17. Valerie
Ilook at the reports in front of me, wondering if I can make sense of them all. I have immersed myself in work these past days, so much so, the numbers I am looking at are all starting to merge. I have read every report, every strategy, and have had meetings with key people across finance, marketing, and sales to ensure I am well-versed. I have reviewed our HR policies, seen the reports from our employee hotline, did a pulse check on our team”s mental and physical health, tried to gauge the culture, what it is like, what we can improve. I have even spent more time with our team who run the Van Cleef Foundation, a department that my mother started and one I have worked with a lot. I have tasked them with looking at more grassroots charities and ways we can help the local community, particularly kids. After the incident with Levi, I know that is an issue the city has, and if Van Cleef can put some money together to help, then that is what I want to do.
But regardless of how much work I am doing, my mind still wanders to AJ. His body, his strong hands, the way we rode his bike together. His protective nature, his dislike of accepting my help, the way he kissed me. Actually, mostly the way he kissed me. I have never been kissed like that. Ever. With so much possessive want, the tight grip he had on my face like he couldn’t let me go for a second.
It”s been a few days since that night. I made calls the next morning and managed to get Levi off with a fine and a final warning. If he breaks the law again, he will be looking at jail time. I was surprised to get the text from AJ, and I wasn’t sure how the call would go when I rang him, but he invited me for another date. I can’t say I have heard of Jordie’s before, but I have talked the girls into coming with me tonight, and I desperately want to see him again. Now as I sit here with George, discussing the business and my situation, my confidence rises as does my confusion and anger.
“So George, you’re telling me that my father is trying to secure the entire foothold of this region of Montana?” I ask, wide-eyed. I have been looking at the map on my screen for mere minutes, but I can already see that something isn’t right. Who needs that much land in Montana?
“That’s what he wants…” George says hesitantly.
“But if he does this, he will effectively be pushing people out of their homes, to what? Build a resort? Construct some office and retail spaces?” I look at him like this is ludicrous, because it makes no sense. George has worked for Van Cleef Corp for years and was my mother’s right-hand man. He and my father don’t see eye to eye, but my mother made the instructions clear when she passed. George was to stay on, no matter what, and for that, I am glad. He is my closest confidant in the business.
“He doesn’t care. He wants to buy the property and build.” George nods in confirmation.
“But that makes no sense. Sure, we build properties all the time, but we have never gone into a new region with the idea to flatten homes, take over an entire portion of a neighborhood, and kick people out. What is he even thinking?” I almost shriek. This makes me really unsettled. “My mother wouldn’t have wanted this.”
“She always said we build for the success of everyone,” George states.
“She did, didn’t she?” I murmur, her words now coming back to me. Van Cleef Corp has been highly successful over the years. That’s not to say that we haven’t made some questionable decisions, but for the most part, we have been successful in building our wealth and that of others where we can.
“Your father doesn’t care. He wants to own that parcel of land,” George confirms.
“But we have Tennessee to focus on?” I question. While we run multiple projects at a time, buying businesses, merging them, building new ones, focusing on a new hotel build in Tennessee while also managing something nearly identical in Montana doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.
“Tennessee is good, but your father can’t get a collaborator and he is chasing the dollars.”
“I understand that. But we have run the numbers. Tennessee will be fantastic for us. It will increase employment, provide much-needed infrastructure, and we are using all local builders and suppliers. Not to mention, it is right near Whispers. We both know how that town has grown to become a billionaire hotspot. But this?” I taper off, not seeing any additional benefit aside from our bottom line. It feels icky.
“We need a partner in Tennessee to make it marketable, though,” George says, looking at me.
“I’ve got us one.” I know I can trust George. He hates my father.
“Who?” he fires back. He might be close to seventy in age, but he is quick as a fox.
“Well, maybe two, actually…” I tease, my smile small but there. “Whiteman’s and the Rothschilds.” His eyebrows shoot to his hairline.
“Well, shit. Your father tried to get Whiteman’s and they wouldn’t take his call. But the Rothschilds?” he says, leaning back in his office chair, not looking convinced.
“I had a meeting with the Rothschild boys. It’s early days, just starting conversations, but they are keen to reinvest in more local projects now that Harrison is president. While their overseas expansion into Singapore has been fantastic for them, they now need to refocus domestically and they would like to collaborate, to again show the people they are investing in America. They want in on our Tennessee project and anywhere else we might have our sights on,” I say, my mind racing with the possibilities.
“And in return?” George asks, deep in thought.
“They invest, Whiteman’s will get naming rights of the bar area, as well as exclusive whiskey supplier across our hospitality businesses, and we retain complete control, keeping us majority shareholder.” My smile widens as he looks at me in wonder. I have been on the phone all week, but I managed to get verbal agreements from everyone on this, and I am proud to have gotten that far.
“Well, my dear, your mother would be smiling about now.” His eyes become glassy.
“We just need to get it past my father…” I murmur, and George takes a big breath as his lips thin. “Why is my father so adamant about Montana?” I ask, knowing there has to be more.
“Ownership. If he purchases this area, then he will own a large portion of the town and outskirts. Then the governor will be in our pocket,” George highlights.
“Why does he want the governor?” My eyes thin, hating the sound of this entirely.
“Because the Rothschilds have solid political connections, so he wants Van Cleef to as well,” George says, his jaw set.
“You cannot be serious? He is investing in a business decision, not based on strategy, financial outcome, or community benefit, but because he wants the same connections as the Rothschilds?” I say the words that seem so crazy, yet I already know they are true.
“Your father always wanted to be bigger, better, have more, look smarter, be more popular…” George says.
“That doesn’t sound ethical at all,” I quip.
“Where your father’s concerned, nothing ever is,” George comments, and I swallow, finally seeing it all now. I take a breath and ask the question that plays on my mind.
“Why is he the CEO, then?” Over the years, I haven’t been privy to all of my father’s decisions, and I have come to the conclusion that he, no doubt, is unethical and borderline almost criminal in some of his decisions. Ever since my mom died, his standards and his ethics have completely been erased. I ignored it before, because I always thought that my ascension into the CEO position would happen naturally and that I could fix everything when I was in the role. But now that he wants me to marry and get out of the business, I need to make the moves myself.
“Who else?” he asks, eyeing me suspiciously. We have talked briefly, but I haven’t gone over my entire plan with him yet.
“Me,” I say firmly, and he looks at me. “I’m ready. I have attended every board meeting for the last two years. I have worked in every department. I know everyone in this building from you, as our VP, through to David in the mailroom and Theresa who delivers our catering. I know our profit and loss for the past three years. I am aware of everything we do in this business.” Nervous voicing my idea, the words rush out of me.
“Your father always said you weren’t interested. Said you prefer fashion and shopping, not the business,” George says, sitting forward.
“My father is a liar.” George nods in understanding. Sure, I love fashion. I like to have nice clothes; I enjoy wearing designers, but being a fashion influencer is not my job, merely a hobby when I have the time.
“Your mom would be proud of the woman you have become,” George says, and the air leaves my lungs momentarily. I swallow down the tears that sting my eyes because that’s what I want.
“But my father is not.” The familiar feeling of anxiety and dread settles in my stomach.
“With all due respect, your father is an asshole,” he says, and I huff a laugh.
“So do I have your support?” I ask, looking at him, waiting on edge to hear the words that could either make or break my future.
“To be CEO? To overthrow your father?” he clarifies, because that is exactly what we are talking about. He gives nothing away as he watches me. I nod, waiting for his answer.
A broad smile spreads across his face. “I have been waiting for this day since the moment you were born.” My grin widens, matching his.
“Let’s put together a plan, because he is not going down without a fight,” George says, sitting forward, and I swallow harshly, my anxiety growing, yet I know this is what needs to be done.
After George and I strategize for another hour, I feel renewed as I walk to my office, excited about the plan going forward and George”s help. I know the business development team likes my ideas; I have worked in the legal team for years, so they all know me well, and I wasn’t lying to George when I said I know every staff member here in our office. All 256 of them.
“Valerie!” my father’s voice barks at me, and I stop short, heart thumping. It shouldn”t be like this. I shouldn’t experience immediate fear as soon as my father calls my name. I turn to face him, and as I do, I plaster on the fake smile I have mastered over the years. I need to remain innocent and appear as though I am doing what he asks. He can’t know my plan to overthrow him until I need him to.
“My office. Now!” I jump slightly at his tone as I watch him turn and walk into his office, not even waiting to see if I follow his command, because he knows I will. I always do. I balk for a moment, wondering what it would be like to walk in the other direction. I imagine him sitting at his desk waiting and then the anger that would overtake him knowing that I wasn’t coming. But we are at the office, his assistant is watching, and those nearby heard his command. I give them all a small smile that I know doesn’t reassure them at all, and they all look at me with a healthy mix of nerves and pity. I never noticed it before, but that is exactly what it is. I roll my shoulders back and strut to his office. If I am going to be CEO, I need to get used to uncomfortable conversations, and my father’s office provides a perfect training ground.
As I walk in, he isn’t looking at me, but he barks, “Close the door.”
I do as he commands and close the door, standing in front of it, waiting.
“What in the world do you think you are playing at?” he seethes, and my muscles tense. I only just talked with George, so surely he didn’t say anything.
“I have no idea what you mean.” I feign confusion.
“Valerie! I told you that you are to be married. You are not taking any of my calls, and then I see this!” he yells, throwing photos onto his desk. I don’t move, but my eyes lower, and I see images of me getting off the back of AJ’s bike in front of my apartment. Of us kissing. It is dark, they are blurry, but there is no mistaking it is AJ and me. At first, I think it must be Victor who has taken them, and I feel the familiar sense of betrayal from a man I consider a close ally, but no, they are photos taken from the other side of the street. I can see Victor in the background of a few.
My eyes flick back to my father, whose hands are on his hips. I keep my features schooled, not wanting to give him anything. The number of calls that my father has made to me has been astronomical, and I have ignored each and every one. I did make the mistake of listening to his voicemail. He never leaves a message and his seething tone at me ignoring him was chilling as I listened, enough to almost have me run to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach.
“I am not playing at anything,” I answer his original question.
He stares at me, his nostrils wide. “You are on the back of a fucking motorcycle. You are kissing a nightclub bouncer on the curb.”
“He is not a nightclub bouncer,” I say, even though, yes, technically, he is, but he is so much more.
“Oh, I know everything there is to know about AJ Steele.” I start to panic a little. “And let me tell you, if you keep up this fucking charade, there will be consequences.” I remain silent, biting my tongue. Now is the time to be smart. Not emotional.
“It’s just one last fling before I get married. You told me I have a few months. After I am wed, my life changes forever.” The lies on my tongue taste bitter, but I need to play the game. The fact that he already knows who AJ is concerns me. AJ is big and tough enough to fight anyone, but I know my father. He wouldn’t play fair.
My father’s shoulders lower, and he takes a big breath. “Just stop acting like a slut in public. I will be moving up the timeline. William Schmidt is going to be back in town soon and expects a better greeting from you when he is here. I had to practically grovel to get him to come back and you will not act indifferent to him again. Until then, pull yourself together. Stop eating carbs and stop liaising with the poor people in town. You might catch something,” he says, sitting at his desk and picking up his phone, signifying the end of the conversation.
I turn and walk out the door, strutting to my office, my nails digging into my palms. I thought I disliked my father before. I thought he was being irrational and demeaning, and I didn’t like the way he treated me or others. But now, with the way he talks about AJ, my blood boils. I don’t care where AJ lives. I don’t care that he works in security and is not some Wall Street finance guy or oil baron. AJ has already treated me better than all the other men in my life and that has to count for something.