be me, every single time.

Peter stands and claps me on the shoulder. We’re the same height, I realize with a start. When did the little home-wrecking runt grow so tall?

“I look forward to working with you,” he says. “I think it’s going to be quite the learning experience.”

“No doubt,” I say back dryly.

“For both of us, I expect.”

“If you say so.”

Peter smiles at me and my stomach flops. In disgust, obviously. “I do. And for the next eleven months, twenty-five days, five hours and two minutes, every single thing I say goes, as far as you’re concerned. I’m very much anticipating our time together. I’ll see you on Monday. I start the day early, so I’ll need you to be here by six in the morning. Bring me coffee. I like mocha mint lattes and chocolate chip scones. Try to remember that. Now why don’t you run along and get back to work? I’m sure there’s something useful you should be doing.”

I’ve hated my stepbrother with a kind of impersonal disdain for most of my life. Now, however, I loathe him in a much more visceral way. Too bad workplace violence is against Minola Corp’s Code of Conduct. I force myself to nod and to walk out of my father’s office with a steady, measured pace.

This is going to be the longest year of my entire life, and if Peter expects me to go easy on him, he’s going to be grossly disappointed.