Chapter Two
Luc
I’m fucked.
“Y ou can’t buy a company without consulting us!” The board director’s voice blares through the phone’s speaker from my desk. He’s not happy. I’m standing in front of the large glass windows with a view of the Eiffel Tower. In the distance, the top of the tower meets the blue sky, illuminated by the orange hues of the morning sun. My finger clicking on the back of my pen is the only things keeping me calm.
“I did.” My head tilts slightly toward the desk. “You all seem to forget I’m the CEO, and I can make decisions that will benefit the company without your approval.” Technically, their input was required, but they would have shut the idea down.
This purchase wouldn’t seem like an investment to them, and they would be right. It’s a small fashion brand focused on fast fashion and cheap trends, with none of the elegance or lasting quality that BCAK is known for. The brand built its identity around quick, disposable styles, rather than timeless design. It appeals to trend-hungry shoppers, offering flashy, low-cost pieces that go out of style as quickly as they arrive.
They were struggling financially, practically bankrupt, because shoppers could find the same styles even cheaper from online retailers in China. Nothing about it aligns with BCAK’s commitment to luxury and sophistication.
“Let’s schedule a meeting to discuss this company and how it benefits us.”
I need to figure out a way, and fast, to convince them this acquisition will help our company. The problem is, I have no freaking idea except how it benefits me.
I’m so fucked.
“My assistant will be in touch.” I walk toward the desk and end the call. My back hits my chair, and my fingers rub over the stubble on my chin.
The ring of my phone brings my attention to where it lies on the desk. Leaning forward, I grab it and hold it to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Bonjour, mon Chéri (good morning, my love). How’s my favorite son doing?”
I chuckle at the sound of her voice. “I’m good, Maman (Mom). And I’m your only son. How are you and dad?”
“We’re doing okay. Your father has been practicing his exercises all day. He’s determined to get some of his movement back.” There’s a little lift in her voice, the one she always has when she’s proud but still worried.
“That sounds like him. Stubborn as always.”
She laughs. “We were hoping you could come to dinner tomorrow night. He’s been asking for you.”
“Tomorrow?” I shift slightly in my chair, straightening my back. “But we always have dinner every third Thursday of the month. Is everything okay?”
I grab the stress ball from my drawer and squeeze it. She knows I like to stick to my schedule, and I already planned out my week.
“Everything is fine, but he really needs to see you. Can you make an exception for this time?”
I run through tomorrow’s schedule in my head, trying to rearrange everything. If I push that call to the afternoon and skip lunch, maybe I can… My mind goes blank. I’ll need to go over it with my assistant.
“Okay, Maman, I’ll come tomorrow. Is six o’clock okay?” When it comes to my family, I can’t say no, even if it means sacrificing the order I rely on to stay afloat.
“It’s perfect. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you, and don’t work too late.”
“I’ll try. Love you, too, Maman.” I hang up and set my phone on the desk.
She tries her best to understand how my routine keeps me together and doesn’t mean to throw me off. But this last-minute change is about to mess up my entire schedule. One shift in plans, and I’ll be juggling meetings, missing deadlines, and scrambling to catch up for the rest of the week.
Two fingers press against my temple, rubbing as the pressure builds behind my eyes. Tomorrow is going to be a fucking mess, but I’ll figure it out.
I always do.