Chapter Three
Luc
Stupid rule.
T he next day, I pull up to my parents’ estate.
“Welcome, Mr. Kingley,” the butler greets me as my Bugatti door closes behind me. He leads me toward the large double doors, even though I know the way.
He opens them, and the marble floor greets us, shining beneath the afternoon light filtering through the tall windows. We pass the grand staircase with balconies on either side, heading toward the dining room.
My dad sits in his wheelchair at the head of the long mahogany table, big enough to sit dozens. My mom is to his right, with my sister Sophie beside her.
“Luc!” Sophie jumps from her seat and runs toward me.
“Hi, Sophie.” A grin spreads across my face as she wraps her arms around my waist, squeezing me a little too hard. She’s all sunshine, like our mom, and looks exactly like her. Her skin is a perfect mix of mom’s dark complexion and dad’s olive skin. She has curly hair like mine, but I pulled mine up into a ponytail. Hers spills over her shoulders, framing her sweet face beautifully.
Sophie is seventeen, twelve years younger than me. She’s still my best friend and one of my favorite people in the world.
“Someone missed me.” I laugh, ruffling her curls.
My parents stay in Les Collines D’etoiles, about an hour’s drive from my penthouse in Paris. I try to visit them once a month, but Mom insisted I come today.
After a few seconds, Sophie releases me, and I walk over to my mom. “Hi, Mom.” I lean down, kissing both of her cheeks.
Her face lights with a smile, her dark curly hair shining under the ceiling light. I can see the exhaustion beneath her smile. It’s been a long year since my father’s stroke.
“Father,” I say, unbuttoning my suit jacket before taking the seat next to him, noticing the deep lines etched between his brows. His wheelchair looks out of place at the grand dining table. He shifts slightly, his right hand lying limp on his lap. His left hand trembles as he tries to grab the glass of water.
I reach for the glass, instinctively wanting to help, but he snaps at me. His words are strained as he’s still struggling with his speech. “I…can…get… myself.” The frustration and pride are clear in his eyes.
I drag my hand away, not wanting to take away the control he desperately wants to hold on to. It takes him a long moment, but he finally brings the glass to his lips before taking a sip. The muscles in his arm visibly strain with the effort.
My heart tightens at the sight, but I keep my expression neutral. My father wouldn’t want pity, he never has. This is the reason I don’t visit as often as I used to. I hate seeing him like this. He was always larger than life. The man who used to command a boardroom with his presence and silence them with one glance.
Jean, who has been with the family for as long as I can remember, approaches the table with a bottle of chateau noir wine from the Nivorse family vineyards. Mrs. Nivorse, Mia’s grandmother, has been more than a business partner; she’s an old family friend. We’ve been distributing her wines for decades.
He starts with my father’s glass, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed, and his gray eyes focus on pouring the wine. Then he moves to mine, and finally my mother’s.
The wine sits in our untouched glasses as Kate brings over our entrees. She places a small plate of foie gras pate and thin slices of toasted brioche before me. I slowly unfold my napkin and lay it across my lap, glancing across the table at Sophie. She’s quietly tearing into a piece of bread, lost in her thoughts.
No one touches their food, besides Sophie, as we all wait. If my mother insisted I come, it’s for something important.
She glances at my dad before bringing her gaze back to me. “Luc,” she begins. “The board has made their decision. You need to be married by the time you turn thirty to remain CEO.” Her hands fold and unfold her napkin.
I blink as her words settle, a punch to the gut. “Wait, what?” I look over at my father, whose eyes hold a steady gaze. His mouth twitches, but no words come.
“I thought Father would talk to them to change that.”
“We tried,” my mother continues. “Your father fought them as much as he could, but they wouldn’t agree.”
I shift in my seat, my mind racing.
“I… tried,” he says slowly. “Board…wouldn’t listen.”
I had believed and assumed that my father’s influence would be enough. “I don’t understand this rule. Why do I have to be married to be CEO? What is this?”
My mother lets out a long sigh. “Your great-grandfather added this rule to protect the family legacy. He wanted the CEO, his son, to be married and eventually have a child, someone they could pass the business down to. He wanted to make sure the business stayed in the family.”
I grit my teeth, trying to wrap my head around it. “So, y’all expect me to get married in six months and what? Have a kid right after? What happens if I don’t?”
Sophie glances between us.
“You know what happens,” my mom says quietly. The board would put someone else in charge. The board would sideline me as a shareholder, letting someone else run my family’s company.
I can’t let that happen.
My birthday is in six months. I have six fucking months to find someone, convince her to marry me, and secure my position. This part wouldn’t even be hard. But can I find someone I like and trust, someone I can even find myself falling in love with? One name and face come to mind, but that’s complicated as hell.
Then there’s Olivier, my half-brother. Even though he isn’t married, I wouldn’t put it past him to get married to beat me to it.
Olivier is four years younger than me. He is the son my dad had during his supposed business trips to London.
Apparently, he has a thing for British girls, since my mom is also British. My dad is French, and they met back in Uni. While my mom is of African descent, Olivier’s mom is fully European. So Olivier looks nothing like me or my sister. We have curly hair, and he has straight hair. While I have light-brown skin, he has fair skin.
“What happened to Mrs. Nivorse’s granddaughter? I thought you liked her.” My mom’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Mia? She’s engaged, Mom. We’re just friends.” I did like her, but I realized it was because she was different from the women in my circle.
Women have been throwing themselves at me for as long as I can remember, more interested in my money and my status. Mia was a breath of fresh air, and I wanted that. But after I impulsively kissed her, I knew it was wrong; her heart belonged to someone else.
“You’re running out of time, Luc. Your dad and I will arrange someone for—”
“I don’t want an arranged marriage with some random woman I don’t even know,” I blurt out, cutting her off.
“But—” she starts again.
“No buts. I can find my own wife. I still have six months.” Not only are they forcing me to get married, they also want to arrange the marriage.
Mom exchanges a glance with Dad, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you have a girlfriend we don’t know about?”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom.” I lean back in my chair like I’ve got it all figured out. “If they want me married in six months, I’ll get it done.”
I wish the confidence in my words matched how I actually feel.
I’m so fucked.