Kanton.
M Y ASSISTANT WALTZED into my office with an iPad tucked under one arm, phone in hand, with her eyes glued to the screen. She was dressed in her typical business attire. Today’s ensemble was deep navy, wide-legged pants and a matching blazer, giving a sleek and professional look.
Her honey-auburn-colored hair was slicked back into a ponytail, exposing her thin lips and nose, manicured brows, and flawless makeup. Shelby looked like a corporate shark in heels, which she would one day be, but for now, she was my secret weapon. The woman who kept my life organized and running like a well-oiled machine. She was the fine line between keeping me from tipping over the edge and pulling it all together.
Without removing her focus from the device in her delicate hand, she navigated through my office, avoiding a collision with the furniture, and placed the iPad in front of me. I lifted it into view and leaned back, crossing my leg so that my left ankle rested on my right thigh.
“What’s this?” I squinted at the brightly colored furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the interior and allowing for the perfect optics.
“A listing on Shared Space. Take a look and let me know what you think. These spots go insanely fast, and you’re running out of options this close to the holiday.”
Ah. My last-minute trip to Atlanta.
“What’s Shared Space?” I wasn’t familiar with the name and had made assumptions, but I needed to be sure what was meant by shared . I damn sure wasn’t planning on spending a week with someone I didn’t know.
“A modern-day co-op. People offer up their homes to others, short or long term.”
“Offer, as in they leave, and the guest will be there alone?”
Her eyes snapped up to mine, and a smug grin eased onto her pretty face. “Of course. I know there’s no way you would spend the week with someone you don’t know. Lord forbid you be placed in a situation where you must ignore those pressing mergers and acquisitions long enough to be social.”
I lifted one shoulder into a lazy shrug. “I can be social. I simply choose not to. I have a—”
“Ten-year plan. Yes, I know. Take over the world, and then you’ll consider having a life.”
My smile expanded. “I have a life, Shelby. It’s just not what most consider ideal. I’ve built a solid foundation that I can hopefully pass down to my kids, which they, in turn, can pass down to their kids. It’s called creating a legacy, something we as a community need to improve upon. My parents did it, and now, so will I.”
“I know what a legacy is, Kanton, but you are aware that a social life is required to afford you the opportunity to meet the woman who will assist in creating those kids who you’re building this legacy for, right?”
“I can always adopt.” That wasn’t the route I wanted to take, but it was fun antagonizing Shelby. She was every bit of the astute and tunnel-visioned businessperson that I was at times, but she had the advantage of sharing her life with someone who often softened her in ways that I wasn’t.
“I’m serious, boss. All work and no play—”
“Keeps my portfolios growing.”
“Kanton . . .” she warned with a sharp look that had my smile expanding again.
“I’m kidding. I want a family as much as you want me to have one. Just when the time is right. After I secure this deal, I’ll consider slowing down enough to go on a date or two . . . maybe .”
“You’re insufferable sometimes.”
“But I pay you handsomely, which is why you stay around to suffer. And for the record, I tried the relationship thing, remember? Jordan is currently packing her things, or at least, I hope she is, so that she can be moved out of my apartment by the time I return.”
Jordan, who I had dated for all of three months before she conveniently moved in with me . . . without my knowledge. I returned from a business trip to find her things arranged in my place, and since I was trying to embrace a social life, I gave Jordan and me a valid chance at having a future. After living together for six months, I realized she and I were mismatched. Unfortunately, she refused to accept our differences wouldn’t make for a happily ever after, and I was having a hard time detaching her from my life. It seems we had finally reached a common ground since she agreed to be out of my place before the first of the year.
“If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll be out before I return.”
I handed Shelby a warning look. The last thing I needed was Shelby getting personally involved in Jordan’s removal from my life, although it might be amusing to see the fallout. “Leave it alone. I have it covered.”
She groaned and rolled her eyes, pointing to the iPad again. “Do you want the place or not? I need to accept the offer because my guess is it will be gone by the close of business . . .”
“It’s nice but kind of . . .” I frowned, trying to find the proper terminology without being offensive.
“Quirky and eclectic. Yes, it’s all that. Probably belongs to some artsy type, but the space has beautiful bones and more importantly, it’s the perfect place for you to stay when it comes to closing this deal with Brighton.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The unit is in his building.” She smiled smugly, feeling accomplished. She knew me better than anyone, considering she spent more hours with me than her boyfriend. The opportunity to be in the same building as Brighton was golden. Nothing would prevent me from having access to him, not even a bout of bad weather, which Atlanta wasn’t known for this time of the year, but I wasn’t taking chances.
“Then there’s your answer. Book it.”
“Perfect.” She extended a hand, and I leaned over my desk, passing the iPad back to her. Her fingers moved across the screen with expert speed. She tucked the device under her arm a few moments later and smiled.
“Done. You’re officially booked for the week of Christmas. Which, by the way, I think is insanely crazy. Who the heck wants to work the week of Christmas? I would have loved to be a fly on the wall when you had that call with your mother.”
“I do if it means closing a multimillion-dollar deal, and my mother was not happy at all. However, she’ll survive. I need to convince Brighton that Global is the only chance he has of keeping controlling interest in his family’s company. All I have to do is meet with him in person to prove how great this merger can be, not just for me but for his company and future business between the two of us. The Prestige Luxury brand is huge but in dire need of our help if they want to continue owning the monopoly on luxury hotels, apartments, and spas worldwide.”
“Right, and while you’re doing all the heavy lifting, which will make us all rich, I’ll be with my boyfriend, hopefully, celebrating our engagement.”
“He’s proposing?” I arched a brow, and she smiled mischievously.
“If he’s smart, he will. I’ve given him every opportunity to pick the perfect gift, which is a Tiffany True diamond that he will present me with on Christmas Eve at an intimate dinner we’ll share in our cozy little cabin in Breckenridge.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’ve planned the entire thing for him?”
“Yes and no. I might have dropped subtle hints, but I’m leaving it all in his very capable hands.” She winked, heading to the door. Then she paused and turned to face me just before leaving. “Once I have all the access information for the listing, I’ll forward it to you. They don’t send it until twenty-four hours before you’re scheduled to arrive, just in case you change your mind. In the meantime, I’ll finalize the reports you’ll need to present to Brighton and his team next week. Should I order lunch for you today, or will you be going out?”
I drummed my fingers on the desk, mentally walking through my day, realizing I had a lot of work to do. “You can order in. How about—”
“Thai from ThaiSquared. Got it.”
I chuckled at how well she truly knew me. “Perfect. Always on top of things. Thanks, Shelby.”
“My boss pays me handsomely to suffer. No thanks necessary.” She flashed me a smile before leaving my office, and I fired up my desktop to get my day started.
It was after nine by the time I made it home. I entered my apartment, placed my things on the kitchen table, then paused momentarily to fold my overcoat over the back of one of the chairs. Releasing a sigh to exhale away the day, I pulled open my refrigerator and removed a beer, taking it into the living room with me, where I lifted the remote and sank into the sofa.
I loved my life. There wasn’t much to complain about. After graduating at the top of my class with a degree in business, I had the type of career most only dreamed of. By twenty-two, I started my first Global Restructuring Firm. By twenty-four, I had my first million-dollar account. At twenty-eight, I had already far exceeded my goal of being listed as one of the nation’s up-and-coming corporate restructuring firms and financial strategists. I’d already obliterated my ten-year plan but still wasn’t ready to slow down. Mainly because . . .
My phone vibrated with a call, and I groaned, seeing my mother’s name flash across the screen. If I didn’t answer, she would repeatedly call until I did. This was her thing, which had turned into our thing. She called, and I dodged her. She refused to let me rest until I answered at least once.
“Good evening, Mother.” I kept my focus on the television as I mindlessly flipped through channels.
“Well, good evening to you too, my long-lost son.”
I chuckled, lifting my beer and taking a healthy gulp.
“You know the address to both my residence and my office, Mother. I’m far from lost.”
She scoffed. “You know what I mean, It’s the week before Christmas, and we don’t have your flight information. Will you bring a plus-one to the gala, and if so, please send me her bio so I can be prepared.”
I snorted at the thought of dating a woman who had a bio that my mother would approve of. There were plenty. I would bet my life my mother had several bios from women who met her standards of being qualified to date her son—none of whom would meet my qualifications of being interesting enough to entertain for longer than my mother’s gala would last. She and I differed greatly in that area.
“That’s easy. There are no arrival plans, which means no plus-one. I’ll be in Atlanta next week, working .”
“You absolutely will not , Next week is Christmas.”
“I’m well aware, Mother.”
“Then what’s this nonsense about you working? Everyone will be expecting you to be home for the holidays. We have a tight schedule as is, with our family dinner, Christmas Eve decorating, and the gala—which, by the way, has already raised over a million dollars that we’ll be sending out to well deserving charities.”
The Christmas dinner and Christmas Eve decorating performance would be captured by whatever newly hyped videographer my mother had hired to narrate the perfect story of our perfect family. Hard pass on that.
“I’ve already sent my donation from my personal and business accounts, but I won’t be there. Sorry, but this deal is important.”
“Our family is important, What am I supposed to tell everyone when you don’t show?”
I shrugged, not really caring. I was one piece of the perfect holiday puzzle. My mother didn’t give a damn about seeing me. Well, that wasn’t the complete truth. She loved it when I came home because she did love me , but this was more about me playing my part in a holiday creation that she would have flawlessly edited and then placed on her personal and charity websites. It was always about appearances.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, and if you can’t, that’s why you pay your team of minions. They’re very capable of drafting a speech for you to deliver to anyone concerned about my absence.”
“It’s not about that. I look forward to you being home for the holidays, ”
“Seriously, Mother? You could not care less about me coming home beyond how it disrupts your perfectly laid plans. Unfortunately, you’ll have to improvise this year. I won’t be home.”
“I suppose I can spin this one way or another, but I will miss you. Just know I’m terribly disappointed.”
“I’m sure you are. As sure as I’m convinced that you’ll survive. Good night, Mother. I love you. I have an extremely early morning tomorrow.” I smiled into the phone, knowing that she was pouting.
Not exactly a lie. All of my mornings were early, which I would bet my life she knew, and that was why she didn’t argue with me.
“Good night, I love you, and if you just happen to change your mind—”
“I won’t. I love you too, Mother.”
She sighed again just before my phone went silent. I glanced at my phone, feeling a tinge of guilt that I wasn’t going home for the holidays, but then again, it wasn’t like it mattered. My family didn’t function like most.
Instead of cozy nights with ugly sweaters and apple cider or eggnog in front of the fireplace, my parents and I would be dressed in the most expensive threads, posing for staged pictures throughout our home. To others, we appeared to be the perfect blend of love and privilege. But in reality . . .?
My mother was overly obsessive about our image, my father worked more hours than he spent with us, and I had only been conceived to complete their all-American image. It was nauseatingly taxing, and my number one reason for loathing the holidays, and Christmas more than the others because it was always the longest week of my life growing up with all the scheduled events and appearances my mother insisted on every year.
My friends were out playing, enjoying their vacation, while I was spending my time entertaining adults who didn’t understand that I simply wanted to be a kid. Holidays were not fun, and I could do without any of the insanity of it all.