Chapter One #2
‘And good morning to you too, Renzo.’
‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since yesterday.’ He stares at me accusingly. ‘I rang and texted you.’
Which was more than he had done after we kissed in Vegas. My body tenses as I remember that frantic, potent encounter in his car, the way our lips fused and how heat rolled through my body like wildfire.
Blanking my mind forcibly, I shrug. ‘My phone isn’t on.’
A muscle twitches in his jaw. ‘Which in itself is extraordinary.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, deliberately misunderstanding him. ‘I know Gen Z is supposed to be addicted to their phones, but you know me—I like to buck a trend.’
‘Your likes and dislikes are of no interest to me, Hennessy.’ His blue eyes are dark and opaque, like uncut sapphire chips. ‘Being able to communicate with my business partner is.’
My hackles rise. ‘If you’re so bothered about communication, perhaps you should polish up your small talk. Any normal person would ask me how I am. I mean, it must be a good five years since we last met.’
It isn’t—it’s three years and two months—but I don’t want him to think that I have any memory of that evening.
Maybe he doesn’t remember it, because he doesn’t correct me. Instead, he gives me one of those looks that he reserves for me, the kind that could cause structural damage to a building.
My fingers curl into fists. I know it shouldn’t hurt me as much as it does, and I should be used to it by now, because he’s never approved of me, but something’s changed.
When I was younger, he treated me like an annoying kid.
Now there is something else there—a hard, high barrier, as if he wants to keep me at arm’s length.
The feeling’s mutual, and I almost tell him so, but then I notice something that makes my blood congeal in my veins.
I am standing in the doorway to David Walters’ office. Except it isn’t David’s office anymore. I glance pointedly at the lettering on the door that spells out Renzo’s name.
‘You didn’t wait long.’
‘Because this is business, Hennessy. In business, time is money.’
I stare at Renzo in silence. He flew in from Australia overnight.
But even on a private jet that flight is brutal.
Normally, if I do that trip, I wear my biggest sunnies and a hoodie to conceal the worst of the damage from the paparazzi.
But Renzo looks as if he has just stepped off a magazine shoot.
His tailored dark suit skims his broad shoulders and emphasises the honed, muscular body beneath.
And it isn’t fair that, as well as being smart and stratospherically successful, he can look that good with jet lag.
Fair or not, it isn’t a wise idea to focus on those sleek, beautiful outer garments because the man beneath is as cold-blooded as he is calculating and opportunistic.
I can completely understand why David chose him as his successor, and why the board is no doubt delighted that he is their new co-CEO.
As a shareholder, Renzo has a vested interest in making the business work, but it is his expertise they covet, and I suppose I can’t blame them for that.
After all, he is the controlling force behind one of the fastest-growing news media companies in the world and, from what I hear, he stops at nothing to achieve his goals.
He is equally ruthless at streamlining businesses, sorting the wheat from the chaff without so much as blinking.
But then I knew that already.
I am suddenly so furious with my father for putting me in this position that it is impossible to speak. How can Charlie do this to me? But I don’t need to ask that question because the answer is always the same: that, as much as my father claims to love me, he loves himself more.
But at least he doesn’t hate me, which is more than can be said for the man whose authority and self-assurance effortlessly fills his new office, and all without him moving a muscle.
‘Businesses are not just about money, Renzo. They’re about people.’
‘Spoken like a true nepo-baby.’ He looks at me in contempt. ‘Businesses are about profit, Hennessy, and it is profit that pays people’s salaries. Perhaps, now you’re working rather than just cashing in your dividends, that will become clearer to you.’
His hard gaze lasers dismissively over my mussed-up hair and bare legs. ‘Obviously, I don’t count flouncing in late in your boyfriend’s jacket as actual employment.’
‘It’s Charlie’s jacket. And I wasn’t late. As a matter of fact, I came here yesterday evening, and I spent the night brainstorming for today’s meeting.’
‘And that’s what you wear to “brainstorm” in, is it?’
I want to strangle him. Instead, I meet his gaze. ‘No. I was going to Garrison Cutler’s birthday party…’ I break off, suddenly unsure of where that sentence is leading. I only know where I don’t want it to lead, and that’s with me revealing anything about my private life to this man.
He shakes his head, his lip curling. ‘Fiddling while Rome burns. That sounds more like it.’
‘And there it is… Congratulations; you almost managed a whole five minutes before you brought up my entitled life. That must be a record.’
His jaw tenses. ‘Only because you choose to surround yourself with leeches and layabouts who have no incentive to hold up a mirror to your flaws.’
Wow…and screw you. The thread of tension that has been tightening inside me for hours now threatens to snap. He is so righteous and hateful. Why isn’t someone investigating him for being so utterly, utterly vile?
Bunching my hands into fists, I glare at him.
‘I’ll be sure to share that flattering assessment with my team later.
Unless you’d like to. Or here’s a thought, perhaps you could stifle your prejudices and deal with reality for a moment?
Which is that I’m your co-CEO, and up until twenty-four hours ago I was the CMO here.
My old office is at the end of the corridor—’
‘A position you earned purely on merit, I’m sure. Who interviewed you, I wonder?’
I could point out that lots of people aside from me get given a leg up through family connections.
Or that I am good at my job. But I didn’t have an interview and, given my scrappy academic and employment record, I’m not sure I would have got one, so I ignore the sneer in his voice and smile stiffly.
‘Quite frankly, I don’t have time right now for your stone-age opinions on dress code, or my career to date. I need to prepare for the board meeting.’
His eyes are dark and fathomless. It feels as if I’m drowning, and I want to reach out and grip hold of the doorframe to stop from being pulled under. But I can’t, because then he will know that he has got under my skin.
He stares down at me. ‘And we will. But you and I need to have a little chat first; clarify a few things.’
Does he mean that kiss? My heart is like a living thing inside my rib cage as I remember… Renzo’s car. His mouth on mine. My hands on his chest. The heat of him, and my heart plunging wildly as I felt his hunger flexing beneath my fingers.
And now he is here, barely a foot away, staring intently at me as if my skull is made of crystal, and close enough that I can almost feel the warmth radiating from his body. So close that I could reach out and touch him.
As if he can read my mind, he takes a step closer. My skin chills as he stares down at me coldly, and I realise that I am wrong. He doesn’t want to talk about that kiss. It’s a bad memory to him, a glitch in the well-oiled machine that is his life.
‘What things? Clarify what?’ I ask.
He makes me wait, but there is a glitter in his eyes that makes my breath catch when he finally answers. ‘That, for you, the party’s over.’
Renzo
Hennessy’s chin jerks up with an almost audible snap and I feel my spine snap to attention. I wonder not for the first time what I am doing.
I was in Australia on business, trying to tempt Noah Barker into selling me his American news network, when David called. David is a good businessman, which is why I originally bought shares in the company, but I’ve never liked Charlie Wade.
Naturally, it comes as no surprise to me that Charlie has managed to turn a venerated publishing institution into a telenovela.
He represents everything I dislike about heirs to business empires.
He is entitled and lazy, has the morals of an alley cat and frankly, if he hadn’t practically inherited the position of CEO from his father, I doubt our paths would have crossed.
He treats Wade and Walters like a piggy bank and has a plate-spinning approach to business that frankly appals me.
As for his private life…
For starters, it’s not private, and it’s less a life than a series of inter-connecting, random events. But, like business, life needs structure, forward-planning and discipline. Otherwise, there is chaos, and with chaos comes consequences that are both far-reaching and painful.
Spending seven years without a permanent home taught me that.
After our parents’ deaths, Antony and I were taken into care.
My father’s cousin was too frail to take us in, and our more distant family members in Italy were reluctant to disrupt their lives.
We were fostered several times, eight in total, and spent time in three different children’s homes.
Each time we moved, there was nothing I could do. I was powerless.
There were other consequences too. The children’s home was warm and clean, the food was adequate, and the staff were mostly kind, but there was an almost total lack of physical affection. Aside from Antony, nobody hugged me, and I knew that when I left there would be nobody to hug him.
I couldn’t bear thinking about that, so as soon as I could I got a job and a house, and I got Antony back. I’ve worked hard ever since to keep the random and the unfiltered at the margins of our lives.